Going Off Piste

Chapter One

"Do you have a laptop, iPad, mobile phone or any other electronic device in your bag, sir?"

"No."

"Could you remove your belt, wristwatch, any loose change or keys and your shoes and place them in the tray, please, sir?"

The uniformed employee, his navy blue trousers only just the right side of indecently tight, held Simon's gaze a second longer than strictly necessary and raised one sculpted eyebrow just perceptibly. Simon's lips twitched a subtle acknowledgement.

"As you asked so nicely, young man," he fired back, his tone flirtatious.

On the other side of the security gate, Frankie's heart sank a little and she sighed inwardly. No way was this going to work. Simon dropped his belt and shoes into the plastic tray and shuffled through the scanner, one hand gripping the waistband of his trousers.

Behind Simon, the next person in the queue had been asked to remove his hooded top, belt and walking boots. In his mid-twenties, he was tall and broad shouldered. As he reached to pull the hoody over his head, his tee shirt followed, briefly revealing a tanned six-pack and a narrow, dark fuzz of hair leading from navel down over taught abdomen and beyond the waistband of his jeans. He reminded Frankie of one of those Abercrombie and Fitch models her daughter had raved about after a school trip to New York when she was 17. She reluctantly dragged her attention back to cramming decanted belongings back into her hand luggage. He was barely older than her daughter and Frankie should definitely know better. Simon, however, apparently saw no reason to deny himself such a pleasure. Paused midway through threading his belt back onto the waistband of his yellow chinos, he stared blatantly. Catching Simon's eye, the boy flashed a wide, even-toothed grin and winked. Frankie yanked her small, wheeled suitcase from the conveyor belt and swung round angrily.

"For Christ's sake, Simon, can't you keep it in your pants long enough to get through the airport? Not every occasion is an opportunity for you to get your leg over! Oh god, why did I ever think we could pull this off? It's going to be a total disaster."

"Darling," soothed Simon, "just stay calm." Carefully removing her bag from a white knuckled grip, he placed a placatory hand in the small of her back to steer her forwards.

"Everything will be okay. I'm travelling with my beautiful wife to visit her beloved sister in the French Alps where our lovely daughter will join us and we will all have a splendid time enjoying the snow and hearty local fare. Look, I've even dug out my wedding ring," he waggled his left hand under her nose. "As for that boy, everyone knows you never see the people you meet in an airport again in your life. Besides, he definitely doesn't bat for the same team as me, more's the pity."

"I saw him wink, Simon. I'm not a fool, just very bloody stressed out."

"Trust me, my gaydar didn't even twitch," said Simon, "and it's never let me down yet. Now then, we've got a whole lovely hour for shopping before we have to go to the gate. What first? Perfume?"

When on earth did Simon get so camp? Surely not before he came out to her when they had still been living as husband and wife? Or had she simply been in denial for the last twenty-odd years?

"Actually," said Frankie, "I'm really not in the mood. I think I'll just go and get a coffee."

Unperturbed, Simon took his boarding card and left Frankie to guard both bags.

As she put away her change after paying for her latte, she realised that two sets of hand luggage, a coffee and pastry into two hands don't go.

"Do you have a lid for my coffee, please?" she asked the girl behind the till, trying to wrap the pastry in a paper napkin so she could carry it under her arm.