The Abduction of the Century
I want men to chase after me and cry that they cant catch up! Emily read aloud from a slip of paper, flame flickering under her thumb. She caught the ashes in her champagne flute and downed the drink, her laughter ringing out amid her friends.
The fairy lights on the Christmas tree blinked thoughtfully, then shone even brighter. The music turned jubilant, glasses sang, faces spun and blurred into a festive whirligig. Gold dust shimmered from the branchesor so it seemed in memory…
Muuum Mum, wake up!
Emily prised one eye open. Towering over her was what looked like a small football team.
Who are you lot? Do I know you, children?
The kids, full of mischief, introduced themselves with solemn nods:
Mum, its meEdward, 9; Oliver, 7; George, 5; Charliehes 3!
A full line-up, no substitutes, every face cheeky and determined. Not quite the men Emily had dreamt would chase her on New Years Eve…
And wheres your coach?Sorry, I meanwheres your father? she croaked, throat as dry as January grass. Get your mum some water, will you?
She let her eyes close for a heartbeatonly to be nudged at once. Mum!
Two glasses of water were thrust into her hands with a peeled satsuma and a mug of pickle brine. The oldest boy now knew precisely how to bring her back to life after the holidays. They were growing up, these boys.
Mum, you promised! the little ones whined.
Emily racked her foggy mind, trying to recall what shed promised and how exactly she had landed here.
A film?
Nooo.
McDonalds?
No!
The toy shop?
Mum! Dont pretend! Were packed and ready, but youre still in bed!
And where, dare I ask, are we going, children? she surrendered.
Darling, up you get, came a mans voice. In strode a tall, dark-haired fellow whose hazel eyes caught golden flecks in the light. Goodnesswhat a looker!
Were all setcars loaded up. Well nip into Tesco on the way, then off we go!
Emily struggled in vain to recall who this man was, or why these children called her mother. Her mind was a perfect blank. Not a single explanation.
Mum, dont forget our trunks! And yours, too! yelled a voice from the hallway.
Trunks? Is there a pool?her mind raced. What is this magical dream-life, and why cant I remember any of it?
She opened her eyes and surveyed the room. Nothing looked familiar. Not one belonging, not a photograph on the dresser, not even the thick curtains with their strange pattern.
Everything was foreign except a single red poinsettia on the sill. Its petals a deep velvet, the pot a shiny white trimmed with pearlsfaintly, inexplicably familiar.
Closing her eyes, Emily gingerly began to untangle the thread of yesterday. She and her girlfriends had gathered at a local pub to ring in the New Year and play Secret Santajust like old uni days, only now with posh handbags, elaborate hairdos, and chronic lack of time.
The women were resplendent, giggling with the giddy thrill of rare freedom, stealing time from husbands, children, chores, and endless stews. They glowednot unlike schoolgirls skiving off the last lesson.
Only Emily remained calm and poised, as ever. She was, after all, singleher own mistress. No one to warn or wait for, no accounting for her time.
The last of the bachelorettes, her friends would tease, topping up her prosecco with a wink.
She had given her friend a luxury face creamblack caviar and gold thread. Laughter buzzed about how one could spread it on toast and serve it with breakfast bubbles. They posed the jar for photosmore a work of art than mere beauty product.
In return, Emily received a Christmas poinsettia in the familiar pot, and a bottle of rare English sparkling wine, the sort whispered about and saved for the most special moments.
Shed read out a wishwas it a toast?then nothing. After that, it was blank. Like an old slapstick: went out, fell over, woke upplaster cast.
Staring into the mirror, she saw the same young woman as before. Even her eye make-up was last nights. But where had the kids and the husband come from? She didnt recall giving birth, changing nappies, let alone marrying this handsome stranger. She knew the childrens names, but the husbands? Not a clue. Something felt terribly off
She went into the corridor. There they were: two sleek suitcases on wheelsone black, one beige, both with high-end tags. Three sporty kids rucksacks sat nearby.
So, not off for a picnic, perhaps a grand journey instead
Just then, the husband returned. He swung both suitcases up with straightforward ease, as though it was second nature, and gently herded her to the door.
Well be late, he said calmly.
Glancing at her hand, Emily froze. No wedding ring. Not on her finger, nor on his. Another odd twist. Or?
One by one, the children clambered into a roomy minivan. Rucksacks flew to their spots, seat belts clicked with well-drilled precision. He took the wheel. Emily drew a deep breath and slid into the passenger seat.
He handed her a coffee cup at once. Warm, milky, the kind she loathed. Somehow, that stung the most.
Right then, lets be off! he grinned, winking at the kids. The car drew away from the curb, and as the city faded, unease knotted in her stomach.
The children chattered and giggled, whispering their secret debates. The man drove on with practiced confidence, occasionally sneaking her a cheeky glance, as if sharing some private joke. As if he alone knew the answer she could not recall.
Emily watched the road, feeling as lost as a hedgehog in the fogeverything looking ordinary: family, car, destination. Yet nothing made sense.
After escaping the city for the country roads, Emily was certain: this was not her family. This was a strange man and unfamiliar children.
Hed abducted them.
Nohed abducted her!
But then, why did the childrens names come so easily to her? In the end, Emilys mind whirled into knots, but clarity winked through: beside her was a stranger, a kidnapper, and something had to be done.
Emily straightened in her seat, clutching her coffee determinedly, and stared hard out the window. Inside, a different side of her awokethe survivor, not the dazed woman.
Half an hour later, a chorus erupted from the back.
Dad, loo!
Im thirsty!
Any snacks?
The car pulled into a motorway services. Everyone spilt out and headed for the building.
Here was her chance! Emilys heart pounded, drowning out the engine. As the others dawdled, she ducked low and sprinted to the car, scrambling into the drivers seat…
No keys in the ignition.
There you arethought wed lost you, he said from the open window. Emily jolted.
All aboard, lets crack on, he said, gentle as ever. Ill drivehave a bit of a rest, you. And off they went again.
An hour on, an airport loomedsteel, glass, crowds jostling. The car was left behind, and the whole bombastic crew, rucksacks and all, bustled inside.
Now nerves sizzled. Emily would not be whisked off into oblivion, would not stand for abduction. She would fight.
Hanging back from her too-perfect family, Emily edged further away, then broke into a run.
Help! Ive been kidnapped! she shrieked at a nearby security guard.
Quick as a flash, she found herself wrestled down, turned over, and handcuffed. Uniformed figures sprang up with radios and stern faces.
Wait! Please! I can explain! her husband pleaded.
Its a prank! An absolute New Years joke! No weaponswere harmless!
His voice was distant, underwater. And suddenly, like a film reel, Emily saw themher friends, waving giddily from behind a massive advert. Beaming, embarrassed, nervous, and gleeful at once.
Mum! The children raced to one woman among the friendsnot Emily, but another, in their cluster. Her friends, meanwhile, crowded the guards, breathless with laughter, babbling apologies, pleading for the kidnappers release.
Emily was helped up, the cuffs came off. The world steadied. She stood, hair wild, heart hammeringrealising, finally, she hadnt been stolen.
Shed been pranked?
As adrenaline ebbed and the hubbub faded, Emilys ears opened to her friends:
It had all been a scheme.
A vast, expensive, ensemble production. A touch of crime drama for flavour.
Her friends rushed over, explaining, laughing, apologising, and defending themselves at once.
Turned out, theyd wanted her to meet a good chap. The very one whod adored her from afar, too shy to make a moveknowing her fierce independence too well. Emily always replied to hints with a smile:
Thanks, but no thanks. Im alright on my own.
So her friends hadnt dared approach directly. Why waste time persuading, when you could simply demonstrate?
Thus, the plan was born: not an introduction, but an immersiona whole family morning. There you go: the chaos, the coffee, the coolly competent fellow, children sorted, a man who smiled without words. And truly, those eyeshazel flecked with goldwere handsome indeed.
We wanted you to feel, not think, her friends sheepishly confessed.
Emily found herself unable to stay cross. Womens logic, after all, hates brazen pushes, but loves a clear result.
Yes, the method was questionable. Yes, she nearly had a heart attack. But what an experiment! Sometimes, the only way to know if you need a man is with one strange morning, three kids, and a kidnappers coffee.
And then, she saw himthe hero of the piecesmirking with that ever-so-English, Cheshire Cat grin. His nephews clung to him, chuffed by their favourite uncles drama.
Youre late! her friends cried. Your flight! Off you go!
What, a second abduction? Emily thought, her head spinning. Where were they off tosome sunlit shore? The Med? Swimming with fishes and eating juicy mangoes?
He held out his hand.
Shall we try this again? Im James. Mind if I steal you away? he said with a gentle smile.
Emily glanced at her friends. They waited, anxious and hopeful, eyes twinkling. Her gaze swept over the bags, then back to Jamess golden-flecked eyes, peering straight into hers.
Why not agree, she thought. Whats stopping me?
Lets go! Emily laughed to herself, smiling, realising this abduction might just be the most welcome adventure.
Almost whispering, she added, But only if the children stay behind
Her friends burst out laughing, James grinned wider, and the airport, with all its bustling crowds, became the absurdly warm and ridiculous start of something entirely new.
Sometimes, life isnt stealing us away.
It just tips us headlong into the place we were always meant to land.
