Free The Love Detective by Alexandra Potter Page B

just waiting for someone,’ I hear myself bleating.
    ‘There is no time to wait!’ she almost yells at me. ‘You need to check in your bags and go to the gate immediately!’
    I stare at her, frozen. For probably the first time in my sensible, practical, organised life, I have no idea what to do. I can’t miss the plane, but I can’t leave without Amy. And now my flashing code red has started sounding that loud foghorn alarm noise inside my head, like in a scene from one of those blockbusting Matt Damon action movies when the nuclear bomb is about to be detonated and all these men in suits are running around in front of computer monitors yelling and screaming . . .
    Actually, that’s not a bad idea . . .
    I’m stopped by my phone, which suddenly springs to life and starts ringing.
    Amy .
    I snatch it desperately to my ear.
    ‘Rubes, it’s me.’
    As I hear her voice, relief washes over me. ‘Oh thank God you’re OK! I’ve been worried sick,’ I gasp, before turning back to the check-in attendant. ‘Sorry, excuse me, just a sec.’ I step quickly to one side out of earshot, then, ‘ Where the fuck are you? ’ I screech into my handset, any thoughts of big sisterly love flying out of the window. ‘You’re going to miss the plane!’
    ‘I know,’ she replies matter-of-factly.
    ‘What do you mean, you know ?’ I fire back. ‘I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour, you promised you wouldn’t be late—’
    ‘I’m not late—’
    ‘Amy, I’m not going to argue with you,’ I snap. ‘Where are you?’
    ‘I’m with Shine.’
    ‘Shine?’ I exclaim. ‘What are you doing with Shine?’ For a split second I almost think she’s going to tell me she’s doing yoga.
    ‘He’s driving—’ she begins, but I cut her off.
    ‘But I thought Biju was driving you to the airport?’ I’m standing on tiptoes, looking for her.
    ‘I’m not coming, Rubes.’
    ‘What?’ My phone must be going funny, I must have misheard her. Snatching it away from my ear, I stare at it – no, it looks perfectly normal – then quickly press it back. ‘What do you mean, you’re not coming? You’re late!’
    ‘Rubes, you’re not listening. I’m not getting on the flight.’
    ‘But I don’t understand . . .’ Confusion is whirling.
    ‘I’m not coming back to London.’
    There’s a pause as I’m momentarily lost for words. ‘Have you gone mad?’ I gasp, finding my voice.
    ‘No, I’m not mad . . . I’m in love!’ Her words come out in a sudden rush.
    ‘In love!’ I echo in disbelief. ‘With who?’
    ‘Shine,’ she gushes, her voice bursting with excitement.
    The surprises are coming thick and fast. ‘You mean the yoga instructor?’ I say, astonished.
    But no sooner has his name come out of my mouth than it’s suddenly all falling into place: the way they were when I first saw them on the beach; the text messages on her phone; her excuses that she was always doing yoga. I suddenly feel like a complete idiot. Of course! How could I have been so blind?
    ‘Amy, you’re being ridiculous,’ I snap back. ‘You have to come home. OK, so I understand why you’ve fallen for him – I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m sure every woman in his class is in love with him.’ I’m trying hard to be the voice of reason. Well, someone has to be. I remember what it was like when I was on holiday in Greece aged seventeen and fell head-over-heels for the water-skiing instructor. I wouldn’t listen to anyone. ‘But this is just some holiday romance—’
    ‘We’re getting married.’
    What the . . .?
    For a moment, I can’t speak. Amy has pulled some crazy stunts before but . . . I pause, mid-thought. Of course! This is her idea of a joke!
    ‘Oh, ha-ha, very clever,’ I snap, glancing across departures. She’s probably hiding behind a pillar, ready to jump out. ‘Only this isn’t funny, Amy, the plane’s going to leave without us at this rate. Now will you stop joking around? I’m serious.’
    ‘So am I