Thursday. 0625. The ping of my phone filtered through my sleep. Even as my mind started to function, even before my bleary eyes had managed to focus, I knew it was you. And that the game had started.
A text. From a number I didn't recognise. And in the text a simple URL, which led to a Google doc with a picture of an airport, somewhere hot and dry, and another URL. This one led to a flight booking, already checked in and in my name. Hand baggage only.
My morningdrowsy mind scanned the flight time on the boarding pass and then the time on the phone screen. I grinned. You had timed it well to test me - tight but doable. 1 hour and 50 minutes until the flight took off. 15 minutes to leave the house, 35 minute drive to the airport, 15 minutes for parking, 15 to clear security, 10 minutes to spare before last call for the flight. I was out of bed and into the shower. Stuffed my passport, wallet and few extra things into the small rucksack I had half packed the night before, and jumped into the car.
It had all started about ten days ago. You realised you had a couple of weeks of spare holiday to use up, but I only had a few days. As we sat together pondering what to do, I saw that wicked, thoughtful smile creep across your face. You wouldn't tell me any more, but the following day you came home from work and said "Book Thursday and Friday off next week. I'm going to leave a day or two before you." You didn't tell me anything else. Destination? Plans? Mode of transport? But that smile told me all I needed to know. You had an idea, and it would be fun for us both. On Tuesday morning I got a text at work telling me that you had left the country and that I'd hear from you on Thursday. Nothing more for me to do but wait and see where your adventure would take us.
0830. I smiled as I looked down on the green fields of England slipping away beneath me, lit by the slanting summer sun, wondering what you had planned for me and where the day would end. I knew at least that I would be landing in a small airport in France in 90 minutes, and the adventure would continue from there. Would you be waiting for me? Or maybe a man with a card with my name on. No way of telling. I was entirely in your hands.
0955. On the ground a few minutes early, and my phone leapt into life as we taxied towards the small terminal building. Outside the sun burned down on the brown parched grass at the edge of the runway, and a deep blue sky hung over distant hills and forests. Another ping. Another text. Another smile. Another URL. This time it was the details of a hire car, booked in my name.
Out of the plane, down the steps and a short walk in the hot summer air of southern France and into the terminal building. With no bags to collect I was soon at the car hire desk, where a pretty and friendly assistant sorted out the paperwork for the small car, and then smiled a conspiratorial smile as she said "The lady asked me to give you this". She passed me a plain white envelope. Her grin and parting remark of "Amusez-vous!" made me smile and wonder how much of your plans you had shared with her.
1030. Sitting in the car, in the cool of the underground car park, I open the envelope. The single sheet of paper just has the single word "Campouriez"on it, and a kiss. A quick search showed that Campouriez is a small village deep in the mountains, about three hours drive away. Satnav on, I left the airport and was soon on the open road, windows open and enjoying the drive.
1306. My phone pings. It's a text with the words "2L 1R 4.7 km" and picture of a road junction with a sign to Le Fajol. Second left, first right? Hanging on over the sign is a stripy colourful bra, which I immediately recognise as yours. I smile. Your game is getting naughtier. I like your game.