Excess Baggage Read Free Page B

humans was one that had passed her by till now. This was, Lucy recalled with a quiet smile, the woman who’d once confessed that the best day in her life was the one when Sainsbury’s started doing home deliveries and she no longer had to queue at a check-out with ordinary mortals. She was wearing a knee-length black linen skirt, white shirt and a long cream knitted jacket (Joseph, she was sure), a choice that Lucy suspected had been made with the fervent hope that she might be (surely
would
be?) selected for an upgrade to club class. It certainly wouldn’t stand up to nine cramped hours with three small children.
    ‘This is the right place, Theresa. We just have to join the riff-raff, you see. It’ll be an experience for you.’
    ‘One I could well do without.’ Theresa stood awkardly, her hands resting warily on her trolley rail, the set of matching leather bags gleaming expensively among the cartloads of sports bags and chainstore suitcases. ‘And so many people are
eating
. Why?’ She moved backwards a little, avoiding the sticky hands of a small boy with a bag of lurid-orange crisps.
    ‘They’re hungry?’ Colette suggested pertly.
    ‘Surely they could wait for some proper food in a proper place. I’d never let mine scoff on the hoof like this. Even Becky and Luke are chewing disgusting doughnuts, full of additives and sugar and God knows what rubbish.’
    Colette tugged at Lucy’s sleeve, pulling her a couple of steps back. ‘Is she going to be all snobby like this all the time?’ she whispered.
    Lucy grinned at her. ‘Yes she is. By the end of the flight she’ll have mentioned at least six times that we should all have gone to Tuscany and complained that the airline food isn’t organic. We’re going to have a wonderful time.’
* * *
    ‘A cocktail party! That’s the last thing I feel like!’ Theresa sat on the edge of the bed, prodding the mattress to check it wasn’t too soft. She rather liked the room, which was large and light and furnished with bleached wood and blond cane fittings. The bathroom had no suspicious stains, leaks or creeping wildlife either, which was more than could be said for the last holiday they’d taken, where all the creepy-crawlies in the Dordogne seemed to have homed in on their particular
gîte
.
    ‘It’s just the management handing out a welcoming drink.’ Mark propped the invitation up by the television set and opened a couple of cupboards, looking for the minibar. ‘You’ve got time for a bath.’
    ‘So I should hope. Though I don’t know what I’ll wear, everything will be creased.’
    ‘I expect you could have a drink, Becky, but make it just the one, OK, otherwise your dad will blame me.’ Lucy watched as Becky selected the largest glass of rum punch from the waiter’s tray. With any luck she wouldn’t actually like it and wouldn’t sneak several more when she thought Simon wasn’t looking. In fact Simon
shouldn’t
look. If he could try to avoid catching her out for the whole two weeks, they would all have more fun and less hassle.
    It was sunset, still steamingly hot and the terrace was crowded with slightly subdued holidaymakers, many of whom Lucy recognized from hanging around the airport’s baggage carousel. The new arrivals were easily identifiable by a pallor that made them look ill and by their air of exhaustion. An exception was a woman she’d seen alone with a young son, buying hectically covered paperbacks in the bookshop at Gatwick , who was now dressed in full-scale cocktail rig of chiffon-layered yellow dress and enough gold bracelets to melt down into a doorstop-sized ingot. Talking to the hotel entertainments manager was an arm-in-arm young couple who might well be on their honeymoon. Lucy could see the back of them. The man was fondling the girl’s bottom, shoving at it gently like a tentative cook kneading dough. The girl’s hand was pushed just inside the top of his trousers, as if she couldn’t bear to have fabric between