Mile High Guy (29 page)

Suddenly my mobile beeps. I check it to see who’s sent me a text. Funnily enough, I’m not that surprised to see Adam’s name.

NOT FEELIN GR8. CN WE MEET 2MORO INSTD?

I simply erase the text. Then I erase Adam’s name altogether from my phone. I won’t be needing it from now on. No. I won’t be needing it any more.

‘Sit down.’ My eyes meet Mike’s. ‘You can tell me everything. That’s if you want to, of course.’

Mike wipes his brow in mild frustration. ‘Jesus,’ he sighs. ‘I didn’t invite you in so I could tell you all about my failed married. God, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. How did I even get talking about it?’

‘It’s my fault. I asked you did anyone ever cheat on you?’

‘So you did,’ Mike looks at me oddly. ‘What a strange thing to ask somebody on a first date.’

‘Is this a date?’ I can’t help smiling.

‘Well, I agree it’s not the most romantic date I’ve ever been on but . . .’

We both laugh.

And then we stop laughing at the same time. As our heads draw closer together, Mike’s arms creep up  around my waist and our lips find one another’s. And for some strange reason, once again, I feel at home. As if I’ve been with Mike all my life.

Of course I didn’t sleep with him! Well, we
did
sleep in the same bed but
nothing
happened last night. And to be honest, Mike didn’t even try anything. In fact he gave me an old pair of pyjamas to wear and we just lay in each other’s arms for hours, talking, kissing and then talking a little more. Incidentally Mike’s a pretty good
kisser.

Anyway, I ended up telling him all about Adam except I left out the part about us having sex in case Mike thought I was easy. Besides, I don’t think it’s right to discuss having sex with someone other than the person you’re planning on
having it with. I mean, Mike told me all about meeting his wife, and their wedding and their eventual split. But he certainly didn’t tell me what they got up to in bed. God no. Could you imagine!

I think we were still talking at around six in the morning because I’ve vague memories of hearing birds singing, but maybe it was just my heart
singing. Oh God, I know I sound naff but when I woke up this morning I was seriously happier than I’ve been in a long time.

We didn’t discuss ‘us’ or the future or anything, and after coffee and heated croissants in bed, Mike drove me home. But I know there’ll be no sinister mind games this time, which is great. I’m sick of
playing games. They’re horrible. And besides, my heart doesn’t want to play any more.

Mike’s a fairly straightforward kind of guy. What you see is what you get. He’s not a TV star or anything but he’s certainly welcome to be the star of my show.
He flies planes instead of sitting in them. And his life doesn’t revolve around drinking champagne and chatting up every air hostess thinking he’s God’s gift to women.
More importantly he’s a genuine, down-to-earth guy. And I wouldn’t trade his toenail for Adam and all his fame and money. Adam will never be happy. I know that now. No one woman will ever be enough for him. He’ll always be searching for the impossible. One day he’ll end up one hell of a lonely guy. I just hope he realises it before it’s too late.

When Mike drops me home, I see the curtains in my mother’s bedroom twitch. Unfortunately that means I can’t indulge in one last lengthy snog with Mike. Oh well, hopefully there’ll be plenty of time for that again. Mike gives me a peck on the
cheek and says he’ll call later. I practically skip from his car to the front door. 

I push open the door and wander into the kitchen. I’m wearing an old tracksuit belonging to Mike. Well, I was
hardly
going to wear my uniform on my day off, was I? I amble into the kitchen and see a huge bunch of flowers on the kitchen table. Instinctively I know they’re from Adam.

Straight into the bin they go.

I don’t feel too guilty. Knowing my mother, she’ll fish them out again later and put them in a vase.

There are also three brown envelopes on the table, addressed to me. Brown and boring. I tentatively open them. One by one. I’ve an uneasy feeling about the contents. And I’m right. Three rejections from three film companies. My heart plummets. I read

the cold standard ‘thanks but no thanks’ messages over and over again and then tear the letters up. They follow the same fate as my flowers. Into the bin. Along with my shattered dreams.

One year later
.

Welcome back folks. Nice to see you. Sorry you haven’t heard from me in over a year but to be honest, life has been completely hectic. Still, that’s
no excuse for ignoring you so please forgive me, sit back, relax and I’ll fill you in. This is my last flight by the way. Yes. You see I’m pregnant now so I can’t fly for a while . . .

Oh God, don’t look at me like that. Yes, I know, I know, I can hardly believe it either. I mean I always thought I’d remain childless forever. And would live
alone, surrounded by a hundred cats, with all my married friends whispering about me in hushed pitying tones. But God obviously had other plans. It was quite a shock actually, a huge shock. But Mike and I got used to the idea very quickly. We’re also
engaged and planning to move in with each other straight away. Oh I know people usually get married first, then move in and eventually get pregnant but we did it arseways, according to Mum. Never mind, she’ll get over it. In fact I kind of think she’s looking forward to being a gran.

So anyway, I’d better fill you in on everything.
Where was I when I left you? Oh, yes I remember now. I’d spent the night with Mike but nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing. In fact not a thing happened between us, in the physical sense at least, for about a month. Because I wanted to be
absolutely sure I was in the right frame of mind for passion and romance. My heart was locked up in a box marked ‘FRAGILE’. And I wasn’t about to let it be manhandled again.

Mike was happy to go along with my wishes until, on one overnight in Paris, I sneaked into his room while the rest of the crew slept, and we made mad, passionate love until the sun rose and it was time to fly back to Dublin again. I knew then, that our relationship would probably last forever. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Still can’t. But it’s not just about lust. No. We connect on a much deeper level. It’s hard to explain but sometimes I can’t really remember my life before Mike came into it.

Once my mother got over the absolute shock of
my pregnancy (as far as she was concerned I was still single at the time!), she started tearing her hair out at the thought of yet another wedding. Ruth got married a couple of months ago of course, but there were tears and tantrums right up until the big
day. Mum still swears it’ll never work out, but Ruth seems very happy for the moment, so we’ll just have to hope for the best.

Not wanting to put my mother through any more unnecessary stress though, myself and Mike have decided to get married in a registry office next year, with a quiet meal afterwards in a small, exclusive restaurant. Just immediate family and friends. No hassle. No unwanted relatives. No bickering about the guest list. I’m relieved to be honest. I don’t fancy
spending my wedding day being introduced to strange relatives. Also, because it’s Mike’s second wedding, he doesn’t particularly want to go through the whole lavish ceremony bit again. You know, having to say ‘I do’ for the second time. In front
of the same friends and family members.

We’re going to wait until after Kiera is born of course. Yes, we’re having a girl. Oh, you know, I
had
to find out. I was the type of child who couldn’t even resist opening my presents before Christmas Day! How could I possibly not know whether I was expecting a boy or girl? I’m delighted about having a girl ’cos I was always a little worried about having a boy in case he wanted
to be out kicking a ball all the time or something. Or pretending to be a soldier and wanting to punch me continuously. You see, I just had one sister so I never really knew any boys. But to be honest, as long as the child is healthy, that’s all that matters.

Mike reckons we’re going to have at least two or three more kids after Kiera. I’m saying nothing. But I have my reservations. It’s all very well for him to want a large brood. But while he’s still jetting around the world, I’m spending most of my days
with my head stuck in the loo. Pregnancy is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s funny, they say you’re supposed to look your sexiest while pregnant. But Jesus, I have to disagree. My face keeps breaking out in spots, and doing anything strenuous
like applying fake tan or shaving my legs, leaves me exhausted. Most days I just want to collapse into bed. I wonder how those pop stars do it. You know the ones who perform in belly tops on stage right up to the week they give birth. God, I wish
they’d let me in on their secret.

So what else is new? Well Debbie’s fine, you’ll
be pleased to know. She’s going out with a gorgeous toy-boy called Josh. Yes, sadly herself and Donald parted company in the end. The whole ‘open relationship’
thing they had going on didn’t quite work out. And I can’t say I was surprised when they finally called it a day. At least
she
called it a day after Josh gave her a final ultimatum.

As for Lydia? I never
did
find out what happened between herself and Adam on that date. But she started seeing a much older multimillionaire shortly
after our flight to Milan. And she’s been hounding me ever since to read her palm. She wants to know whether the new man will ever leave his wife for her.

Amy, would you believe, resigned from the company a while ago, and went to New Zealand
to ‘find herself’. She must still be looking because I haven’t heard from her since. I hope she’s having a nice time anyway. God, sometimes, when the Irish rain turns to sleet and the wind doesn’t stop howling, I think I’d love to go and join her in a nice
sunny climate. But obviously, I won’t be going anywhere too far just at the moment.

Tim got engaged. To his next-door neighbour, would you believe? Apparently he’d been seeing her behind my back for ages. But I’ve absolutely no hard feelings towards him because life’s too short. He’s happy and I’m happy. With separate people.
We’d never have made each other happy anyway so it’s only right that we’ve both moved on. He’s even sent me an invitation to ‘the afters’ of his wedding!

Incidentally, his sister Elaine spilt up from her husband and has moved in with a work colleague. So no surprises there really. Hmm. I wonder did Adam ever pop into her shop in the end?

Speaking of Adam, I’m sure you’re wondering what on earth ever happened to him. Well I never did bump into him again, although I’ve bumped
into many air hostesses who have, so to speak. But I did get my revenge. Sort of.

Remember that script I was writing? ‘How could I forget?’ says you. Well, let me tell you what happened there. OK, I got about another twenty ‘Please-Fuck-Off’ letters and then I kind of lost heart as well as my confidence. The script is now under
my bed somewhere gathering dust. For a while I was so deflated I thought about giving up writing altogether. And then one day something extraordinary
happened. Something that genuinely turned my life around.

You see, I met Sandy Elkinson at the airport. If you remember, she was the babe that Adam was supposed to have gone out with. The Claudia Schiffer look-alike. Well one day, we were both
hanging around the cabin crew rest room waiting for a delayed flight to co
me in. Naturally we got talking.

I felt I had to ask her about Adam. I still had so
many unanswered questions floating about in my head. Had the pair of them
really
been going out together? How had it ended? Was it true that she was once the love of his life?

There was no harm in asking, was there?

Sandy, as it turned out, looked anything but pleased at the sound of Adam Kirrane’s name.
‘Oh, I
never
went out with him,’ she said hotly as she painted her nails a blood-red colour. ‘And I sincerely hope that people don’t think I did. Adam Kirrane
used to ring me all the time but to be honest, I don’t even know how he got hold of my number.’

‘So it’s not true?’ I asked, trying not to pass out from the fumes of her nail polish. ‘But why wouldn’t you go on a date with him?’

‘Why not?’ Sandy threw back her blonde curls and laughed loudly. ‘Good God girl, haven’t you heard about that man’s reputation?’

‘Is he
that
bad?’

‘Worse,’ Sandy laughed even louder. ‘Much worse. Do you know,’ she lowered her voice, ‘that they call Adam Kirrane the mile high guy?’

I was completely flabbergasted. Oh my God.
Had Adam ever like,
done
it . . . I mean really . . . how
could
he? How could anyone? I mean there’s barely room in those toilets for
one
person, never mind . . .