Part 2 (1/2)

Brendan looks up with a start.

'It's like wearing an airbag,' Zo continues. 'n.o.body can get by me if I'm in a normal row. I mean, these seats have 32-inch leg room but I've got 36D b.o.o.bs. You try getting your tray table down-'

'Yes, yes, madam,' Brendan scrabbles to regain his composure. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'We don't mind where we sit, as long as we're together,' Elise morphs into her girlie-whirlie alter ego, snaking her arm around Elliot's.

Urgh, get a toilet cubicle, I cringe, silently praying I'm not seated next to the Es. I don't think I could take eleven hours of pa.s.sive nuzzling.

Brendan looks up from his clicking. 'We have a band of four with the extra leg room and I can seat one of you in the row directly behind.'

'You don't mind, do you, Lara?' Elise gives me a look, equal parts patronizing and dismissive.

'Oh, can't she sit with us?' Zo wheedles, craning to peer at Brendan's screen.

'It's a very busy flight!' he snaps, shooing her away.

'It's fine,' I mumble, nudging Zo. 'If you recline your seat back you'll practically be in my lap anyway.'

'Are you sure?' Sasha checks.

'Honestly. I'll be watching the movies most of the time.' As I squeeze a smile I get a horrible sinking feeling that it's going to be me that's the odd-one-out.

Ding-ding! Round One to Elise.

Brendan hands us our boarding pa.s.ses.

'Okay, all set and that's two vegetarians: Sasha Williams and Zo Harriott.'

'I didn't realize you'd gone veggie, Zo,' Elliot queries.

'I haven't. I'm not lacto-intolerant, kosher or vegan either, but those people always get their food served first so I thought, for a change ...' Zo shrugs.

'Did you know there are more vegetarians in Brighton than any other place in Europe?' I announce.

'Really?' Sasha coos. We love a fascinating fact.

But Elise has no interest in our smalltalk. 'Shall we meet up again at the gate in an hour?' she cries.

Unbelievable she's trying to get rid of us already!

'What's everyone doing?' Elliot takes the more sociable approach.

'Well, you'll make a beeline for Dixons,' Zo makes the obvious prediction for The Gadget King. 'Sasha will be in W.H. Smith, looking for a book for the flight.'

I know, a model who reads: shocking isn't it?

'And Lara and I will be in Duty Free!' she cheers, then remembers she's got a letter to send before we get airside.

'It's actually a job application,' Zo confides as we two go off in search of a mailbox. 'The closing date is while we're away.'

'I didn't realize you wanted to leave the Dyspraxia Foundation.' I frown.

'I don't, but with this new job there's a chance I could go on to become a celebrity PA!'

It's ironic really, Zo has by far the most worthy job of all of us and yet she's the one who deep down always yearned to be a finger-clicking, hair-swis.h.i.+ng diva. Lately she's modified this wish to fit the current celebrity-ravaging climate, deciding that working alongside a star would mean a good deal of the perks without any of the wild accusations in gossip magazines that she's losing her hair/man/mind etc. Not a bad plan in theory, but I've a feeling the reality would be a nasty wake up call, and then what dreams would she be left with?

'Do you know where you'd be based, if you got the new job?' I ask, hoping there's a chance she could move back to Brighton.

'West London, so at least I'd be more in the swing of things,' she notes. 'Of course it's irrelevant, really ...'

'Why's that?'

'Well, seeing as I'm about to get discovered by Hollywood!' She does a little twirl and I giggle back at her.

Zo stops short of the line at Pa.s.sport Control and turns to face me.

'It could happen, couldn't it?' There's genuine hankering in her voice.

I look into her maxi-lashed eyes and smile. 'Why not?'

Why is it so hot in airports? I can't believe Elise stayed wrapped up the whole time we were in line I guess it's not just her eyes that are made of flint. I juggle my bags and coat and bottle of water as we approach the security check.

'You go first, Zo,' I nod ahead, still in a tangle.

Zo steps forward through the archway, instantly setting off the bleeper.

'b.u.g.g.e.r!'

Retreating, she clunks her charm bracelet and fake Gucci watch into the plastic tray then tries again.

It bleeps again.

'Do you think it's my belt buckle?' She rattles her midriff.

'Worth a try,' I shrug.

She tugs her belt through the loops of her Earl jeans and coils it into the tray.

Still she bleeps.

The security man beckons her over and, starting at her heels, strokes her aura with his bleeper-wand, mentally eliminating possible causes as he goes no steel toecaps, ankle chains, pins holding her knees in place following a serious netball injury, no bellyb.u.t.ton ornamentation and definitely no nipple rings he lingers a while to make absolutely sure and moves on with visible disappointment. As soon as the wand reaches ear level it bleats frantically.

Zo raises her hand to her scalp in confusion, then blanches and looks back to me with an, 'Oh G.o.d!' expression.

I frown back a 'What?'

She's already removed her earrings and unless she's had a ton of rapper-style gold caps since I saw her last I can't imagine what it could be.

She leans forward and whispers to the security man. Behind me the line gets impatient. The security man shakes his head and sends her back through to my side of the arch.