Lucy in the Sky

to me!’
    ‘I don’t know what to say.’
    ‘Well, sorry would be something.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound like you mean it.’
    ‘James, I have just had the worst twenty-four hours of my life! I thought you’d cheated on me. I thought I was going to lose you, have to move out of our flat, divide up our CDs, everything . I had to go through all that TWICE! All because of your sodding mates and a sodding text. Do you understand?’
    This time he doesn’t answer.
    ‘You’d better find out who sent that text. I want names, James.’
    ‘A poet and you didn’t even know it.’ He laughs.
    ‘I am not joking. Names!’
    ‘No, I’m not going to find out who sent that text, don’t be ridiculous.’ He’s suddenly serious. ‘If they knew how much trouble they’d caused they’d probably be over the moon. By not mentioning it, they’ll never have that satisfaction.’
    I’m not convinced by any stretch of the imagination–I want their heads strung up so I can throw stones at them–but I know what he means. Immature little twats.
    ‘Are we alright, Lucy?’
    ‘No, we’re bloody not.’ But his tone softens me.
    My phone beeps and I realise my battery must be low. Good timing, as I see my bag making its way around to me on the conveyor belt. ‘I’d better go–my battery’s running low and my bag’s here.’
    ‘Baby, please. Give me a call when you’ve charged up your phone. I love you, okay? I would never, ever cheat on you.’
    A thought occurs to me. ‘Why were you laughing?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘When you answered the phone. You were laughing.’
    ‘Oh! I was watching something on telly.’
    ‘What was it?’
    ‘Lucy, stop this! I haven’t done anything wrong.’
    ‘What was it, James?’
    He hesitates, then says, ‘If you can’t trust me—’
    ‘Tell me.’
    My phone battery beeps again.
    ‘I was watching a repeat of Little Britain on UK Gold.’
    ‘I didn’t even know we could get UK Gold on our TV.’
    ‘Well, we can.’
    I say nothing.
    ‘Lucy?’
    ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll speak to you later.’ I hang up on him.
    I grab my bag and haul it off the conveyor belt, then, still feeling unsettled, I pull up the handle and wheel my way out through Customs.
    As soon as I see them my heart swells with joy and forces out all the negativity from the last twenty-four hours. Molly and Sam are standing there at the end of the walkway. I rush towards them, tears brimming in my eyes.
    ‘I can’t believe you’re here!’
    Suddenly I’m being smothered in a three-way hug. It’s so good to see them. Molly’s slimmed down and is this tall, skinny pale thing towering over me with a shock of red hair blasting out from the top of her head. She always hated her ‘mop-head’, as she called it–but I can’t imagine her without it. Sam looks different too. In contrast to Molly, he’s filled out and is now, well, a man .His face is a little rounder and his brown hair is shorter. He looks elated to see me and I check my emotions. Nope, nothing. Thank goodness for small mercies.
    ‘We brought you something.’ Molly beams and pulls a packet out of her bag.
    ‘TimTams!’ They were my favourite snack in high school: chocolate biscuit things–a bit like Penguin bars in England. You dip one end in your tea, bite it off and then dip the other end in, before sucking out the insides as quickly as you can, trying not to spill it all over you. ‘Now we just need a cuppa,’ I laugh.
    Sam takes my suitcase from me and we head outside to the car park. It’s still only about eight in the morning so it’s not quite warm yet, but I’m anticipating a glorious, sunny day. Happiness washes over me.
    ‘How was your flight?’ Sam asks.
    I groan. ‘Not great. I’ll tell you later.’
    ‘I can’t believe your English accent!’ Molly squeals suddenly. ‘You sound like a Pom!’
    ‘I do not.’
    ‘Yes, you do. Doesn’t she, Sam?’
    ‘She does indeed.’ Sam smiles across at me fondly. ‘Here we are,’ he says, hauling my suitcase up into the back tray of an open-topped white truck, lying it flat next to half a dozen baby palm trees.
    ‘Are you working today?’ I ask him.
    ‘Nah, I’m just doing a favour for a mate. I’m going to drop you girls off home and have a quick cuppa with you and then I’ve got to get off and do some gardening.’
    Sam works as a horticulturalist in Sydney’s Royal Botanic Gardens, which is where he proposed to Molly, high on a platformwithin