The holiday over, Julie slumped into the cramped, narrow seat with relief. Only five hours to home and only two days until the little buggers went back to school. An extremely dishy air steward passed her a generously filled glass of cheap champagne. No words were exchanged. He'd taken one look at the mob of ginger-haired terrorists climbing all over their bedraggled father and understood her need. She felt her eyes well up in gratitude. Uh oh! She sprang to her feet like Usain Bolt leaving the blocks, ignoring the bewildered steward and the ‘fasten your seat belt’ signs. She needed peace. She needed stillness. She needed to feel her boobs. She leaned her head against the locked door and closed her eyes, breathing deeply to control her emotions. Calm for perhaps the first time in two weeks, she moved in front of the mirror and took another deep breath, this time for courage. Lifting her top, she took in the tan lines and the All Inclusive extra pounds that pushed her cleavage over the top of her bra. Just this morning, she’d promised them, her boobs and her bra, all the extra trips to the gym they needed to make friends again. Now, she unhooked the too tight fastening and sat on the loo with a thump. “Is everything all right in there, madam?” she heard from outside. “Do you need assistance?” She opened her mouth to answer. All that came forth was slightly hysterical laughter. A giggling fit was hardly a call to arms, but it was all that it took. The dishy steward, his mouth agape and his cheeks crimson, backed out in a hurry at the sight of the frazzled mum from 22C sitting on the loo, her hands cupping her bare breasts, tears streaming down her face while hyena-like chuckles fought with gasps of terror to fill the tiny cubicle. The door closed quietly behind him. “The Captain needs you to return to your seat, madam,” a new, female voice instructed her firmly from behind the plastic barrier. The steward had gathered reinforcements. Moments later, it was Sean. “Julie, what the hell? Are you okay?” he whispered harshly, his anger at being abandoned with the boys colouring his concern. Thinking of the boys was enough to stop the laughter. Dashing away her tears, she straightened her clothing and marched out of the toilet. “Call of nature,” she told the scrum of stewards. She ignored the smirks and muttered homilies and, holding her head high, made her way back to 22C. Jamie, Jonathan and Louis started clamouring for her as soon as the first whiff of her familiar scent hit their nostrils. Behind them, Ty was, by some miracle, asleep, finally worn out by his inventive plotting. He looked perfectly angelic, the tousle-haired demon. Beside him, Oliver was reading quietly, Captain Underpants for once proving more enticing than teasing his twin. Sean was standing over them, their exuberant, exhausting brood, his tired, much beloved face looking at her with a mixture of confusion and impatience. He wasn’t the only one to be pissed off, judging by the stares coming from her fellow passengers. She smiled beatifically at them as if the delay was none of her fault, a gift rather than an inconvenience, and saw anger turn to puzzlement and suspicion to shrugs of acceptance. The plane began to trundle down the tarmac the second she fastened her seatbelt. Sean risked the wrath of the crew and leaned across the aisle. “You okay?” he mouthed over the noise of the engines. Even the Spanish bronze left his face as his brain processed her answer. Then his mouth twitched into a dazzling white smile and his blue eyes twinkled at her. “Perhaps, this time, it’ll be a girl?” Image by Anke Sundermeier from Pixabay
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