Please Forgive Me (5 page)

Leonie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘A while back, not long after the twins were born actually.’

‘Really? I can’t remember that at all but then again, that’s no surprise
-
back then my brain was like mush! Africa, eh? So what’s it like? Will it suit us because I really don’t know if…oh!’ she exclaimed, breaking off in mid-sentence, and Leonie knew she’d finally copped it. ‘After the twins? Of course! Sure wasn’t it there that you – ‘

‘Yep,’ Leonie finished, trying to keep her tone even. ‘It’s where Adam and I first met.’

‘Oh Lee, I’m sorry, I completely forgot, and I didn’t mean to bring all that up....’

‘Hey, no need to apologise, I can’t pretend he never existed, can I?’

‘But isn’t that sort of what you’re doing now?’ her friend pointed out and Leonie marvelled at how her friend, despite her scattiness, somehow always managed to zoom right to the heart of the matter.

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘It’s not. All I’m doing at the moment is trying to leave the bad stuff behind.’

‘Oh, I don’t bloody
believe
this….’ Grace groaned again, and Leonie wondered what the kids were up to this time. ‘Rocky! What on earth goes through that head of yours?’ she said in obvious exasperation.

‘Grace, honestly, you’d better go, it sounds like you really have your hands full there.’

‘I suppose I’d better before they burn the house down around us,’ her friend sighed. ‘Typical, the one time I get to have a bit of adult conversation! Oh well, never mind, congratulations on the new job and I’ll talk to you again soon, OK?’

‘Sure,’ Leonie replied. ‘Give my love to the kids.’

Having said goodbye, she replaced the handset and walked over to the bay window, her thoughts still full of the conversation about Grace’s holiday plans.

Tunisia of all places.

Well with any luck she mused, her thoughts drifting back to her own experiences there, Grace would have as unforgettable a time as she had.

The flight had been delayed in Dublin by a couple of hours, so by the time Leonie arrived at Tunis airport, she was jaded and irritable. The early evening heat and stuffy arrivals hall didn’t do much to lift her spirits, and as she waited at the carousel for her luggage she was inclined to agree with what Grace had said before she left.

‘I don’t know what you get out of taking off abroad like this,’ her friend chided when Leonie informed her she was heading away for a week’s holiday. ‘It’ll hardly be much fun on your own and maybe if you gave me a bit more notice, I might have been able to come along with you.’

But Leonie knew that pigs would fly before Grace would leave her beloved newborns, (nor would she expect her to) not to mention that these days her friend generally needed a few weeks’ notice for something as simple as meeting up for coffee!

Notwithstanding the fact that Grace wasn’t a fan of foreign travel, so in truth the thought of asking her to come along had never even crossed Leonie’s mind. As it was, she’d been due a couple of week’s annual leave from work, so she decided to make the most of them.

A quick search on the internet for last-minute sun holidays had thrown up the usual packages in Spain, Portugal and such-like, which didn’t particularly interest her, and she was just about to abandon the plan altogether when she came across an option for Tunisia. It wasn’t somewhere that had ever been high on her list of countries to visit, yet it did sound that little bit more interesting than Costa del Golf.

A few days lounging by the pool combined with a taste of North African culture sounded good, and a bit of sunshine would definitely be welcome. Even though it was late April and almost summer, Leonie could barely remember what the sun looked like.

But now as she waited impatiently at the carousel, sweat rolling down her back and the heavy reek of tobacco in the air, she wondered if this was such a good idea after all. She wouldn’t mind but she’d only brought a teeny case, small enough to count as hand luggage on any other day, except for the old-school and restrictive rules of this particular airline. Hardly surprising when the ancient 737 that had flown them here had threadbare seats, an out of order in-flight entertainment system and in all honesty, looked to be held together with little more than duct tape!

A few minutes later Leonie finally spied her little case, one of the few that wasn’t festooned with brightly coloured ribbons and other identifiable markers, but was instead a simple generic-looking holdall. Going outside the terminal she waved down a taxi, and much to her relief was soon en route to her hotel.

Almost immediately she felt her irritation subside and her body relax as she stared out the window of the cab and began to take in her new surroundings. There was always something wonderfully addictive about arriving in a brand new country, and even though there wasn’t a whole lot to see on the way in from the airport, it was still enthralling.

On her own or not, this was the main reason she had come here. It had been over a year since her last relationship, and she wasn’t too hopeful of starting another any time soon. It was difficult being single in Dublin at thirty, as the old cliché of all the good ones being taken very much held true. And Leonie had tired of the merry-go-round of going with her friends to nightclubs and hoping to bump into Mr Right. It seemed like it was never going to happen and in all honesty, she no longer had the energy for that kind of thing. If she met someone, she met someone but she wasn’t going to actively search for him.

Truthfully, she’d love what Grace had now; the lovely husband, gorgeous children and loads of extended family close by. But with her parents scattered on opposite sides of the globe and ne’er a man in sight, it was never really going to be an option, was it? Oh well, Leonie thought, trying to shake any negative thoughts out of her head, and focus on the lovely week of sunshine and relaxation that was ahead.

All the way in from the airport, the architecture had been very ‘Arabian nights’, so she couldn’t help but feel let down when the taxi eventually pulled up outside a well-maintained, but disappointingly generic-looking tourist hotel. She’d been hoping for something a bit more exotic and interesting, but what the hell – after a few days she’d no doubt be glad of the home comforts!
 

Having checked-in at the front desk, she went to her room and was delighted to see that her balcony overlooked a large and hugely enticing freeform swimming pool. The room itself was basic but clean, although she realised, there was no air-conditioning!

Rivulets of sweat were now rolling down her back and Leonie seriously needed some cooling off. She stared again at the cerulean blue waters of the lighted pool. It was by now late evening so the pool itself was empty and there wasn’t a soul to be seen in the surrounding area. A relaxing solitary dip would be just the thing to ease away the after-effects of the journey, wouldn’t it?

Leonie put her case on the bed and unzipped it, intending just to whip out her bikini; she’d unpack the rest later. But instead of a familiar pile of colourful holiday clothes, to her astonishment (and immense dismay), she opened the case to find a selection of drab looking stuff she didn’t recognise.

‘Blast you anyway!’ she groaned, immediately realising she’d picked up the wrong bag. A man’s bag too by the looks of things, and someone who would probably be just as pleased to find a load of rainbow-coloured shorts, sun-dresses, and bikinis when he opened hers. Not to mention her underwear, she moaned, raising a sweaty hand to her forehead.

Leonie couldn’t believe it. In all the places she’d been, all the flights she’d taken and the crappiest places she’d stayed in, this had never happened.

But how
had
it happened, she wondered now. OK so she’d obviously picked up the wrong bag, but had the owner of this one – she began examining it for a name and hopefully an address – picked up her bag long before it even reached her at the carousel? Which would have caused her to automatically assume this one was hers.

She flipped back the lid of the case and took a closer look at the front. Nope, there was absolutely no reason for her to assume it wasn’t hers, as it looked exactly the same – except of course, she thought, kicking herself, she hadn’t bothered to check the nametag. While she always included a forwarding address on her luggage tag this person hadn’t bothered, which meant that the task of getting her stuff back anytime soon was going to be even harder.

But maybe there would be something inside?

Leonie began searching through the packed clothes, the stifling humidity heightening her irritation even further. Whoever this guy was, he was pretty anal, she mused, taking note of the meticulously folded shirts, T-shirts and trousers and ugh! She quickly avoided a few pairs of nasty looking Y-fronts.

Or maybe his wife was? Everything was neatly laid out alongside shoes and toiletries as well as a couple of paperbacks with literary-looking covers and titles she didn’t recognise. OK, so your man fancied himself as a bit of intellectual, Leonie figured, rather enjoying building up a mental picture of the owner in this way. She wondered if he was doing the same in return somewhere with her things. She’d hoped not as this sure was a stark contrast to her selection of hastily thrown together selection of mismatched shorts, T-shirts and dresses. And he’d almost certainly turn his nose up at her unashamedly pink-jacketed choice of reading material!

Having checked through one pile of clothes, Leonie shoved them aside and went to start on the other, hoping to find something that would help identify the owner (and therefore the whereabouts) of the bag.
 
But as she did, she spotted a small navy box hidden in the centre of the two piles.

Her eyes widened, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t be doing it, she had the box out and open in her hand before she could even think properly about the rights and wrongs. But why would anyone carry a ring in a suitcase and not keep it on them? Hmm. And a
very
nice ring at that. Expensive too she mused, lifting it out to study in more detail the delicate cluster setting.

Well this was interesting. Whoever this guy was, he was obviously planning on popping the question throughout the course of this holiday and … Then the thought suddenly dawned on Leonie that unlike herself, the owner of this bag wouldn’t just be inconvenienced, but was by now probably up the walls about the mix up. And here she was merrily nosing through his things!

A sudden sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and caused her to jump almost ten feet in the air.

‘Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!’ an urgent-sounding voice called out from the hallway.

‘Coming!’ The voice was so insistent that Leonie didn’t stop to think before reacting and she went straight to the door to find the hotel porter standing outside.

Alongside him was a tall, frazzled-looking man who held a bag identical to the one lying open on the bed behind Leonie. And unlike the one in her possession, which had half its contents in a heap, her bag looked completely untouched.

She wished with all her heart that the ground would open up and swallow her when the man’s disbelieving gaze moved from the messy pile of clothes on the bed, back to Leonie and the ring box she was still holding in her hand.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ The man gasped, roughly snatching the ring out of Leonie’s tentatively outstretched paw. ‘This isn’t yours!’

‘I’m sorry, I …’ Leonie was mortified. Small wonder the guy was upset, she would be too if she happened upon some stranger rooting through her personal belongings! ‘Look, it’s not how it looks, I was just looking through the bag for a name, or an address…’

Now, she cursed herself for her stupidity and indeed her downright nosiness. In truth, all her notions of trying to find the owner had gone right out the window once she’d started prodding and poking around in his suitcase. Why couldn’t she just have left well enough alone?

‘Looking for an address! What – did you think it would be inscribed on the inside of the ring, is that it?’

‘No, it just appeared and
-
’She looked helplessly at the hotel porter, who was standing there looking equally appalled at this behaviour. ‘It’s really all very innocent, honestly.’ God, the hotel wouldn’t turn her over to the police, would they? She knew that in some of these countries the punishment for stealing was jail or sometimes even worse – like getting a limb chopped off. Oh God, imagine being locked up in the Tunisian equivalent of the Bangkok Hilton for sheer nosiness!

‘And to think that I went out of my way, and came all the way over here quick as I could to return
your
bag to you …’ He paused from flinging his things back into the bag to run a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the mortifying circumstances, Leonie couldn’t help but notice how incredibly well-toned his arms were. Or the incredible colour of his eyes; which were the deepest darkest blue, almost violet. The picture she’d built up of the guy from his stuff was so at odds with the reality it was almost startling.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Leonie repeated, deeply ashamed of herself, so much so that she could no longer even try to defend her actions. ‘I really didn’t mean to pry. Thank you for bringing my case back, I really appreciate it and hope you didn’t have to go too far out of your way?’

‘Well I’m only glad I got here when I did, otherwise who knows where this stuff would have ended up,’ he grunted, and despite herself Leonie felt her hackles rice. Wasn’t he the one who’d caused all this in the first place?

‘Now, hold on a second, who do you think you are, barging in here and accusing me of all sorts?’ she retorted, the heat once again stirring her irritation. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t
dream
of answering back like this but… ‘I was at the airport minding my own business and waiting for my stuff when
you
were the bright spark who made off with a bag without bothering to check it first! So think about who’s
really
at fault here before you start accusing me of stealing your precious bloody … Y-fronts!’
 
Then, she winced inwardly, wishing she’d chosen to refer to something other than his underwear.