Under My Umbrella

Chapter Three

I feel like Edward Norton in Fight Club. I haven’t got a clue what day it is or where I am or if this is really happening as I trudge off the plane. Shame Brad Pitt wasn’t sitting next to me.

This is good, though. This is one step closer. I’m actually here, through airport security and heading for the baggage reclaim.

All I have to do is jump in a taxi back to Hillbury and find Rob. He’ll see sense immediately when I explain how crazy this situation is. I’ll get the next available flight back to California and everything will be fixed.

I reach the carousel just as the suitcases are coming off and find myself the best possible spot for luggage grabbing.

A man to my left heaves a huge red suitcase off and pulls it along to his waiting family. Then a little girl with Mickey Mouse ears on shouts to her mummy to get their case. People at the other side of the carousel are collecting their luggage and soon, there’s only a few left.

Of course mine is one of the last off. The black and pink flower print suitcase feels light as I lift it. I inspect the label, unsure what I even packed now in my haste to leave.

Mr S Lawton.

What? This has to be some mistake. This is not my suitcase. Gripping the handle, I spin around and look for a member of staff or someone who can help me.

“Excuse me!” I charge after a woman in a bright orange jacket, dragging the imposter suitcase behind me.

Before I reach her, I spot a scrawny man dressed in black heading through the arrivals gate with what appears to be my suitcase.

He even looks like a thief with his hood pulled up and his hunched posture.

“Stop!” I scream, chasing after him. “Stop that man!”

“Isn’t that the pilot?” a voice behind me asks.

“She looks like she needs help,” someone else adds.

Would it be terribly cliché of me to say it all happens in a blur?

I’m through arrivals and almost at the exit when a group rush past me and knock the thief to the ground.

“Did he steal something?” one man asks as I stand motionless, staring at them. “Did he take your purse?”

“I haven’t done anything.” The thief pulls himself up and wipes his hands down his jeans.

“This lady is a hero! She landed a plane engulfed in flames.”

Now, that part I never said.

“So?” The thief turns to look at me, and I notice how blue his eyes are underneath his dark hood. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re Mr S Lawton, I presume?” I point at the luggage label.

He stares at it. “How did you...Where did you get this?”

“It’s yours, then?

“Well, yes but—”

“You stole mine.”

His face lights up with realisation. Dark eyebrows lift and blue eyes widen before his strong jaw trembles and suddenly he’s laughing. Full belly laughter that sends a jolt right through me.

“It’s not funny.” I jab at the suitcase to emphasise my point.

“Well, it is a little.” He runs a hand over the dark stubble on his chin. “You thought I was a thief because of the way I look, I presume?”