Page 11 of Head Over Skis

Maybe I should be more excited. Clearly, I’m doing something right at work to be given another person to manage, which is always nice to know. Yet when I was told, I felt the same as I do every other day. Don’t get me wrong, I love my team, but in terms of the actual work, it’s a job I do for the money it pays me, and that’s about as far as the thrill stretches.

Now we’re all here, we head towards bag drop, then make it through security without anyone getting patted down. Tilly grabs a quick breakfast from Pret and tries not to cry at the fact a croissant and another Americano cost her nearly £10.

While we’re waiting for the gate, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out to see a text from my mum wishing me a safe flight. I click on her number and hit ring, hoping to catch her for a quick chat while I assume she’s making her morning cup of tea. I only need to wait a second before she picks up and I hear her comforting voice on the other side of the line.

‘Hold on, darling, busy filling the kettle.’

I smile, having correctly guessed what she was doing. ‘No worries, just wanted a quick catch-up before we set off. I’m not sure what signal’s going to be like where we’re staying.’

I listen to the sounds of the tap running, the kettle switch being pressed down and the clinking of a mug being pulled from the cupboard.

‘Don’t worry if you can’t call when you’re out there, focus on having fun with your friends! How’s that going by the way?’

She sounds hesitant and I look over at where Adam is sitting on the steel chairs nearby, scrolling through something on his phone, and I know what she’s really asking.

‘Fine. Or I guess, a little weird? I don’t really know,’ I admit.

‘I think that’s expected,’ she says, not pushing me for a clearer answer, and also not judging me for being so confused.

I know my parents haven’t always understood my relationship, given they’ve never really argued throughout thirty years of marriage, let alone broken up before and gotten back together. But they’ve trusted me to figure things out with Adam on my own, always there to listen and support me when I need it but never telling me what I should, or shouldn’t, do.

‘We’re here if you need to talk, but I know you know that already,’ she continues, like she’s reading my thoughts.

My heart squeezes, part of me wishing I wasn’t getting on a plane and going away from them for two weeks. My parents are my rocks, always have been. We’re a little unit of three, and she’s right that I know they’re always there for me, like I’ve always tried to be there for them. Helping them out of any sticky situations, which is partly why I never like to be too far away.

‘Oh, your father’s come down, hold on one second…’ Her voice tapers off as she lowers the phone and I catch the muffled sound of her calling out to Dad. There’s some shuffling before I hear him, and when I do his voice gives me more energy than all the coffees I’ve drunk this morning combined.

‘Kiddo! There’s our little adrenaline junkie, how are you doing?’

I chuckle, kicking my feet out and settling further into my chair. ‘Dad, I’m the least adrenaline-seeking person ever, and you know it.’

He doesn’t deny it and instead starts telling me about his week before going off on a tangent about the neighbour’s cat who keeps sneaking into their garden. I have to cut him off before he goes on too long, knowing our gate number will soon be announced.

‘I meant to ask, how’s the script going for that pilot? The one you were telling me about last week?’

It’s for a new TV drama, a crime-procedural but with a supernatural twist, and Dad was so excited when he was brought on as a writer for it.

‘Oh yes, I need you to cross your fingers and toes for me on that one, are you doing it?’

My toes are squished in my trainers, but I manage to cross them, as well as the fingers on my free hand, which rests in my lap. It’s a silly ritual we do every time Dad has a project that we’re waiting to hear back on, or Mum’s had a big audition and we’re yet to get the results.

‘Yep, everything’s crossed – so did your agent say when you’d hear back?’

‘There’s a big studio considering it now, and we’re expecting to hear from them either way in the next few weeks.’

A few weeks, I repeat, which means it’s highly likely he’ll hear back while I’m still away. Again, I feel sad that I’m leaving, in case I miss out on the celebrations.

‘Okay, I’ll be thinking of you, Dad.’

‘Thanks, pumpkin, we could really do with this,’ he says, the enthusiasm in his voice waning, and I know enough to be able to read between the lines. What he’s really saying is they could do with the money a successful pilot could bring in.

He’s worked so hard, both of them have, that I hope they get some good news soon, either with Dad’s scripts or Mum’s auditions. But whatever happens, I’ll be there if they need me to help dig them out of any holes. It’s what I do.

Around me, the others start to stand, and our boarding gate appears on the big screen.

‘I’ve got to go, Dad, but I’ll text you both once we land and I’ll call you again soon. Love you.’

‘Lots of love to you too, pumpkin. Ski safe!’