Us: A Novel by David Nicholls

Author:David Nicholls [Nicholls, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-10-28T04:00:00+00:00

95. final call for the heathrow flight . . .

Connie was standing now, anxiously looking for me, left and right, no doubt thinking, this is strange, this isn’t like him at all, always there two hours before departure, laptop in a separate tray, liquids and gels in a Ziploc bag. Well, not any more, my love! The new me dialled her number, watched as she groped in her handbag, found the phone, glared at the screen, picked up . . .

‘Douglas, where the hell are you? The gate is closing in five—’

‘I’m not catching the flight.’

‘Where are you, Douglas?’

‘I’m in a taxi. In fact I’ve already left the airport. I’m not going back to England.’

‘Douglas, don’t be ridiculous, they’re calling our names—’

‘Then get on the plane without me. Make sure you tell them I’m not coming, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.’

‘I’m not getting on the plane without you, that’s insane.’

‘Listen to me, Connie, please? I can’t come back until I’ve put things right. I’m going to find Albie first, and apologise face to face, and then I’m going to bring him home.’

‘Douglas, you have no idea where he is!’

‘Then I’ll find him.’

‘How can you find him? He could be anywhere in Europe by now, anywhere in the world . . .’

‘I’ll find a way. I’m a scientist, remember? Method. Results. Conclusion.’

I watched her now as she lowered herself back into the seat. ‘Douglas, if you’re doing this to . . . prove something . . . to me . . . well, it’s very touching, but it’s not really the point.’

‘I love you, Connie.’

She spanned her forehead with her hand. ‘I love you too, Douglas, but you’re tired, you’ve been under a lot of strain, and I don’t think you’re thinking straight . . .’

‘Please don’t try and talk me out of this. I’m going to go on alone.’

A moment passed, and she stood. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’

‘I am.’

‘What will I tell people?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Will you at least call me?’

‘When I’ve found him. Not before.’

‘Can I talk you out of this?’

‘No, you can’t.’

‘All right. All right, if that’s what you want.’

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to carry the suitcase. Get taxis, won’t you?’

‘But what will you wear?’

‘I’ve got my wallet and my toothbrush. I’ll buy myself clothes along the way.’

Her head lolled backwards; in distress, perhaps, at the thought of me buying my own clothes. ‘Okay. If you’re sure. Buy nice things. Look after yourself.’ She put her hand to her eyes. ‘Don’t fall to pieces, will you?’

‘I won’t. Connie, I’m sorry we won’t see Venice together again.’

‘I’m sorry too.’

‘I’ll send postcards, though.’

‘Please do.’

‘Kiss Mr Jones for me. Or shake his paw.’

‘I will.’

‘Don’t let him sleep on the bed.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘Seriously, because if he gets into the habit—’

‘Douglas. I won’t.’

‘I love you, Connie. Did I say that?’

‘You mentioned it in passing.’

‘I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.’

‘Douglas, you have never—’

‘I won’t let you down again.’

She said nothing.

‘You’d better catch your flight now,’ I said.

‘Yes. I’d better.

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