the soothing voice continued, âconcentrate on the noises inside and outside this room. Just accept them for what they are, let them pass by like clouds . . .â
Becca could hear the purr of the carâs engine and a motorbike overtaking. She felt drowsy. Sheâd gone to bed later than intended last night.
âRelax all the muscles in your face, your eyebrows, your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth, your tongue, your whole face. Let it go loose and limp, loose and limp.â
Her face felt liquid, muscle-free.
âYour whole face is feeling simply relaxed,â the woman went on. âAnd remember, on every out-breath youâre feeling a little bit more relaxed than before. Now relax all the muscles in your back, down to your buttocks. Relax. Now let this feeling of relaxation move to your shoulders. Let both your shoulders drop down. Loose and limp, loose and limp.â
âWeâre here, miss.â
Beccaâs eyes sprang open. For a moment she had no idea where she was. Then she remembered. She must have nodded off. She sat up quickly and straightened her jacket. There was a wet patch on the lapel. Oh God, sheâd been dribbling.
The taxi driver opened Beccaâs door and pulled her wheelie suitcase from the boot. He produced a receipt from his pocket which she signed hurriedly. Then she grabbed the suitcase and her briefcase and ran. She had no idea what she looked like. Her hair was probably sticking up all over the place but there was no time to muck about.
She plonked herself down in the aircraft with just a few moments to spare and breathed a sigh of relief. She fastened her seatbelt and waited for lift-off. There was a smell of cooking and she realised that she was hungry. On a good day sheâd get to the airport a little early and have her favourite Eggs Benedict for breakfast in the plush Concord Room at Terminal 5. But this morning thereâd been no chance.
She was pleased to be tucked away in a window seat out of sight. She pulled out her BlackBerry furtively, ignoring the announcement about turning off all electronic equipment, and switched on. There were the usual 149 emails but nothing urgent. She glanced quickly down the list at the sender and subject and started deleting junk messages. This would save her a few minutes when she arrived at her hotel, the Mandarin Oriental in San Francisco.
She continued scanning down the email list and was pleased to find one from Nic. It had been sent at 1.30 a.m. She must have typed it after she got home last night. Blimey, she stayed up late.
The subject was âHowdy Doody!â Becca opened up the text. âGood luck, babe, sock it to âem! See you very soon. Nic xâ.
Becca smiled and wrote back: âI have two books with me, something edifying about the spread of Liberalism in Europe and another called The Smart Girlâs Guide to Looking Good and Feeling Great . I know which Iâll read first! Becks xâ.
The plane started to taxi slowly towards the runway and the air steward started the safety routine. Becca closed her eyes and gripped the armrests. How many times had she seen this? She couldnât bear to watch it again, it just made her more nervous.
She tried to imagine that she was at home, curled up on the sofa with the children watching a DVD. Taking off and landing were the worst. It helped if she tried not to hear the engine sounds but focused on something else entirely.
She cast her mind back to the writing group last night. It had been some meeting. Pamela had behaved even more badly than usual and Carol was shocking. But Russell was as sweet and incisive as ever. He was such a nice man. She really valued his comments.
She felt annoyed with herself for having made so little progress in the last few months. Evie was deadly serious about her novel, but she, Becca, had only been playing at it really. But it was all mapped out. She just needed to get down to it. A series of six