Getting back up, I see the man sitting next to me has gone back into my seat. Sighing, I plonk myself on the end and think about what I'm going to do when I get to Paris, but the only thing I can think about is if I'm doing the right thing. I mean what if Mum wakes up and thinks I abandoned her, I mean I sort of did, but, oh whatever. I'll ring her when I get off the plane. Right, six hours left, nothing to do, but fantasise about Chanel. This is going to be a long trip.

BREEP-BREEP! BREEP-BREEP! My phone rings loudly and I look at the name on the screen. Oh please no. Peter. What the heck does he want? I answer it reluctantly and only because the guy next to me was looking annoyed. "What do you want Peter?" I exclaim irritated.

"Hello, sweetie. Now here's something I like, you, me, Leon's Bistro, nine o'clock. What do you think", he says.

"Right, mate. Let me drill something into your thick skull, because apparently you don't get what I'm saying", I start. "I am not your girlfriend anymore, so go away and stop ringing me".

"Ah, that's where you are wrong. You took me back. Or was that just in my dreams..." he replies creepily. I promptly put the phone down and shudder. Great. Just what I need.

He then rings me another four times before giving up. By this time the two men next to me and the four rows in front are extremely annoyed with me. I think it's time to shut up. Quickly I put my phone on silent and slump in my chair. I feel like a naughty child in a classroom. Five hours. Time for a nap. I slide even further into my chair and fall asleep.

I'm awoken by the man next to me rolling over/almost killing me. What time is it? I push him back onto his seat and check my watch. 12:30am. Wow, the only time I've ever been up this late is if I needed the loo. Oh my Lord, I sound like I'm sixty-three. I am blinded by the light of my phone and squint. Turn the brightness down, turn the brightness down! 34 missed calls. Well, it's a good job I switched the mute on, I think the man next door would flatten me if I didn't.

Let's see shall we. 33 off Peter, 1 off Dad. Well, I know who I'm going to ring first. Though maybe not here. I head off to the back room and ring Dad.

"Hi Dad", I whisper.

"Kelly, why are you whispering? Have you nicked something from duty-free again?" he giggles.

"No, and I didn't nick that bottle of wine. The woman at the till said it was free", I answer.

"She said there was a fee for using the debit card machine to which you replied 'Great I'll get three more' and then promptly ran through the till, followed by a security guard" he explains and the memory runs back through my head. I'm still sure she said it was free, I thought she was being nice!

"Oh whatever. I just wondered why you called", I murmur.

"Um, Mum's out of hospital, my company is still slowly going down, Scruff's had to have five stitches".

"Hang on, what did you mean your company's going down?" I yell, maybe slightly too loudly.

"Our rivals have info on us and they're using it to slowly take us down. I don't know where they've got it from, but I think it's from the inside", he says. "Someone in my company is trying to tear me apart". I'm about to answer him, but the plane rocks violently and the air hostess gestures for me to sit down.

"Sorry Dad, I have to go. The plane's experiencing some turbulence. So, um, call you soon", I put the phone down and rush back to my seat. Clicking my seatbelt in, I sigh and collapse back. The plane shakes, waking most people up.

"Hello, this is Captain James Lewis, your pilot. We are experiencing some turbulence, so we have to stop at the nearest airport: Cardiff. Sorry for any inconvenience caused", says the pilot through the speakers. Everyone moans loudly and the air hostesses chatter in the back room. Oh, great, now what do I do? Why is my life falling apart?

Right, so instead of going to a place I don't know, I'm being dumped in a place I don't know. Hold the phone, didn't that cute doctor say he lived in Wales. I rustle in my pocket and pull out the slip of paper. Yeah, Glyntafon. It sounds like it'll be just like Cardiff, an urban City with lots of shops. I mean that's just like Paris, just without the Eiffel Tower and all the French people. I just need to find out where "Glyntafon" actually is.

The man next door hauls himself out of the row, nearly taking me with him and hurries off to the end of the plane. Yes, space! Might as well make the most of it. I put my legs across the row and lie back on the arm rest. Finally, some comfort in this flight. However, my luxury is short-lived, as the man comes trundling back as quick as he went. I look to see two beady eyes and a bald head looking back at me.

"Get out of my seat", he says bluntly. I turn back into my seat and he pushes past me. Sharply the plane turns and I go flying into the man. He's wearing a shirt and tie with his name on: Duke Arnoldson. Wait a minute, wasn't Peter's surname Arnoldson?

"Excuse me, sorry for the random question, but are you related to a person called Peter Arnoldson? It's just I saw your name on your tie and wondered". He looks puzzled at me.

"Oh, Petey? Yeah, he's my cousin. In fact he's the reason I'm on this stupid flight", he grumbles.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Oh, he sent me on here to spy on some girl that broke up with him. He's been obsessing over her for ages now. In fact he's sent five hundred red roses to her parents' house hoping she'll talk to him", he laughs. Oh, poor Daddy. He hates red roses. And now he probably can't get out the door because my ex-boyfriend has put the contents of the local florist on our porch. This has got to stop.

"I'm that girl", I say candidly. He turns to look at me with a surprised look on his face.

"You're the girl? Well, um, this is slightly awkward", he drifts off. I stay silent and he just stares out the window. "So what's the deal with you and Peter? How'd it happen?" he asks, breaking the silence. I think about how I met Peter, about five years ago in high school. He was the handsome captain of the basketball team and I was the stylish prep. It was a match made in Heaven. Well, we were just kids. Then things got complicated and he cheated and all. You know the rest. It felt like it was me and him against the world, but I guess some things are just not meant to be.

"He cheated on me with another girl", I murmur.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry", he says sympathetically. How is he related to Peter? He's nothing like him or his family for that matter. When I first met Peter's parents they made me feel common. And this is coming from the girl who has the second largest company in her inheritance. His mother, an entrepreneur, thought herself to be superior and was very stiff upper-lipped. Well actually, all of her was stiff as a matter of fact. His father, an ex-RAF pilot, was scared of her. Well, if I was him, I'd be scared too. Right, let's end this train of thought; it's taking me to stations I don't want to go to. Great, now I'm getting metaphorical.

"Hello, this is your pilot speaking. We are approaching Cardiff Airport. I hope you enjoy your time in Wales", the pilot announces through the speaker. The plane bounces along the runway and the wheels screech. Okay then, Cardiff here we come.