here. It is almost Christmas and Toby is probably all cosy round a tree with Serena, and chestnuts roasting on an open fire, while mum and dad are preparing for their Kilimanjaro Christmas extravaganza. Issy will be late-night Christmas shopping, while Jamie is probably shagging for England with his Filipino lover. And me, well I am attempting to convince people I am neither a hijacker nor a terrorist and that I really don’t have machine guns in my suitcase. To make matters worse my sodding button just popped on my skirt and I can feel the zipper slowly creeping undone. I see my suitcases gliding through a curtain like two little coffins on their way to cremation. That means I am stuck with this skirt for the duration of the journey. Alex hands me my hand luggage and with a tilt of his head indicates that I should follow him to the departure lounge. He gives me my boarding pass, in case we get separated. Honestly, anyone would think I was five years old. I ring mother fearing my plane, or God forbid, hers, may crash and we may never speak again. She instructs me to buy Imodium for my stomach as ‘You never know,’ and asks casually if I have packed condoms.
‘You might get lucky, as long as it isn’t some Cambodian man with a leg missing.’
‘What?’
‘You know all those land mines and everything.’
My mother is a national embarrassment with zero political correctness. I suppress my gasp and wish her a good flight. I am about to hang up when she says,
‘By the way, your father read they don’t have toilet paper out there. Can you imagine?’
‘In Kilimanjaro?’
‘No silly, in Cambodia. You had better get some.’
I blink rapidly. I will never get atoilet roll into my hand luggage.
‘But they must use something,’ I say, not really wanting to know what.
‘Apparently they use their hands darling. Oh, your father’s calling, must dash. Have a super time.’
I shudder and look at Alex. My God, surely he doesn’t? A graphic picture of Alex Bryant wiping his bum enters my head and I quickly shake the thought away. Holding my skirt together I amble into Boots for some safety pins. I take another sneaky look at him. He is extraordinarily good looking. Don’t get me wrong, I could never fancy such an arrogant man but I can see the attraction, and there is something safe about him. If only he wasn’t such an arsehole. Admittedly Toby’s articles haven’t always been as well researched as they could have been but nevertheless they are powerful and well written. My mind wanders to Toby, and I wonder if he is thinking about me. This would have been our first Christmas together and I was so looking forward to it. Instead I’m flying to Cambodia and won’t really have a Christmas at all. After dropping safety pins and a box of Imodium into my basket I find myself hovering around the toilet roll section. ‘ Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ screeches into my ears from a nearby speaker as I stare longingly at the rolls. How can they not have any in Cambodia? I see the security guard looking at me strangely and move onto the tissues and throw several packs into my basket. That should do it. I am about to edge my way into the queue when a scruffy young man blocks my way. I attempt to edge round him. He makes no effort to move and I am about to kindly ask him if he would when he leans forward, his alcohol breath wafting into my face.
‘Listen up fatty, if you’re on my flight and try anything stupid I’ll knock you’re fucking head off, got it?’ he spits.
Before I canspit anything back he is escorted outside the shop by Alex Bryant. I quickly follow. I can hear shouting behind me but am oblivious to it. The only thing reverberating in my head is the word fatty . Did he really call me that? God, I must be really fat if people are starting to call me names. I stare bewildered as Alex leans close to him.
‘You’re going to
‘You might get lucky, as long as it isn’t some Cambodian man with a leg missing.’
‘What?’
‘You know all those land mines and everything.’
My mother is a national embarrassment with zero political correctness. I suppress my gasp and wish her a good flight. I am about to hang up when she says,
‘By the way, your father read they don’t have toilet paper out there. Can you imagine?’
‘In Kilimanjaro?’
‘No silly, in Cambodia. You had better get some.’
I blink rapidly. I will never get atoilet roll into my hand luggage.
‘But they must use something,’ I say, not really wanting to know what.
‘Apparently they use their hands darling. Oh, your father’s calling, must dash. Have a super time.’
I shudder and look at Alex. My God, surely he doesn’t? A graphic picture of Alex Bryant wiping his bum enters my head and I quickly shake the thought away. Holding my skirt together I amble into Boots for some safety pins. I take another sneaky look at him. He is extraordinarily good looking. Don’t get me wrong, I could never fancy such an arrogant man but I can see the attraction, and there is something safe about him. If only he wasn’t such an arsehole. Admittedly Toby’s articles haven’t always been as well researched as they could have been but nevertheless they are powerful and well written. My mind wanders to Toby, and I wonder if he is thinking about me. This would have been our first Christmas together and I was so looking forward to it. Instead I’m flying to Cambodia and won’t really have a Christmas at all. After dropping safety pins and a box of Imodium into my basket I find myself hovering around the toilet roll section. ‘ Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ screeches into my ears from a nearby speaker as I stare longingly at the rolls. How can they not have any in Cambodia? I see the security guard looking at me strangely and move onto the tissues and throw several packs into my basket. That should do it. I am about to edge my way into the queue when a scruffy young man blocks my way. I attempt to edge round him. He makes no effort to move and I am about to kindly ask him if he would when he leans forward, his alcohol breath wafting into my face.
‘Listen up fatty, if you’re on my flight and try anything stupid I’ll knock you’re fucking head off, got it?’ he spits.
Before I canspit anything back he is escorted outside the shop by Alex Bryant. I quickly follow. I can hear shouting behind me but am oblivious to it. The only thing reverberating in my head is the word fatty . Did he really call me that? God, I must be really fat if people are starting to call me names. I stare bewildered as Alex leans close to him.
‘You’re going to
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