As she was about to hit a high note, another email alert beeped on Meagan’s phone above Simi’s head, ‘Interesting…’ murmured Meagan.

Simi stopped and looked up.

‘No, babes, it’s not Oscar but if you have a shower I will tell you what it is,’ said Meagan.

Simi slumped back down.

‘Come, Simi. You don’t want Jem seeing you like this.’

‘Jemima’s in LA,’ Simi exhaled.

‘No, babes. I texted her when I left Todd’s earlier. She’ll be home tomorrow,’ Meagan said, cupping Simi’s face in her hands.

‘For me?’

‘Who else would she cut short her escape-break for?’

‘You?’

‘Apart from me,’ Meagan laughed.

‘Can I have a shower in my pyjamas?’

Meagan tutted then pulled Simi close.

‘Fine. Keep them on – for now. I’m gonna make up the spare bed.’

‘You’re staying?’ said Simi blinking away her tears.

‘It’s a big day tomorrow. We’re gonna wash that man out of your hair… literally. Then we’ll pack you up and get you out of here. I know it hurts now but this is gonna be good for you.’ Meagan smiled.

Simi hugged Meagan as tears fell but they were grateful tears. Meagan was here and soon Jemima would be too. Natural order would be restored and they’d once again be a three.

Chapter 4

Jemima

Jemima glanced along her empty row and grinned. Takeoff was in less than twenty minutes and the two seats beside her were still empty. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, well it was a bit but really she just loved space. She felt pangs of jealousy for Robinson Crusoe. Imagine, a whole island to yourself.

As she contemplated that solitary existence, the plane’s PA system crackled to life. ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Captain Ted Striker!’ the announcement began, followed by a warm chuckle. ‘A little cockpit humour there. No, I’m Captain Brett Lambert and on behalf of my crew, thank you for choosing Wow-Oui Air… not many people do. Anyway, I’m delighted to welcome you aboard this 19.20 flight from Los Angeles to Brussels.’

A panicked murmur spread throughout the cabin.

‘Only joking. We are, of course, heading to London… Ontario. Kidding. London, England.’

Good God, thought Jemima, now wishing she had paid the extortionate last-minute premium to fly with a normal airline.

‘We’re just awaiting one last connecting passenger and we’ll be on our way. Until then, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our cabin crew led today by Ms Susan Burke. If you ask nicely, she’ll give you a massage. Joking. But I can guarantee a happy ending when we land in London at approximately one p.m. GMT. Ice and a slice in mine.’

Jemima grimaced and began arranging her blankets and pillows on the vacant seats beside her. She barely noticed the last straggler making his way down the opposite aisle apologising as he bashed people with his hefty rucksack. Finally, she looked over. What was it with some people and time management? she tutted. And that bag was definitely over the size allowance. ‘Selfish,’ she murmured as the straggler began checking row numbers. Keep moving, keep moving, she silently chanted, as she watched him search for space in the overhead bins, stopping briefly to wipe his curly brown hair out of his eyes.