supposed to stick to three or four … apparently the nose gets confused.’
‘Right.’
Annie hadn’t managed to doze for even one moment on the flight, and neither had Lana. It was cramped, chilly and claustrophobic on the plane. How had transatlantic travel managed to become like a marathon bus ride? Where was the glamour? People had once arrived in New York by steam liner with bellboys in pressed uniforms ready to trolley their initialled leather trunks behind them.
Annie pulled the lump of fibre held together by static which passed for a blanket around her shoulders.
Once the champagne buzz had worn off, the first hour of the flight had been hard. Watching the coastline of Ireland slip away beneath them and the great steely grey expanse of water begin, Annie had brooded on the fact that the entire Atlantic Ocean was going to be between her and Ed, Owen and her babies.
An ocean! What had she been thinking? She couldn’t help feeling that there was no way she was going to last four weeks. This would be impossible. But it hadn’t seemed fair to mention such doubts to Lana, who was glowing, tingling, just about out of her mind with excitement about landing at JFK in a few hours’ time.
Whenever Annie’s face looked worried, Lana had made her order another glass of fizz. So now, six hours later, Annie was gulping water and trying to recover from the effects of high altitude early morning drinking.
Plus, the concerned look on the face of their American air hostess was becoming a little bit off-putting. There had been no denying the reprimand in the last: ‘Another glass of sparkling wine for you, ma’am? Ok-aaaaay.’
Lana had shut down the in-flight entertainment and was now looking out of her window with unmistakable delight. When Annie peered over Lana’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the view, she too felt a jolt of excitement. Below was a bright blue sea and a long blond strip of coastline.
‘Wow! Could that be New England?’ Annie asked.
‘Maybe. Doesn’t it look beautiful? There are islands … maybe it’s the Hamptons. Maybe we’re almost there.’
Annie took a glug from her bottle of water and tried to run calming hands over her hair. But it was no use: static from the blanket, from the fuzzy velour seats, from the very atmosphere of the plane was making her hair crazy. She poured a little mineral water into her hands, then smoothed wet fingers over her short blonde bob.
‘Better?’ she asked Lana.
But Lana didn’t even turn; her eyes were glued to the window. She pointed with her finger and her mouth dropped open in awe.
‘That’s it,’ she whispered, ‘the skyline. Ohmigod! We’re here. Look, Mum. LOOK!’
Lana moved her shoulder back so that Annie could see out of the little glass oval. There was a tiny, postcard-perfect view of a jagged square centimetre of Manhattan skyline. Now Annie had to gasp too.
‘Oh look! Look at that!’
‘The buildings are so big . The island is so small . Oh this is amazing.’
The plane wheeled around in the sky and suddenly they were looking at blue ocean, tiny toy ships and—
‘There! It’s the Statue of Liberty! So small!’
‘But it must be so big! Compared to that ship …’
‘We are nuts.’
‘This is soooooo brilliant.’
‘I can’t believe we’ve done it!’
‘I can’t believe we’re really going to New York!’
‘We’re going to New York, we’re going to New York!’
‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘This is the best trip I’ve ever, ever been on,’ Lana announced, grin right across her face.
‘Babes, we’ve not even landed yet. We might still crash … or land up in some flea-pit with cockroaches … or get mugged – murdered, even.’
‘Mum, this is the best ever trip. The best ever idea. Thank you!’
To Annie’s amazement, her sulky, grumpy, slouchy, grouchy teenager was suddenly throwing her arms around her.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘It’s OK. I would never have been brave enough to come on my
‘Right.’
Annie hadn’t managed to doze for even one moment on the flight, and neither had Lana. It was cramped, chilly and claustrophobic on the plane. How had transatlantic travel managed to become like a marathon bus ride? Where was the glamour? People had once arrived in New York by steam liner with bellboys in pressed uniforms ready to trolley their initialled leather trunks behind them.
Annie pulled the lump of fibre held together by static which passed for a blanket around her shoulders.
Once the champagne buzz had worn off, the first hour of the flight had been hard. Watching the coastline of Ireland slip away beneath them and the great steely grey expanse of water begin, Annie had brooded on the fact that the entire Atlantic Ocean was going to be between her and Ed, Owen and her babies.
An ocean! What had she been thinking? She couldn’t help feeling that there was no way she was going to last four weeks. This would be impossible. But it hadn’t seemed fair to mention such doubts to Lana, who was glowing, tingling, just about out of her mind with excitement about landing at JFK in a few hours’ time.
Whenever Annie’s face looked worried, Lana had made her order another glass of fizz. So now, six hours later, Annie was gulping water and trying to recover from the effects of high altitude early morning drinking.
Plus, the concerned look on the face of their American air hostess was becoming a little bit off-putting. There had been no denying the reprimand in the last: ‘Another glass of sparkling wine for you, ma’am? Ok-aaaaay.’
Lana had shut down the in-flight entertainment and was now looking out of her window with unmistakable delight. When Annie peered over Lana’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the view, she too felt a jolt of excitement. Below was a bright blue sea and a long blond strip of coastline.
‘Wow! Could that be New England?’ Annie asked.
‘Maybe. Doesn’t it look beautiful? There are islands … maybe it’s the Hamptons. Maybe we’re almost there.’
Annie took a glug from her bottle of water and tried to run calming hands over her hair. But it was no use: static from the blanket, from the fuzzy velour seats, from the very atmosphere of the plane was making her hair crazy. She poured a little mineral water into her hands, then smoothed wet fingers over her short blonde bob.
‘Better?’ she asked Lana.
But Lana didn’t even turn; her eyes were glued to the window. She pointed with her finger and her mouth dropped open in awe.
‘That’s it,’ she whispered, ‘the skyline. Ohmigod! We’re here. Look, Mum. LOOK!’
Lana moved her shoulder back so that Annie could see out of the little glass oval. There was a tiny, postcard-perfect view of a jagged square centimetre of Manhattan skyline. Now Annie had to gasp too.
‘Oh look! Look at that!’
‘The buildings are so big . The island is so small . Oh this is amazing.’
The plane wheeled around in the sky and suddenly they were looking at blue ocean, tiny toy ships and—
‘There! It’s the Statue of Liberty! So small!’
‘But it must be so big! Compared to that ship …’
‘We are nuts.’
‘This is soooooo brilliant.’
‘I can’t believe we’ve done it!’
‘I can’t believe we’re really going to New York!’
‘We’re going to New York, we’re going to New York!’
‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘This is the best trip I’ve ever, ever been on,’ Lana announced, grin right across her face.
‘Babes, we’ve not even landed yet. We might still crash … or land up in some flea-pit with cockroaches … or get mugged – murdered, even.’
‘Mum, this is the best ever trip. The best ever idea. Thank you!’
To Annie’s amazement, her sulky, grumpy, slouchy, grouchy teenager was suddenly throwing her arms around her.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘It’s OK. I would never have been brave enough to come on my
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