Flora couldn’t sleep with excitement. She was going to see Joel! She was going to see him! And New York too, which she’d never been to before. She knew which hotel he was staying in, and had vague plans of simply going to meet him in the lobby – he would be so surprised! She packed her best new bra set, ordered specially from the mainland, and the best of her old London wardrobe. Her Mure wardrobe mostly consisted of fleeces, big jumpers and a variety of hats, and she wasn’t sure it was quite the thing for New York.
Fintan came round in the morning to take her to the airport, smiling all the time and giving her a long list of things he wanted her to bring back from Dean & DeLuca, now he considered himself quite the international globetrotter from being at Colton’s side.
‘And if you see Colton, give him a big smooch from me,’ he added.
‘I bloody will not,’ said Flora. ‘He’s the one keeping my boyfriend from me.’
Fintan beamed cheerfully. Flora had no idea how her brother’s relationship seemed so uncomplicatedly happy. She wouldn’t admit to being jealous. But she was.
They bumped into Lorna at the airport, who was waiting for her brother, back from the rigs.
‘I’m doing it!’ Flora shouted.
Lorna grinned. ‘Woah, I wish I was too.’
‘Come!’
‘What, and watch you guys make out all over Manhattan? No, thanks!’ Lorna smiled. ‘It’s great you’re going to see him on his own turf.’
Flora winced at that. ’Don’t forget I saw him on his own turf in London for years. He never noticed me once. Don’t all the girls look like fashion models in New York?’
‘How would I know?’ said Lorna. ‘I’m doing Ancient Egyptians with the primary threes …’
They called the flight; the half-dozen passengers stood up and shuffled forwards. It wouldn’t take long to board.
Flora remembered something. ‘Hey, what was with you and Saif the other day?’
Lorna looked up, immediately guilty. ‘What do you mean?’
Flora had been merely trying to distract herself from panicking about New York by focusing on something else, but Lorna’s furious blush and quick answer piqued her curiosity immediately. ‘Ooh …’ she said.
‘Flight’s leaving,’ said Lorna. She could see her brother Ian, who’d come on the inbound, crossing the tarmac.
‘Something’s up! Something’s up! I can tell!’
‘No, it isn’t. Shut up.’
‘This is why you want to get me out of the way. Are you planning a night of seduction?’
‘No!’ said Lorna, going a very dull shade of red.
Flora blinked, concerned. ‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘What’s the matter? Did you …? Something happened, didn’t it? Did you come on to him or something?’
‘No!’
‘Well, what then?’
‘I can’t … I can’t say. I can’t tell you.’
Flora looked at her for a few seconds more. There was a last call for the flight.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘It’s something. Is it about … is he leaving? No, he can’t, can he? Oh my God. Have they … have they found his family?’
‘I can’t talk about it!’
‘Shit! Oh my God! Really?! Oh my God! Mrs Hassan! I bet she’s, like, super-beautiful. Not as beautiful as you though, of course.’ She put her hand on Lorna’s arm. ‘God. I’m sorry. I really am.’
Lorna was choked up. ‘It’s not that. It’s not her they’ve found.’
Flora blinked. ‘Not the boys?’
‘Flora MacKenzie!’ Sheila MacDuff, who ran the airport, knew her family well. ‘Did you no’ hear the bing-bongs? Get on that aeroplane before I tell your da’!’
Lorna’s face betrayed her.
‘Oh my God. Oh my goodness.’ Flora was frozen to the spot.
‘You can’t tell anyone,’ said Lorna. ‘Please. I promised I wouldn’t. Not until he’s got everything sorted out.’
‘Well, I shan’t,’ said Flora. ‘Because I am off to New York!’
Lorna smiled weakly.
A thought struck Flora as she hoisted her bag and Sheila hustled her away. ‘They’ll go to your school.’
‘They will,’ said Lorna.
‘They won’t speak any English.’
‘I’m sure Saif will teach them pretty quickly.’
‘Oh, Lorna,’ said Flora. ‘It’s great. It’s wonderful news.’
‘It is,’ said Lorna. ‘It is. It’s wonderful.’
And neither of them said what was both true and unutterably awful: that as wonderful as the news was, it was yet another reason added to the great big pile of reasons that already existed as to why Lorna would never – could never – be close to the man she was absolutely, indubitably in love with.
Flora ran back across the concourse to give her friend a huge hug, even as the propellers had started turning.
‘You can’t,’ said Lorna. ‘You can’t tell a soul.’
But her voice was lost in the noise of the plane.
Chapter Sixteen
The little hopper plane to Iceland went twice a week, stopping in the Shetlands, the Faroes and on up to Reykjavik. It was more of a bus than an aeroplane, but Flora was too excited – particularly at going north, instead of south – to mind the stopping and starting. She couldn’t even read her book. She was going to see Joel! She’d sent him a brief text last night to say goodnight but she hadn’t called him in case she betrayed her excitement. She just wanted to be with him. That was all, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
The Norwegian flight was nearly full and she settled excitedly into her seat. She’d never travelled like this before, casually hopping on a plane. It felt very grown up. And New York! She wondered if Joel would mind doing some sightseeing. Or whether he’d just want to stay in the hotel room all the time. Either, she thought, would suit her perfectly well. No! She would grab him as he came in from work and he would be amazed and he could take her out, to some fancy glitzy bar like she’d seen in the movies, and they would catch up properly and it would be amazing. Yes. She was happy now she had a plan.
She dozed off slightly just as they were coming in to land, and missed the swirling heights of the skyscrapers; then, slightly confused and more nervous than ever, she bumped through customs and found a taxi to take her into the city.
It was late at home on Mure, but at six o’clock in the evening, the sun was still shining brightly down on the gleaming skyscrapers. The sight of Manhattan after the great expanses of emptiness of her home island felt very strange; it gave her an oddly dissonant feeling, on top of the jet lag. This wasn’t just another town; this was another world. Even years of working in London hadn’t prepared her for its hyperreal appearance nor, as she got down from the cab, the full sensory overload of the hot dog stands on the corners of the blocks, the steam from the subway, the vast number of people, the honking of the yellow cabs or the height of the great towers.
She stood, for just a second, on the pavement – on the sidewalk, she thought – and took it in. Here she was. In New York. In America. Joel’s America.