Flying Duo: Can holiday romances go the distance? Read online

  Can true love go the distance?

  London lawyer Rachel Watson has wound up in an Indian ashram with hippy heartthrob lover, Seb.

  A high-achiever, Rachel has always lived life according to her Life List, ticking off goals along the way. But now that she’s in India, Rachel is going with the flow, or at least trying to...

  Rachel's visa is running out and it’s time to decide whether her relationship with Seb is a holiday romance or built to last.

  The pair embark on a trip to Nepal for an Everest base camp trek, but will their relationship survive this gruelling expedition or is it time to part ways?

  Flying Duo is the second romantic comedy in the ‘Flying’ series, following on from bestseller, Flying Solo, which was described by the Daily Express newspaper as ‘a must read that will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella, Beth O’Leary and Mhari McFarlane’ ★★★★★

  FLYING DUO

  Zoe May

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Dear Miss Watson,

  We are writing to inform you that you are no longer permitted entry to the Hridaya Ashram.

  In light of the recent court case between yourself and Guru Hridaya, we have come to the conclusion that your presence is detrimental to the calm and peaceful atmosphere that we aim to cultivate here. For this reason, you will not be allowed to attend workshops, eat at the ashram’s restaurants, cafes or canteen or use any of the ashram’s facilities.

  You are now banned from setting foot on the ashram’s premises entirely and any violation of this ban will result in your immediate removal from the ashram by force.

  I hope you understand that we feel this is the most appropriate course of action.

  Regards,

  Rahul Manshif

  Ashram Manager

  I stare at the letter, eyes wide. Banned? Who gets banned from an ashram?!

  I look up from the letter at the view of the sea through the window above my desk. I usually find the sight of the Indian Ocean shimmering under the sun soothing, but instead of admiring the rolling waves, I instead catch sight of my own reflection in the glass. I look as bewildered as I feel.

  Okay, so I might have worked with a local law firm to sue the guru of the ashram over tax evasion, resulting in him having to pay back fifty million rupees to the Indian government, but I mean, banned?! That’s just rude. It’s not exactly like I hang out there anyway. I get that I’m not entirely welcome, and I’ve been far too busy lately to take part in any yoga classes. But still, the tone of the letter – its passive aggressive forcefulness makes me feel a bit strange. A bit rejected. I may not approve of the ashram and its practices, but I found myself at a time when I was really lost in that ashram.

  I didn’t come to the ashram to find myself, like most people do. In fact, I came to try win my boyfriend back. My ex, Paul, had grown tired of our life together back in London and so he decided to break up with me and jump on a plane to India to take some time out. Devastated from having been dumped, I decided to try to prove to him that I could be free-spirited and adventurous too and came all the way over here in an effort to patch things up between us. Except things didn’t exactly go according to plan. Firstly, Paul was outraged that I’d dared to follow him to India. He thought it was weird and stalkerish, which is kind of fair. At the time, I was so heartbroken that it felt like the right thing to do. And secondly, he moved on from me quicker than you can say ‘enlightenment’. When I got here, he was already dating an American hippy called Blossom. Feeling like a complete fool, I wanted to jump on the first plane home, except I couldn’t change my flight and I ended up stuck in India for two weeks. I sulked around the ashram for a few days, but after a while, I started to quite enjoy it. I warmed to this place. I started to enjoy the birdsong in the mornings and the peaceful, relaxing way of life. I met some interesting people who opened my eyes to new things like meditation and mindfulness, and before I knew it, I was coming to terms with the end of my relationship and realising that it was actually me who had needed to find herself.

  I met Seb too. He was staying at my guesthouse and took me under his wing, being a true friend to me during that confusing time, but then we started to fall for each other, even though in many ways we’re total opposites, with me being an extremely driven corporate lawyer from London and him a curious and slightly directionless spiritual seeker from Montreal. But despite our differences, we fell in love. We got to know each other while walking along the ashram’s winding terracotta paths and hanging out in each other’s treehouse rooms. I couldn’t believe it when I rocked up at the guesthouse and realised the room I’d booked was literally up a tree – a small treehouse covered in bamboo leaves, and yet I grew to love staying there. I have great memories of the place and now, I’m banned.

  I know the letter is just a snub, a mean and petty way to get back at me for winning the court case. So much for enlightenment. I toss the letter onto the coffee table behind me with a sigh and go outside to sit on the balcony of the flat I now share with Seb. When we first got together, we were both staying in the ashram, but then I started working on my lawsuit against the ashram founder, Guru Hridaya, and we knew we had to move. We got a cute ramshackle flat in the city of Pondicherry a few miles away from the ashram site. The town used to be a French colonial settlement and the architecture reflects that legacy, with quirky mustard-coloured houses and tall white weather-beaten townhouses with blue shuttered windows facing the sea. Seb and I got a flat right by the seafront with a balcony overlooking the beach. Whenever I’m stressed, I go out and sit on the balcony and watch the waves come and go. The steady gentle ebb and flow is always calming.

  I hear the pad of Seb’s footsteps behind me and turn around. He’s been meditating in the next room and he seems a little dazed as he often is when he’s been meditating for a while. It’s almost like waking up from sleep for him.

  ‘What’s up?’ Seb asks. ‘You look down.’

  ‘Oh.’ I force a smile, but it probably looks as laboured as it feels.

  I give up. Seb sits down in one of the wicker chairs as I lean against the balcony rails.

  ‘I just got a letter from the ashram informing me that I’m permanently banned and if I go back I’ll get “removed by force”,’ I explain.

  ‘Removed by Force?’ Seb echoes, his mouth twisting into a smile. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ I insist, although Seb starts laughing regardless.

  I roll my eyes, although I reluctantly find myself smiling too, beginning to see the funny side. I've been banned from an ashram. That is quite an achievement.

  ‘They said I was “detrimental to the peace and ambience”,’ I tell Seb.

  He snorts with laughter.

  ‘Sorry!’ he says, in between giggles.

  I can’t help laughing. I sink down into the wicker chair next to him.

  ‘It is kind of funny, I suppose,’ I say. ‘But I do feel a bit like an outcast now.’

  Seb stops laughing and turns to me, a sympathetic look in his eyes. ‘You did know this was going to happen though, didn’t you?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, I didn’t think I’d be outright banned. I thought myself and Guru Hridaya had a tacit understanding that we’d stay out of each other’s way,’ I tell him. ‘Being banned just feels weird.’

  Seb shrugs. ‘Well, I guess they just wanted to make it official. They’re annoyed they lost the lawsuit and I suppose this is their way of getting back at you.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ I sigh.

  Seb reaches over and squeezes my knee.

  ‘Don’t let Guru Hridaya get to you! You’re better than him,’ he assures me, with a sweet smile.

  He’s right. Guru Hridaya is incredibly corrupt. He claims to be an enlightened, modern-day incarnation of Shiva and yet when he’s not at the ashram, he’s driving a Ferrari, living in a mansion and leading a life of Hollywood-style excess. He’s spent years collecting donations from his followers and charging tourists extortionate amounts for self-discovery courses and yet he hadn’t paid a penny of tax, meaning that despite the ashram bringing thousands of visitors to the area every month, the streets were run down, pitted with potholes and spattered with litter. He thought he could get away with it, assuming that no one would challenge him in court, but my law firm specialises in tax evasion and fraud cases and we took on the case.

  ‘I know I’m better than Guru Hridaya, but we just had so many happy memories at the ashram that it feels a bit weird to be shut out,’ I comment.

  Seb smiles sympathetically.

  I know the letter shouldn’t really affect me and tha
t it is a bit petty, but I do feel a bit put out. Perhaps it’s having how unwelcome I am spelt out in black and white that’s making it feel more cutting and real. Life around here revolves around the ashram. It’s the beating heart of the community and now I’m officially banned. It makes me feel like maybe I should move on. Maybe the time has come to leave India. My firm insisted I take some time off after the gruelling case. They suggested that if I’d like to, perhaps I could take on some more cases over here, get a work visa, but I’m beginning to feel that it might be time to leave. But where do I go from here? What’s next not only for me, but for me and Seb?

  I’ve been so busy with the legal case lately that I haven’t given that much thought to our future. We’ve been so happy together so far. Ever since we met, we’ve been inseparable. Back when we were at the ashram, we were staying in the same guesthouse, spending pretty much every day and night together, and then we moved to this little flat and we’ve been each other’s world here too. I thought it might be make or break moving in together, away from the community at the ashram and all of its distractions, but it’s been amazing. Instead of boring each other or getting on each other’s nerves, Seb and I have just grown closer. I’ve grown to love our daily routine of waking up, lying in each other’s arms, the sun streaming in through the windows, before eating breakfast on the balcony. I’ve done most of my work on the case in the flat, communicating with a law firm in Mumbai and my company back home online. Sometimes I’ve even worked on the balcony, the sun warming my arms as I type, the sound of the waves lapping away at the shore in the background. Seb is from Montreal and is fluent in French and English and so he’s been doing some freelance translation work. He even went up to Mumbai recently for a meeting with a tech company looking to expand their business to France and he’s had loads of work from them since. He doesn’t particularly love sitting in front of his computer, but we make up for it in the evenings, when we go for walks along the beach or if it’s particularly hot, a swim. We don’t have a TV and when the sun’s gone down, sometimes I’ll join Seb in meditation or we’ll sit and read together, the flat lit by tea lights and smelling of incense. It’s been heavenly and a complete contrast to my life back in London – the crowded Tube journeys, the dull suits and corporate offices, the evenings spent in front of the TV, scrolling on Facebook.

  It’s not just the lifestyle that I’ve fallen in love with, but Seb. I’ve fallen for him in a big way. He knows I love him. We told each other the first day we moved into this flat. We were sitting together on the balcony, curled up under a blanket, watching the sun set and the words just tumbled out of us. We were both on exactly the same page: completely and utterly in love. But even though I know Seb adores me as much as I adore him, we haven’t really discussed the future. Seb is all about living in the moment, and while that’s great and everything, it’s also, kind of anxiety-inducing at times too. The deeper in love I’ve fallen with him, the more I’ve begun to wonder what our long-term plans are, and the more I’ve felt I haven’t been able to ask without ruining the magic. I love what we have, and I haven’t wanted to burst our bubble by having that conversation. We’ve been together for around six months now. Most couples don’t have to discuss their future in such serious terms after just six months, but Seb and I will have to.

  Seb’s from Quebec and I’m from southeast London. Our visas will eventually run out and even though life over here is amazing, I do sometimes feel like a bit of a runaway. I miss my friends back home, my family, my lovely house. But if I go back to London, where does that leave me and Seb? Will we go our separate ways, consigning our relationship to an incredible holiday romance? Are we going to try to have a long-distance thing? Or are we going to decide to settle down together either in London or Quebec, which would be a serious commitment to make for a relatively new relationship. I’ve contemplated moving to Quebec and while I would if I had to, to be with Seb, I’d rather we settled in London. I’m a partner at my law firm in the City and it’s a job I’ve worked extremely hard for. My career has always been important to me, whereas Seb is a bit lost. He’s really intelligent, but he hasn’t quite settled on a career path yet. It would make a lot more sense for us to move to London, where I have a good job and a house. But the conversation is so big and fraught that I keep avoiding it. What if we realise that despite loving each other, we have to go our separate ways? That would be so heart-breaking.

  ‘Don't feel like a pariah,’ Seb says, no doubt noting the troubled expression on my face. He clearly thinks I’m still upset about the letter. ‘You’re a local hero,’ he adds.

  I laugh.

  I’m not exactly a local hero, but there are quite a few people in the community that appreciate the work that I put in to get Guru Hridaya to start paying tax. The story’s been in the local papers with my picture a few times and sometimes as I'm walking around town, one or two of the locals will give me a respectful nod or I’ll receive little tokens of thanks like a free loaf of bread in the bakery or a cup of chai in shops. It’s nice, but then on the flipside, there are also ashram dwellers and devotees of Guru Hridaya who don’t particularly approve of me, believing I’ve tarnished the name of their beloved guru. They all wear white robes – the clothing of choice of the guru’s devotees – and often when I pass them, they’ll shoot me dirty looks, which can be quite unpleasant. It’s one of the reasons I spend so much time sitting on the balcony these days, gazing out to sea.

  ‘I think…’ I utter, feeling suddenly nervous. ‘I think maybe we should move on.’

  ‘Huh? What do you mean?’ Seb asks, a look of alarm on his face.

  I realise my heart's beating faster in my chest, my palms beading with sweat.

  ‘We can’t live here forever,’ I point out, feeling like I’ve addressed the elephant in the room. ‘I’m… I’m not sure I feel like I belong here anymore.’

  Seb looks down at the ground. He frowns.

  ‘We still have a bit of time left on our visas, we could go on holiday?’ he suggests after a moment, looking back up. ‘Go somewhere else for a bit.’

  I nod, realising he’s dodged the bigger issue of the future of our relationship.

  ‘We may as well explore more of Asia while we’re in this part of the world,’ he comments.

  ‘Where do you want to go? I ask him.

  Seb shrugs. ‘Vietnam would be cool. Maybe Thailand,’ he suggests.

  I shake my head. The last thing I want to do right now is go to Thailand. My future is unclear, and my head is a mess, I definitely don’t feel like going to a tourist hotspot, full of beach parties and bars.

  ‘How about Nepal?’ Seb suggest, his eyes lighting up.

  Nepal is more appealing. I think of the serene lakes, beautiful temples, fluttering bunting. Nepal would probably make a good change. It seems like an interesting place with beautiful scenery and it’s not a full-on party destination like some of the other countries in Asia. I picture me and Seb visiting temples or sitting in a little boat on a big still lake between mountains. It could be heavenly and just what I need after battling a stressful legal case.

  ‘Yeah, that might be fun,’ I reply, warming to the idea.

  Seb smiles enthusiastically. ‘That's what we should do then, let’s go to Nepal!’ he says brightly.

  ‘Okay,’ I laugh, amused at how spontaneous he is, how totally willing he is to go with the flow. His adventurous spirit is infectious.

  ‘Let’s go to Nepal then.’

  ‘Let’s do it!’ Seb smiles. He reaches over and takes my hand, lacing his long fingers through mine.

  I squeeze his hand and lean in for a kiss.

  So our next stop is Nepal. It’s not quite what I expected the result of a conversation about our future to be, and the uncertainty is still weighing on my mind, but going to Nepal will be an interesting adventure and it might help. Things have been fun here, but they have been getting a bit stale too. A change of scenery will probably do us both good and it might allow us to put things into perspective. Eventually we’ll have to discuss our future, whether it’s here or in Kathmandu.

  ‘I can’t wait!’ Seb enthuses. ‘When shall we leave?’