The Great Kidnap Caper
I wish blokes would chase after me and bawl their eyes out because they can’t catch me! Joanna read her wish out loud, holding up the slip of paper before flicking her lighter. She let the flame lick the edge, then knocked the ashy remains into her Prosecco and drained her glass, all to the giggles of her friends.
The Christmas tree flirted in response, blinking its fairy lights, then glowing defiantly brighter. The music thumped, glasses clinked, and the faces around her blurred into one enormous festive fireworks display. There mustve been a little gold tinsel or something floating down from the treeor maybe she just imagined that part…
Muuuum Mum, wake up!
Joanna forced one eyelid open. Above her peer an entire five-a-side football squad.
Who are you lot? Do I know you, children?
The kids, delighted with themselves, introduced themselves in turn, cocking their heads at precisely the same cheeky angle:
Mum, come on, its me, Danielnine, Jamesseven, Edwardfive, Harrythree!
The full team, every position covered, all wearing that mischievous grin and oozing determination. This was not quite the stampede of men shed wished for at midnight.
And wheres your managerugh, I mean, wheres your dad? her voice croaked. Fetch Mum some water, will you
No sooner had she closed her eyes than Mum!theyre back again. This time, two glasses of water appeared in each hand, alongside a clementine and a mug of pickle juice. Clearly her eldest already knew the correct resurrection protocol post-festivities. They grow up so fast.
Mum, you promised the two smallest whined, guilt-tripping like true professionals.
Joanna made a valiant effort to recollect what exactly shed promised and how on earth shed ended up here.
A film?
No!
McDonalds?
Nope!
Hamleys?
Oh, come on, Mum! Dont pretend! Were all packed, youre the only one loafing about!
And where exactly are we jetting off to? she surrendered.
Darling, come on, time to get up, a mans voice float in. A tall, dark-haired man entered: hazel eyes glinting with those golden flecks reserved either for saints or rotters. Crikey, what a looker.
Were all ready. Ive packed the car. Quick pit stop at Tesco and then were off!
Joanna battled hard to remember who this dreamboat was and why the pitter-patter of small feet were all calling her ‘Mum’. Her mind: resoundingly empty. Absolutely nothing.
Mum, dont forget our trunks! Yours too! one of the little ones called. Swimming trunks? Now theres a swimming pool somewhere in the mix too? Just what sort of miraculous life is thisand why couldnt she remember a single moment of it?
Joanna looked around. With every blink, it grew clearer: she recognised… nothing. Not the flat, not the sofa, not even the thick curtains with their odd design. Utterly foreign, except for one little patcha festive red poinsettia in a pot, its velvet petals vivid as anything. The white pot, dotted with little pearl beads, rang a faint bell, but…
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to unravel yesterday’s hazy string. Shed been out with her girlfriends; hitting up that Italian, playing Secret Santa, just like uni days. Except now it was designer handbags, updos, and never enough time.
The girls glowed with all the giddy joy of brief escapehusbands, kids, school runs, Tupperwarelike schoolgirls bunking off their last lesson. Only Joanna, sole singleton, was unflappablea free agent, beholden to no one, needing no ones permission.
The Last Bachelorette! the girls had teased, winking and refilling her glass.
Shed given her friend a gift setface cream laced with black caviar and gold threads. They howled with laughter over the poshness: You could spread it on toast, serve it with the bubbly! they joked, photographing the box from all sides like it belonged in the Tate.
In return, Joanna received that Christmassy poinsettia (white pearly pot and all) and a rare bottle of Prosecco from a friends escapade to a French châteauone of those bottles you only whisper about and pop on lifes big occasions.
Shed read out a paper sliptoast or wish, who knowsand then well, nothing. The rest: blank. Classic story: went out, fell asleep, woke upconfused.
Joanna eyed herself in the mirror. Same young(ish) woman, same glam eye makeup as New Year’s Eve. But whose brood were these? She couldnt recall giving birth, let alone wedding that dazzling husband. Knew all the kids’ names, but as for his… total void. Something was fishy indeed.
She lurched out into the hall. Suitcases everywheresleek black and cream wheelies with high-end badges. Next to them, three miniature rucksacks: evidence pointed to something more ambitious than a picnic. Were they going on a flipping adventure?
Right on cue, husband reappeared. Expertly scooping up the luggage, he ushered her to the door as if it was the hundredth time hed orchestrated this operation.
Well be late, he said, annoyingly calm.
Absentmindedly, Joanna glanced at her handand froze. No wedding ring. Not on her finger, not on his. Another twist in this tangled sitcom.
One by one, the kids climbed into a shiny, mammoth people carrier. Bags chucked in, seatbelts clicked, and Mr Handsome did the honours behind the wheel. Joanna inhaled, buckled up, and tried not to look terrified.
He passed her a takeaway coffeemilky, just how she absolutely loathed it. That stung more than anything.
Lets roll! he chirped, winking at the kids. As they pulled away from the curb, Joannas apprehension grew.
The kids at the back chuntered and bickered in low voices. Her stunning husband drove with cool confidence, sneaking her glances that suggested they shared a delicious secret. Or at least he didshe hadnt a clue.
Joanna peered at the road, feeling much like Winnie the Poohs Eeyore lost in the fog. Everything looked right: family, car, escape. But it all felt so off.
They sailed out onto the motorway, London dropping behind with every mile. By now she was convinced of one thing: this was not her family. He’d kidnapped them! Ormore likelythey’d kidnapped her!
And yet, she inexplicably knew all the kids names. Joannas thoughts whirled and, in the end, she decided: unfamiliar man, this is definitely an abduction, and something must be done.
She straightened up, gripped her coffee cup in one hand, and stared out the window, trying to look unfazed while her inner action-heroine flickered to life.
Half an hour in, the kids revolted in harmony:
Dad, loo!
Im thirsty!
Got any snacks?
The van veered gracefully into a service station. They tumbled out, surging towards the building.
This is it, Joanna thought. The perfect moment! Her heart was thundering loud enough to drown out the A40. While the rest were distracted, Joanna ninja-stealthed back to the car. Quick! Climb inrun for it! She swung into the front seat
No keys.
There you are! We were looking everywhere, a calm voice drifted through the open window, making her yelp.
Well, since were all here, lets carry on! he said cheerfully. Ill take the wheel, you just relax. And off they went again, Joanna now plotting how to avoid international cat burglary charges.
An hour later, the airport loomedglass, steel, endless bustle. They abandoned the van in a packed car park and poured into the terminal.
Joannas nerves were shot. She absolutely refused to be whisked away! She was not going to end up a footnote in a true crime documentary. She began to fall further and further behind this overly rehearsed family. Then, with a burst of adrenaline
This is a kidnapping! HELP! she shrieked, launching herself at a security guard.
The guard sprang into action. Joanna was bursting with prideand terroras she found herself face down, handcuffed, surrounded by officials wielding radios and suspicious scowls.
Wait! Hang on, let me explain! called out Handsome Stranger, the supposed villain.
Its just a New Years joke! A prank! Were unarmed! Shes not being abducted!
Joanna heard his voice as though she was underwater. Then, just like in EastEnders, there they wereher friends. Peeking around an advertising hoarding, looking delighted, flustered and a little terrified.
Mum! the kids yelled, swarming around one of her friendsdefinitely not herwhile the others scrambled to explain the situation to the guards, all the while cackling and apologising.
Joanna was freed from the cuffs. The world finally stopped spinning. She stood there in Heathrow, hair wild, heart racing, and was hit by the realisation: she hadnt been kidnapped.
Shed been stitched up!
Once the shock and the tinnitus subsided, conversations, laughter and explanations flew thick and fast.
It was all an elaborate set-up. Collective. Costly. A prank with criminal overtones.
It turned out her friends had wanted to set Joanna up with an excellent chapthe one whod fancied her for ages but, knowing her too well, never dared make a move. Her default response to matchmaking had always been, Thanks, but no thanksIm fine on my own.
So the girls, ever resourceful, opted for the full immersive family experience. Look, heres domestic bliss: morning madness, caffeinated chaos, kids in formation, dazzling man at the helma proper family man, with those very nice eyes. Not a word out of place.
We just wanted you to stop overthinking! they said, a touch sheepish, and actually feel what itd be like. In your soul, not your head.
Joanna realised she couldnt muster up any actual anger. Female logic may hate direct confrontation, but rarely argues with results.
Bit dodgy? Absolutely. Nearly gave her a heart attack? Sure. But the experiment wasthorough. Sometimes all you need to work out whether a man is right for you is one morning, three borrowed kids, and a cup of coffee delivered by your own personal abductor.
And there he was: her potential Mr Right, grinning with that irresistible, slightly sly smilePuss-In-Boots come to lifehazel eyes positively alight. The children turned out to be his delighted nephews, in on the caper with their favourite uncle.
Suddenly, the girls bustled. Quick! Youll miss your flight! Registration deskrun!
So, another kidnapping, then? Joanna wondered. And where on earth were they trying to take her? The Med? Swimming with fishes? Munching mango?
Shall we start again? said the not-quite-stranger, extending his hand. Im William. Would you do me the honour of letting me whisk you away?
Joanna glanced at her friendsall holding their breath, anxious. Then at the suitcases, then back into those sparkling hazel-gold eyes.
What, really, was stopping her?
Lets go! she beamed, feeling absurdly hopefulknowing this kidnapping had been the most delightful misadventure.
And only if the children stay home she added quietly.
Her friends burst out laughing; Williams grin widened; and the airport glow turned suddenly, wonderfully, into the start of something warm, odd, and possibly life-changing.
Sometimes, life doesnt steal us away.
It just sweeps us upirresistibly, and exactly where we needed to be.
