Come Away With Me: The hilarious feel-good romantic comedy you need to read in 2018. Maddie Please
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than nothing. Although there hadn’t actually been much exercise, if I was honest, other than lugging my cases on and off the bed and repacking them. And not much diet either, other than not having some toast and marmalade yesterday morning because I was too excited. Oh well, we couldn’t all be a size ten like India, could we?
I had looked at the Voyage Premiere website on several occasions, of course, so I knew what to expect. The photographs of our ship, the Reine de France, showed a selection of exceptionally elegant couples with marvellous teeth who were always laughing and happy, whether they were tasting wine, eating exquisitely fine-tuned canapés in front of a perfect sunset or relaxing in the Jacuzzi while drinking cocktails. Was that even allowed? Alcohol in a Jacuzzi? Perhaps the clientele of the Reine de France were so classy and sophisticated that they didn’t get drunk and force each other’s heads underwater as most of the people I knew would have done.
In the private lounge we looked around, wondering which of the other people were going to be on the ship with us. None seemed quite glossy or elegant enough to fit in on board, but then, as India pointed out, in our jeans and T-shirts, neither did we.
‘That man over there,’ she hissed. ‘He looks the sort.’
The man in question was tall, quite good-looking and had a swoop of grey hair that made him look rather distinguished. He was with a two-dimensional woman in black who looked far too bad-tempered for the Reine de France. I couldn’t imagine her frolicking in a Jacuzzi with a Gin Sling.
Then there were a couple of exotic-looking women who were rocking the big eyebrows, white trousers and perma-tan look. They seemed to have cornered the market in gold jewellery and had six unruly children with them who had taken full advantage of the free refreshments and were busy building a tower with their empty cola bottles. Would they be taking six children on a cruise? Wouldn’t they prefer a fortnight on a beach? Or was I being mean?
Anyway, shortly after that one of the women noticed that the flight to Miami was boarding and they began rounding up the children and their numerous backpacks with a great deal of arguing and a couple of well-placed slaps. I guessed they were off to Disneyland and I was glad for them. Twelve days on a cruise ship with a load of old couples on Prozac and intravenous alcohol was no place for a kid in my opinion.
I commandeered their empty table, which overlooked the departure runway. India went to get us some champagne while I logged into my laptop and surreptitiously looked around to see if I could spot any more potential travellers heading for a cruise. An exceptionally nice-looking man was sitting on his own at the table next to us, typing rapidly into a laptop and occasionally staring vacantly into space. He was wearing a black polo shirt and chinos. Could he be coming on the ship with us? Did he have a thin, pretty wife with him who was perhaps having a manicure somewhere in one of the side rooms? Or maybe his girlfriend was running wild in duty free, buying some last-minute handbags and gold-tipped cruise wear?
Unexpectedly he looked up and caught my eye and I gave one of those eyebrow-raised, tight-lipped smiles you do when you have nothing sensible to say but don’t want to appear unfriendly. Instead I think I probably seemed a bit of a prat and he frowned and looked away. Oh well.
Luckily, at that moment India came back with some bubbly and a bowl of pretzels.
‘Well, here’s to it!’ she said and we clinked glasses.
Fabulous. There’s nothing quite like chilled champagne at ten-thirty in the morning.
‘I hope Jerry’s all right,’ she said after a few minutes, the corners of her mouth turning down. ‘We’ve never been apart this long before.’
Any minute now we would be on to the wedding and things had been going so well. For the first time in ages it seemed we’d been getting along – perhaps it was the holiday spirit? Or maybe it was the champagne?
‘Of course he is,’ I said, trying to damp down my exasperation and empathise with how India felt. That’s what Mum said – try and see it from your sister’s perspective. ‘He’ll either be in work, being clever and demolishing someone’s alibi, or he’ll be smashing up concrete bunkers and shooting aliens on his Xbox. It will make him realise how much he depends on you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.’
‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ India said gloomily, ‘and there’s loads of stuff to do for the wedding. D’you know …’
I interrupted her before we could get on to the table settings, Dad’s speech or the flower girls’ shoes.
‘Too late now, we’re here. Buck up, we have pretzels …’ I picked up the bowl in one hand. ‘We have champagne!’ I waved my glass in the air with the other.
Unfortunately, at that moment, one of the rowdy children came back and crashed into the back of my chair before scrabbling about under the table for some random plastic animal she had left there. My champagne flew out in a graceful parabola and dowsed the man sitting at the next table.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped.
Grabbing a handful of paper napkins I began dabbing at him, but of course they aren’t much use for anything except wrapping cutlery, and trying to rub the back of someone’s shirt is definitely invading their personal space with knobs on. He did smell rather gorgeous though, some woody-green sort of aftershave. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t looking for another man in my life – I’d only just got over the last one.
‘It’s fine, perfectly fine,’ he said in a tone of voice that said the exact opposite. He had unusual grey eyes and at that moment they were fixed on me; very cold and unfriendly. Like ice chips. His voice was deep and attractive with a very slight American twang. I felt quite fluttery and flustered for a moment and stood on one leg looking stupid while he shook some of my pretzels off his laptop, which mercifully appeared undamaged.
‘I’m awfully sorry,’ I said. ‘I was just …’
I waved my glass in an explanatory way and he flinched.
‘It’s okay, it’s empty.’
‘I know,’ he said coldly, ‘but don’t do it again, will you? Should I move perhaps?’
‘No, of course not. I will. Sorry.’
I crept back to my seat and ducked my head into my shoulders.
‘You idiot! What did he say?’ India hissed, pulling me down into my chair.
‘Nothing much.’
‘He must have said something.’
‘He said you are so much prettier than your sister and then he asked for my mobile number.’
‘I bet he didn’t. Did he?’ India could be very gullible sometimes.
‘No, India. He told me to go away and stop being a nuisance.’
‘Hmmm. Well, do you want to go and get some more champagne? Seeing as you chucked your last one over him.’
‘I didn’t chuck it over him; it was an accident,’ I whispered urgently, feeling my face flushing with embarrassment.
‘Well, you could have chatted him up. He’s quite nice-looking.’ India twirled her hair round her fingers and looked at him from under her lashes.
I nudged her, stifling a giggle. ‘For heaven’s sake, India, stop it. You’re on your hen holiday and you’re flirting with strangers? Really?’
‘I wasn’t flirting, I was just looking. Watch and learn.’
This was so typical of my sister; she couldn’t pass up any opportunity. She’d even been known to flirt with Tim in work and I was pretty sure she scared him to death. He had to have the day off after the last works Christmas party.
‘Look, let’s swap seats? I’d feel better and I’m sure he would too.’
I went to get some refills and some more pretzels and moved into her chair. I was aware Mr Grumpy was still