March 22nd, 1990
Flight from LHR – CDG, as a passenger
Bold. That’s the word I’m using to describe my mood but this morning I still felt annoyed that I didn’t speak up yesterday and tell Ben to piss off. That feeling waned somewhat after my first cup of tea and a few jammie dodgers and by the time I’d polished off a few more with my second cuppa, I was able to put him out of my head.
“What are you doing?” mum asked, coming into my room.
“What does it look like?”
“Don’t be cheeky.”
“Sorry,” I said, zipping my bag up. “I’m going to Paris.”
“Yeah, why not?”
“I never heard you on the phone.”
“With Jack John. I didn’t know you spoke to him.”
“His name is Jean Jacques, mum and eh, yeah, so I’ll be back before standby starts on Saturday, if not before.”
Mum opened her mouth to speak then promptly closed it.
“What?” I asked.
“Just make sure you leave me John John’s phone number in case I need to get hold of you.”
“It’s Jean Jacques. And I already put his number in the book.”
“Beside the phone?”
“Uh-huh,” I uttered, dragging the bag off the bed.
“And his number is for emergency purposes only.”
Before I drove off, I made sure I had the key to Jean Jacques flat. Hopefully he won’t be too upset when I show up, unexpectedly!