Upside Down Inside Out (8 page)

‘Please take your seats, gentlemen. We’re about to commence takeoff.’

‘Gentlemen? Us?’ The pair fell about laughing at the idea as they threw their duty-free bags with a clank into the overhead locker, then settled into the seats beside Joseph.

The blond-haired one leaned across. ‘Gidday, mate. Better introduce ourselves, seeing as we’ll be sitting next to each other on this flight, eh? I’m Doug from Melbourne and this is my mate Shorts. Cos he’s so tall, geddit?’

In the business-class section fifteen rows from Joseph’s seat, Eva stretched luxuriously. What next, a long bath in asses’ milk? A flight attendant feeding her peeled grapes? She felt like the Queen of Sheba. A supermodel and royal princess rolled into one.

Not that she had much to compare it to - a few three-hour flights to Mediterranean holiday resorts with some school friends had been the extent of her long-haul travelling. But she’d heard plenty of horror stories from customers when she told them she was flying to Australia.

‘You’ll need a week to get over the flight,’ one had prophesied. ‘It’s endless,’ another had added. ‘Apparently all you do is eat plastic food and sleep with your head in your neighbour’s armpit.’ ‘It’ll be horrific,’ they’d said as one.

Oh no it wasn’t, Eva thought, smiling serenely as the flight attendant offered her a choice of champagne or wine.

‘Champagne would be just perfect,’ she said graciously.

Joseph now knew he was in Dante’s inferno. His hopes that the flight would be a time of quiet contemplation about his father, the Canadian offer and the seat designs had dissolved hours ago. It was just as well he’d finished writing his conference speech the night before, rather than write it on the plane, too. The two Australians beside him were now into their fifth round of a drinking competition. Their seat trays were overflowing with beer cans and miniature whisky bottles. Shorts was virtually unconscious, his mouth open, his loud snores punctuated by burps.

The two were on their way home after twelve months backpacking around Europe, Shorts had explained to Joseph just before they’d begun their drinking spree. ‘These are our last hours of freedom, Joe, so we’re making the most of it. Doug’s off to medical school, I’m studying to be a vet. We turn back into grownups the moment we get off this plane.’

He’d never really had those carefree days himself, Joseph thought now. Never had a year off to do what he liked, travel around, take it easy. He’d gone

straight from school to university to starting his own company. And the success of his very first design, the ergonomic office chair, had meant he’d been pushed into the world of business straight away, dealing with manufacturers keen to buy his designs, managing projects, hiring staff. At the start it had just been him in a small office. Now he had a PA, a financial consultant and a team of designers working for him.

He felt exhausted again just thinking about them all. Covering his head with the complimentary paper thin blanket, he shut his eyes and tried, once more, to sleep.

‘That’s wonderful, thank you,’ Eva said as the flight attendant helped her convert her comfortable seat into a completely flat bed.

‘You’re welcome, madam. Pleasant dreams.’ Eva settled herself under the blanket. She felt a little bit odd, all tucked up, with the other business class travellers lying around her. It was like being in a boarding-school dormitory. If she started a chant or a singsong, would they all join in? she wondered. She surreptitiously looked around. No, she seemed to be the only one who hadn’t done this a hundred times before. Certainly the only one who was thanking the flight attendant for every little thing.

She couldn’t wait to tell Lainey about it. Mind you, Lainey probably wouldn’t be surprised. She’d no

doubt talked her way into upgrades plenty of times. Lainey was very good at things like that. Taking control. Getting things done. She always had been, even when they were children, growing up in the same street in Dunshaughlin. Lainey had been the one in charge from the beginning, inventing games, making the decisions, never short of ideas. They’d be world famous child popstars, she’d decided at the age often. An Irish version of The Osmonds or the Jacksons. Unfortunately Lainey was tone deaf and couldn’t play an instrument. But Eva loved to sing, and the teacher at school had once publicly praised her singing voice. ‘I’ll be the brains behind it instead,’ Lainey had said confidently. ‘I’ll write the lyrics and be the manager and you write the music and sing.’ Their first joint effort was ‘You Threw Me Away (Like A Tissue)’, performed to an audience of their parents. Lainey had been disgusted at their reaction. ‘You’d think they could have at least pretended to like it, wouldn’t you?’ she’d said to Eva. ‘Your mother was nearly crying laughing.’ Too bad, Lainey had declared then. We’ll be writers instead. The new Jane Austen and Emily Bronte. They got to chapter three of Love is Leaping. Then the Olympics had sparked an interest in gymnastics. Which led to ballet. Which led to fashion design. Which led to painting. They’d both been taken aback to discover that Eva had real artistic talent. Lainey had noticed it first.

‘Yours really does look like the landscape,’ she’d said with surprise after they’d spent the day painting at the Hill of Tara. ‘Mine just looks like the bottom of a pond.’ Eva had shyly agreed. It wasn’t often that she was better than Lainey at something. But her painting did look good, the different shades of green and brown and light blue and muddy white nearly mirroring the panoramic view in front of them. They had to exploit this new-found talent, Lainey decided. Eva could paint a Hill of Tara series. They could sell them to the tourists at weekends and during the summer holidays. ‘We can set up a little stall, dress up in Irish dancing costumes so we look like the real thing, sell the lot and make an absolute fortune. What do you think?’ But then Lainey’s parents had dropped the bombshell. The family was emigrating to Australia. Her father had decided that his building skills would be much better appreciated in Melbourne than they were in Ireland. Despite huge opposition from Mr Byrne’s much older sister, who said he was a traitor for abandoning Ireland, the decision was made. The whole family was going: Mr and Mrs Byrne, fifteen-year-old Lainey and her three little brothers. They were leaving in a month’s time. It hadn’t been the end of their friendship. They’d written letters, made phone calls and then, more recently, sent emails. Lainey had been back to

Ireland twice, once with her family at the age of eighteen, then again on her own when she was twenty-three. Eva thought about that trip again now, the last time she’d seen Lainey. Eight years ago. It had nearly been the end of their friendship …

She stopped her train of thought right there. There was no point dwelling in the past. That was all behind them now. It would be completely different this time. They were both older, for a start. More settled. It would be just great, she decided. Two weeks of fun and laughs. She was really looking forward to seeing how Lainey lived and hearing all about her job with the event management company. Seeing her family again. Asking her advice about Ambrose’s offer. And finding out once and for all exactly what happened between her and Martin eight years ago?

No, no, there was no need to bring any of that up. It was a long time ago. She’d got over it. And she was sure Lainey wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway.

Chicken.

She wasn’t being chicken. She just didn’t want to spoil this holiday, for either of them.

And besides, the issue wouldn’t arise anyway. There’d be no men to come between them this time, would there?

Joseph shifted in his seat again, trying once more to find a comfortable position. Was Australia on the other side of the planet or the other side of the solar system? They’d been flying for more than ten hours already and were still nowhere near Singapore. It would have helped if he’d been able to unscrew his legs and put them in the overhead locker. Or if he’d been three foot tall rather than six foot tall. He felt like a battery hen.

At least he’d finished his research into the comfort level of long-haul economy seats. It had been very simple. There was no comfort level. Perhaps he should have followed Doug and Shorts’ example and drunk himself into alcohol-induced unconsciousness. They were now snoring loudly beside him. He reached up and switched on the overhead light. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d read.

Twenty minutes later he put the book down again. It was no good. He wasn’t concentrating. He’d read the same page five times. There wasn’t room in his head for a story. It was already filled with thoughts about his father.

He leaned down, took out the photograph of Lewis from the bag at his feet and looked at it again. He wondered where it had been taken. Who had taken it. There was countryside in the background, the edge of a building, but it was difficult to make out any details.

He could see a resemblance between them. The

eyes, was it? Or the shape of the face. Something, in any case. What would Lewis’s voice be like? he wondered. He’d been living in Australia for many years now. Would he have an Australian accent?

He should have asked Kate more about him. As a child he’d had plenty of questions about Lewis, about why they’d divorced. Sometimes Kate had answered, sometimes she’d seemed too upset. ‘It was very complicated, Joseph. But it wasn’t your fault, I promise you that.’ It was all she’d say. If it wasn’t his fault, why hadn’t Lewis been in contact with him then? He’d asked that question more than once. ‘It was very complicated,’ Kate would repeat. He’d finally stopped asking.

But now here was his chance to get some answers. He looked at the address on the back of the photograph again. The Clare Valley, South Australia. He made his decision. He was going to go there.

Eva looked at her watch. What a shame, only another two hours to go before they reached Singapore. Then she’d hit the ground with a bump, in more ways than one. How on earth would she cope with economy class from Singapore to Melbourne now she’d had a taste of the high life?

‘Orange juice, madam?’ the flight attendant said beside her.

She smiled up at him. ‘Would a glass of champagne be completely out of the question?’

As they started the descent into Singapore and Doug gave another shuddering snore beside him, Joseph made one more decision. As soon as they arrived in Singapore, he was going to the ticket desk and paying for an upgrade for his flight to Sydney.

And he was never flying economy class again.

Eva spotted Lainey just seconds after she came through the automatic doors into Melbourne airport. Lainey was hard to miss, waving wildly from the back of the crowd.

Several people turned to watch as they hugged each other: the tall, tanned woman, her dark brown hair cut short to frame her face; the shorter, pale skinned, dark-eyed woman with the long black plait.

‘Look at you, you gorgeous thing. I can’t believe you’re actually here.’ Lainey was nearly in tears.

‘Get away out of that,’ Eva laughed at her. ‘Didn’t I always threaten to do it? And look at you. Have you just come from the Businesswoman of the Year Awards, or do you always look like this?’

Lainey had come straight to the airport from her office. She glanced down at her work clothes, a modern tailored suit and very high shoes. ‘These old things? Oh no, this is my jogging outfit. Now,

come on, let’s get you home. I’m sure that flight was murder.’ ‘Not all of it, actually.’ Eva quickly filled Lainey in on her business-class experience. ‘It made the last leg bearable, I just kept reminiscing.’ ‘Well, now, don’t you be getting any high and mighty ideas with me,’ Lainey laughed as she grabbed Eva’s suitcase and went striding out to the carpark. She started climbing up the stairs to the third level. ‘Come on, Evie, the lifts here take years,’ she said over her shoulder as she set a cracking pace, talking all the while. They walked past two rows of cars before Lainey stopped next to a very flash sports car and started fumbling in her bag for keys. ‘Hold on a second, I’ll just open up the boot.’ She noticed Eva’s expression. ‘Go on, you’re impressed, aren’t you?’ ‘Very.’ ‘Then I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ Lainey turned to the car parked beside it, a small red hatchback. ‘This one’s actually mine.’ As they drove out of the carpark onto the freeway, Eva felt like a child on her first car trip. She waited for her first real glimpse of Australia, her nose practically pressed against the window. The sky was huge. The trees outside looked different. The light was brighter. Lainey smiled at her. ‘Well, Miss Newly-arrived-from-Ireland, your first impressions?’

‘That blue stuff, up in the air, what’s that called? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it at home.’ ‘We call it the sky here in Australia. Pretty, isn’t it? You have a grey version of it in Ireland, I believe.’ ‘Oh yes, so we do. Ours produces water, as well.’ ‘Really? How clever.’ It was how Eva had imagined America to look, not Australia. The big blue sky. Wide freeways. Beyond them groups of detached houses, each of a different design, all with their own good-sized garden, not like the rows and rows of identical houses that made up many of Dublin’s housing estates. But not a kangaroo or red sandy desert in sight. It was quite a disappointment. The half-hour drive was a jumble of quick conversations, half-sentences, rushes of questions. Speaking in headlines, Lainey called it. As they got closer to the forest of tall buildings in the city centre, she finally put a stop to it. ‘I can’t drive and concentrate at the same time and I’ll just ask you all the same questions tonight anyway, I know. Will I take you for a quick tour instead? You’re probably so jetlagged you won’t even remember it, but I’m trying to be the ideal hostess.’ ‘That’d be brilliant. But just speak slowly, will you, till I get used to that Australian accent coming out of your mouth. I keep thinking you’ve been taken over by an alien being.’ ‘Oh, sure now, love, is this better? I can speak in

the tongue of the auld country at the drop of a hat, you’ve only to ask now, do you hear?’ Lainey answered in a stage Irish accent.

Eva laughed. She remembered the first time she’d heard Lainey’s new Australian accent, during a phone call years before. ‘I had to do it,’ her friend had explained from Melbourne. ‘You try and survive in an Australian school with an Irish accent. All the teasing. Tirty-tree this and tirty-tree that. It was driving me bananas.’