"Trust me on this one, it's a corker"
Daily Express
Kennedy
Kennedy
PRE-DESTINATION
By
Bernardine Kennedy
As the 767 lumbered down the runway I cursed my sister long and hard. Rachel knew full well that I hated flying but it hadn't stopped her pleading for me to personally transport her designer wedding outfit to Florida. Despite three divorces in quick succession, each and every one because Rachel 'got bored', she was about to tie the knot again, this time on a hotel beach in Key West to an alleged hunk called John whom she had only just met.
I meanwhile, had yet to have the opportunity to take the plunge once.
Although secretly envious of her success with the opposite sex, I also disapproved of the way she discarded them as soon as the next one dropped by. I was also angry with myself for once again allowing my slightly older and much more gregarious sister to once again railroad me into being her dogsbody.
'Please sweetie', she had cried pitifully down the phone, 'I really, really want you there, you can be my attendant, I can't imagine having a wedding without you there, you've been to all the others!' I hadn't actually, but that was by the by with Rachel.
The big catch followed mere seconds after I had caved in.
'Could you just pop down to London en route from jolly old Manchester and pick up the outfit that I really, really from Harvey Nicks? You could bring it with you…. pleeeeeese?'
I may be soft but I'm not silly and at that moment I had twigged that that was the reason I was being invited but still I couldn't being myself to say no to Rachel.
As the plane continued to thunder along, its vast wheels rumbling and vibrating, I screwed up my eyes and gripped the armrests in anticipation of the sickening soar up towards heaven, the roar that I couldn't help thinking was the pre cursor to annihilation in the skies.
'Are you okay there? Phobia about flying?'
'Yep' I muttered nervously without looking, 'it's the going up and going down, I'll be okay once we're on the straight'.
I heaved a sigh of relief as the aircraft levelled off and slowly opened my eyes to sneak a glance at my neighbour only to be confronted by a huge pair of navy blue eyes that were beaming concern straight at me from under a sun bleached floppy fringe.
Then the eyes crinkled and he smiled. I smiled back.
He smiled wider. So did I.
He flashed a set of perfectly capped and whitened teeth. I grinned and kept my own slightly crooked and unbleached set hidden behind my clamped lips.
Sinking back into the squishy chocolate leather seat I could instantly see in my mind a whole ten hours, elbow to elbow with a visual sex god, stretching out in front of me. For once, I felt gratitude towards my wayward sister who, with no conscience whatsoever about bribery, had insisted on paying for an upgrade to the hallowed ground of business class.
Ten hours? Huh! It seemed like a mere ten minutes before we were circling Miami and as the descent began he took my hand and squeezed it gently while I totted up a mental CV from the information I had gleaned en route.
Justin Hamble. Aged 35, financial wheeler dealer in the city, high income, divorced, no kids.
As for me, well I'm ashamed to confess that I just opened my mouth and the lies flowed out. I didn't want to admit to being a humble receptionist in a hairdressing salon in Manchester so I just hinted darkly about 'confidential business in Key West' and changed the subject mysteriously.
When I told him I was driving down through the Keys to Key West, Justin immediately countered that although he had business in Miami purely by coincidence, he had two free days beforehand.
'I could come along for the ride, keep you company, then fly back up to Miami. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other, we could take a slow drive and maybe stop and recharge our batteries en route….'
'Sounds good', I replied nonchalantly.
'Ooooh Yeeessss', I screamed silently.
I savoured the sun, sea and waving palms that stretched out before us as the bright red convertible sucked up the miles down Highway One, but mostly I savoured the gorgeous Justin sitting dangerously close beside me.
How could this be happening to me? What was I doing? I was the original Minnie Mouse, gawky, insecure and frightened of my own shadow, while the lovely, lively Rachel took life by its throat and tried to strangle it enthusiastically. Admittedly a little too enthusiastically sometimes, but at least she didn't hide in the corner and blush.
'Turn off just here, there's a great little place tucked away', Justin's smile was full on as he leaned close and pointed, 'we can have lunch by the sea. You'll just love it here'.
To my delight I soon discovered that Justin's 'great little place' was a luxurious five star resort on it's own key that jutted appealingly out into the Bay of Mexico.
We strolled along the beach holding hands, sipped cocktails with our feet in the calm waters of the Bay and exchanged morsels of seafood from our over piled plates.
Slowly but surely, I was seduced not only by the scents and sounds of the balmy Floridian atmosphere, but also by thoughts of the delectable Justin.
Padding back across the bleached blond sand, I knew without a word being spoken what would happen when we got back. In fact it felt so inevitable that I wasn't even phased when I found out that Justin had already booked us into a suite.
A luxury suite, of course.
The inevitability of it actually added to the anticipation and it seemed perfectly natural when we eventually retired to the voile draped four poster with a sea view and made love into the night to the hum of enormous ceiling fans.
'Far more romantic than air conditioning' Justin murmured as he pulled me gently over to the bed whispering sweet nothings seductively.
Because I hadn't been prepared any sort of romantic encounter I wasn't equipped for unbridled passion so had no choice but to strip off completely and hide my reliable, but distinctly unsexy, underwear well out of sight.
Strangely my natural inhibitions had miraculously sunk without trace the moment we had stepped out of the airport and into the sexy convertible.
Despite the lack of clothes to hide my body faults and failings eveything came together perfectly.
I really thought I'd died and gone to heaven!
We were fast and furious in bed, rampant in the shower and slow and gentle on the balcony, which, fortunately, was on the tenth floor.
The next day, tired but sated, we carried on down the highway to my destination of Key West and booked ourselves onto a touristy sightseeing bus but the only sight I was interested in was right alongside me with his arm laid loosely across my shoulders.
'I have to fly back to Miami tonight, things to do tomorrow I'm afraid', Justin sighed as we stood hand in hand in Mallory Square at sunset watching the orange globe sink gracefully into the sea. 'But I'll call you once we're home, maybe we can meet up in London sometime?'
The crowd clapped as the sun disappeared from sight and I felt an embarrassing prickle of tears starting up behind my eyes. Not at the awesome sunset but at the realisation that Justin was about to disappear also.
He still hadn't given me a contact address and what had started as a miniscule niggle of doubt, suddenly grew arms and legs and started to run.
'Give me your address then and I'll send you a postcard from Key West', I laughed maniacally, trying not to sound desperate.
Justin smiled and leaned forward to plant a kiss on my nose.
'No need, I've seen it all with you and the memory of it will stay in my mind forever. I've had a great time…' he sighed and put his head on one side, 'but now business calls, I'll phone….'
With a casual wave of his now familiar sexy hands he strode off into the crowd and gone. Just like that.
Swamped by the crowds I stretched and peered as I tried to catch another glimpse but it was too late, along with the sunset Justin had disappeared.
Desolately I wandered back to the car and negotiated my way to the trendy hotel that my sister had chosen to be the latest wedding venue where Rachel was waiting for me. She looked as gorgeous as ever, all long tanned limbs, tousled blonde hair and bursting with indignation.
'Where the hell have you been? I'm getting married tomorrow and you go and disappear with my outfit. Let me see it, I want to check it's okay'.
Her hand reached out and she snatched my suitcase handle from me with the ferocity of a street mugger.
'Nice to see you too Rachel, and yes thank you I'm fine……' I snapped sarcastically and then relented, after all I was very late. 'I'm sorry, something came up but your dress is okay, it's at the bottom of the case wrapped in tissue paper, it's fine, I promise……'
'That's okay then', her mercurial smile flashed back as she grabbed my arm and dragged me off through the buzzing reception area of the hotel, 'we're all in the bar having a pre-wedding celebration. Minnie I'm so excited, this really is IT for me. The big one'.
'Darling', she waved frantically across the room, 'better late than never, come and meet my baby sister, she's here at last'.
A man stood up and smiled. Tall and handsome with navy blue eyes!
Rachel smiled. 'Minnie, this is John, my husband to be, isn't he just the most gorgeous man in the whole wide world?'
Suddenly I felt faint.
Looking Justin in the eye I held out my hand and smiled grimly. 'So you're John the wonderboy. You don't look like a John', I put my forefinger up to my lips. 'No, no, you look more like a………' I hesitated, 'I've got it, you look much more like a Justin!'
He looked at his feet and reluctantly took my proffered hand.
'Mmmm', he mumbled.
Rachel looked from one to the other grinning widely.
'Minnie, you're a scream, he doesn't look like a Justin at all! Now, come and sit with me and I'll tell you all about it. You'll never guess where we first met, it was on a flight to Miami last month, we both knew right away, it must have been fate'.
'More like pre-destination I think Rachel', I sighed, 'I've a strange feeling you two deserve each other'.
One of the sidelines of being a novelist is writing the occasional short story and being asked to contribute to
various publications.
I’ve had short stories published in a variety of magazine including the Sunday Express Magazine and Candis , as well as several women’s magazines.
I’ve contributed to the charity short story compilations: Sexy Shorts for Christmas a nd Sexy Shorts for the Beach (both published by Accent Press) and given quotes for several publications including: ‘ Wanna be a Writer?’ by Jane Wenham-Jones (Accent Press) and ‘The Novel and Short Story Writers Market 2008’ (Writers Digest Books)
Oh and not forgetting several pieces for the Sunday Times’ ‘Confessions of a Tourist’ which I love writing!
Just for fun, here’s a short story that was in Candis and a ‘Confessions’ that was in the Sunday Times.
By
Bernardine Kennedy
A few years ago my friend Jilly was suffering from all of the above at once and, while trying to help her through it, the best I could come up with was A HOLIDAY.
Jilly didn't want to go anywhere other than under the duvet with a weepy novel but, as I fancied myself as a bit of an amateur psychologist, I managed to talk her into it.
'It's just what you need'…. 'You'll feel better after a touch of sun'…… 'Get your arse in gear and let's go, I've already booked it'…….. 'Pleeeease? you'll be doing me a favour'……..
Grudgingly she capitulated and we set off for an all-inclusive week at a rowdy resort in Barbados.
I was over enthusiastic, she was under enthusiastic so we sort of met in the middle.
The first few days were dire, Jilly became a professional depressive and I was slowly losing patience with the 'I'm too old/fat/rejected to ever be happy again' attitude to everything. She didn't want to do anything other than talk about her ex-husband, her ex-job and her ex-life.
Occasionally, steeped in guilt, I sneaked off alone and left her to get on with it.
There were things I wanted to do, people I wanted to see, fun I wanted to have.
'I've got a date tonight', I announced on our last night after hurling myself into the room where she wallowed on her bed, a picture of self pity and sunburn after too long on the balcony alone.
'He's French and he's gorgeous. Not too bright, but who needs brains on holiday? He's got a friend, we could double date…….'
'Forget it. How can I go on a date….' I knew it was at this point that I was supposed to again reassure Jilly that she certainly wasn't too old, too fat, too boring….. but I didn't, instead I shrugged, and started to get ready making a big show of slapping on the make-up and my best 'going out' outfit.
Psychology!
In the mirror, I surreptitiously watched Jilly watching me.
'Oh alright then, I don't suppose it'll hurt just this once……..' she eventually sighed.
I smiled and reassured her that she wouldn't regret it.
By the time we got to the designated Tiki Hut on the edge of the beach it was a throbbing mass of twenty somethings wearing the minimum of clothing and downing strange coloured drinks slushy drinks with straws and umbrellas.
Feeling out of place but not wanting show it I whispered our order across the bar.
'TWO LAAARGE GIN AND TONICS COMING UP FOR THE LOVELY LADIES ON MY RIGHT….' The barman repeated at full volume then laughed loudly and juggled theatrically with the bottle. We both cringed feeling over-dressed and over-aged.
Jilly wanted to do a runner but I held on to her arm and pleaded. I desperately wanted her to meet her blind date……..
Then they walked in. Antoine and Jean-Paul. Both tall, tanned and blonde, and both wearing loud shirts, combat shorts and reef walkers that screamed YOUTH.
They looked younger and trendier than I remembered, but then I'd only seen them on the beach. Through rose tinted sun-glasses and confidence-inducing alcohol.
I fixed on a smile and waved them over.
Surprisingly under the circumstances, it turned into a great night. We drank, we danced and we flirted outrageously. Antoine and I held hands and Jilly and Jean-Paul got rather close on the postage stamp dance floor. I watched carefully as his mouth crept dangerously close to hers and his hands hovered in the vicinity of her buttocks
When she disappeared off to the ladies I leaned over to him.
'No funny business, mister, just a bloody good night out. Got it?'
He smiled. 'But of course'.
It was creeping towards dawn when we bade farewell to them and they trudged off along the beach.
After we got home Jilly told everyone, relating gleefully how a forty-five year old mother of two teenagers could still pull a hunky beach bum. She said he'd boosted her ego, (definitely), saved her life, (bit of exaggeration there), made her feel young again (me too). On and on she went ad infinitum….
Now, five years on, Jilly is happily re-married and living on the other side of the world and our holiday in Barbados is just another soft focus memory.
She never did find out that most of my holiday cash went on hiring two hard-up reps from a nearby resort to flatter a couple of middle aged women for the night.
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