‘You should never swap seats on a plane,’ Sarah piped up again.
‘Why not?’ Ava asked, leaning forwards to look at Sarah.
‘Well, in case the plane crashes and they have to identify the bodies.’
Laura blanched.
‘Not helpful, Sarah,’ Claire said.
‘What? It’s true.’
A large man put an end to their conversation as he lifted his suitcase to put it in the locker above Sarah’s seat. Claire nudged Laura and nodded in his direction. They observed him as he shrugged off his jacket. Laura could see huge wet patches under his armpits as he raised his arms again to cram his jacket on top of his case.
‘Um, I’m in the middle,’ he said, turning round to Sarah, who got up and squeezed past him into the aisle to let him get to his seat. As the man wedged himself into the seat next to her, Sarah turned towards the others, wrinkling her nose and waving her waving her hand in front of it.
As Sarah sat down again, Ava said to Laura, ‘I bet she wishes she could swap seats now.’
That made Laura laugh in spite of the kittens tumbling around in her tummy.
Shortly after everyone had boarded, Laura heard the thrumming of the aeroplane’s engine and felt it vibrate through her. She was suddenly cold and regretted putting her cardigan in the overhead locker. She rubbed the goose pimples along her arms. With her eyes glued to the flight attendant, she hung on his every word during the safety demonstration, wondering why no one else was paying attention.
They were several rows away from the nearest emergency exit, which did nothing to reassure Laura. By the time the flight attendant got to the words brace! brace!, Laura had freaked out. Her mind conjured up images of masked hijackers, crashing aeroplanes, inflatable yellow slides, and black boxes sinking to the bottom of the Irish Sea. As the plane accelerated along the runway, Laura gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Claire placed her hand on Laura’s arm.
Once they were airborne, it got worse. The plane turned abruptly, tipping to such an angle that Laura could see the ground out of Ava’s window. She closed her eyes, convinced they were going to flip upside down. The plane continued its ascent, but the higher it climbed, the bumpier it got. Laura wanted to ask Claire what was happening, but the words got stuck in her throat.
But Claire seemed to sense her unease. ‘It’s OK, Laura. It’s just a wee bit of turbulence,’ she said.
Laura wasn’t convinced, but the plane gradually righted itself and once it was cruising horizontally and had stopped bouncing up and down, she began to relax.
Until there was a strange ding. ‘What was that?’ It came out as a whisper and Laura was surprised she’d been heard over the noise of the plane.
‘It’s to let you know you can take your seatbelt off,’ Ava said, pointing at the sign above their heads.
‘Why would I want to do that? I’ll never get it back on again.’
Ava laughed. ‘You can go for a wander.’
‘Wander where?’
‘Well, the toilet, for example.’ In a more serious tone, Ava added, ‘You know what your problem is?’
An unbidden image of her mother’s face flashed before Laura’s eyes. That was a question Noreen asked Laura often, and there were various possible answers to it. You’ve no self-confidence / dress sense / common sense or you’re always gurning / talking / thinking about yourself.
Declan had recently asked Laura the same thing. ‘Do you know what your problem is?’ She’d shaken her head and waited for him to enlighten her. ‘Your mother,’ he’d said.
‘You need to get out more,’ Ava finished, folding her cardigan to use as a makeshift pillow.
Laura forced herself to chuckle. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m not very good with people, though.’
‘What on earth makes you think that?’ asked Claire, who had been listening in on the conversation. Laura shrugged. ‘That’s so not true,’ Claire said. ‘You’re brilliant with those kids when you do Rhythm and Rhyme at the library. You were really patient with that old man the other day, even though he was very rude, and a lot of our regular readers specifically want you to recommend books for them.’
Laura didn’t know what to say to that and the three of them were silent for a while. She glanced at Sarah, who was asleep. After a few minutes, Laura could hear Ava snoring. She suddenly felt tired herself. She’d got up early this morning and now her anxiety was dispersing, it was taking her energy with it. As the plane began its descent, Laura nodded off, only to wake up a few minutes later with a jump as it landed.
As soon as the four of them stepped off the plane, the heat hit them. They walked towards the terminal building, wheeling their suitcases. The pilot had told them there was a slight breeze in Lyon, and Laura had assumed this would feel refreshing, but she felt as if she were surrounded by people, all aiming hairdryers on full blast at her.
‘Oh my God. My clothes are sticking to me already,’ said Sarah, flapping her T-shirt away from her with her free hand.
Once inside, they followed the signs for the Douanes – passport control – and soon stepped outside into the intense heat again.
‘Shall we get a taxi?’ Sarah suggested. They’d been planning to take the tram into Lyon. ‘It won’t cost much if we split it four ways and there’ll be air conditioning in the car.’
‘Good idea,’ Claire said.
Laura heaved a sigh of relief. The journey had been a total nightmare so far. There had been no end of obstacles along the way – Claire had almost missed the bus; they’d all nearly missed the plane. The bus ride and the flight had both been horribly stressful. But here they were. They’d arrived safely in Lyon, all four of them.
As she got into the cab, she felt anticipation and excitement flow through her body, even though it was sweating profusely. The worst bit was over. Or at least, Laura hoped it was.
Chapter 8
THE DAY BEFORE THEY DIED
Laura
Laura lay wide awake, her earplugs not quite blocking out the snores coming from the other twin bed. She’d always been a light sleeper and she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t spent the night in her own bed. She’d not slept well and she didn’t feel particularly energized. She did, however, feel hungry.
A tempting smell of coffee was drifting its way towards her from the kitchen of the aparthotel. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Laura threw off the sheet and tiptoed out of the room so as not to wake Ava.
Claire and Sarah were both up already. Claire was sitting on a bar stool, dressed in denim shorts and a grey tank top. Sarah, who was still in her nightie, was fiddling with a coffee machine.
‘Morning. Come and have some brekkie,’ Claire said. ‘I’ve been to the bakery and bought some croissants and pains au chocolat. And some of these bright pink praline brioches. Some sort of local speciality, apparently. Hopefully they taste better than they look. The lady in the bakery spoke a bit of English, luckily, although she didn’t seem to understand a word I was saying.’
‘Oh? Did you try out your GCSE French on her?’
‘No.’ Claire chuckled. ‘I just repeated everything more loudly in English. I think it was the Norn Iron accent that threw her.’