She shut the laptop down and rebooted it, hoping she’d be able to retrace her steps and find out what she’d booked, and where, and for when. As her system came back to life an email pinged.
Of course! She’d have a confirmation email of some kind. ‘OK, Lily,’ she said to herself, ‘let’s see what we’ve got ourselves into.’
Her inbox contained the usual offers of 10 per cent discount, strangely worded spam and confirmation that a pair of tights she’d ordered two weeks ago had left the warehouse. (Constant updates meant she knew more about the whereabouts of her hosiery than her son most days). And then another email. From eBay.
She’d known she’d looked at holiday properties on the auction site, but had no idea that she’d booked a place through there. It had just been one of a number of pages she’d had open at the time.
The title of the email was half obscured ‘Congratulations!’ it enthused. ‘You placed the winning bid for…’
She clicked on the email, eager to find what she’d let herself in for, and crucially, for how much.
As she read the text, she let out a little involuntary yelp.
‘Everything all right, love?’ Ben called from upstairs.
‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Fine. Just… burned my finger. I’m fine.’ She closed her eyes for a minute, just trying to breathe. And work out what on earth she should do.
She had no idea.
She walked to the counter and poured hot water into their two mugs, feeling herself break out in a sweat. Was this even binding? Could doing something like this really be as simple as a click? She desperately tried to calculate how much money they had in their savings, on their credit card, with her redundancy money factored in. Would that even cover it?
She shut the laptop as if shutting it away might actually delete the terrible mess she’d managed to get herself into, picked up the finished teas and made her way upstairs.
There was no way she could let on to Ben. Not until she knew what she was going to do.
When she reached the bedroom, Ben was sitting, half propped against the headboard. He’d thoughtfully arranged her pillows in an upright position so she could comfortably sip her tea in bed, proving that although he wasn’t the most adventurous husband, he did actually care. As she approached, she saw his face furrow with concern. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he said. ‘You look really pale.’
‘Pale?’ she said, trying to sound normal. ‘I’m fine!’ She grinned widely to prove it.
‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Your smile looks… weird. You don’t think you’re going to be sick or anything?’
‘No, it’s nothing,’ she lied, passing him his mug and sitting back on the bed. ‘No need to call the cavalry. I’m sure I’ll survive.’
He looked at her doubtfully. ‘OK, as long as you’re sure.’
She sipped her tea. ‘Yeah. It’s just this hangover. Can’t remember the last time I had one.’
‘Think yourself lucky!’
‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘That’s what gives you a hangover. Bad luck.’
‘Ha. OK, well, I like to think so,’ he said. ‘Bad luck and Baz.’
‘Never your own fault?’
‘Never my own fault.’ He grinned and reached for her spare hand. ‘Look, I was thinking,’ he said. ‘About, you know, what you said about France.’
She felt something inside her lift. ‘You were?’
She looked at his face, and instead of the reluctance and fear she’d seen last night, she saw an openness. As if he, too, was beginning to feel excited about her suggestion. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his tousled hair and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, he looked better than he had for a while – alive with an idea.
‘Yes, and look. I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have taken things a bit more seriously. I know how much you love France, and I suppose I do owe you, after sort of… I don’t know, promising things…’ He smiled and reached forward for her hand.
Her headache subsided as excitement began to build in her chest. Could it be that she and Ben were on the same wavelength after all? Maybe, despite what she’d done, it could all work out!
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Yes, and look,’ he said, placing his tea on the bedside table and taking her hand in both of his. His eyes were excited in a way she hadn’t seen for years. ‘I have a suggestion.’
‘Yes?’ she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.