Everyone Packed. Nobody Checked.

“The cake is here,” said Leila.

“The passports are here,” said Ben.

“The luggage is here,” said Marcus.

From the back seat, Sophie asked, “Where’s Aunt June?”

The airport van went very quiet.

There were nine suitcases, three neck pillows, a bag of sandwiches and one carefully protected cake bearing the words HAPPY RETIREMENT, JUNE.

There was no June.

Marcus checked the rear-view mirror, as though she might have become visible at a different angle.

“She was with you.”

“No,” said Leila. “She was with Ben.”

Ben turned around.

“I was with the cake.”

They were twelve minutes from home. They had spent the previous forty-seven minutes congratulating themselves on leaving early.

The holiday had been June’s retirement surprise.

After thirty-two years of remembering everyone else’s appointments, birthdays and misplaced belongings, she was finally going somewhere nobody could ask her to cover a shift.

The family had organized everything.

Leila had the bookings.

Marcus had transport.

Ben had refreshments.

Sophie, aged twelve, had been given “nothing complicated,” which was why she was the only person who had counted the passengers.

At June’s house, departure had unfolded with the precision of a cupboard falling downstairs.

Someone had shouted, “Last bag!”

Someone else had shouted, “Lock the door!”

Marcus had asked, “Everybody ready?”

Seven people had answered for themselves.

Nobody had answered for June.

Leila called her.

June picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, darling.”

“Aunt June. Where are you?”

“In my chair.”

“Which chair?”

“My chair, Leila. We’ve discussed it.”

There was a pause.

“Are you still at home?”

“Yes. I thought the silence was unusually peaceful.”

Leila closed her eyes.

“We’ve left without you.”

“I gathered. Unless the holiday begins with an unusually long walk.”

Marcus was already turning the van around.

“We’re coming back!”

“No need to shout. I haven’t retired from hearing.”

June had gone upstairs for her sunhat.

When she returned, the house was empty.

At first, she assumed everyone was outside arguing about luggage.

Then she noticed the van had disappeared.

She considered calling them immediately.

Then she saw the kettle.

After thirty-two years of being hurried by other people, she decided the emergency could wait until the tea had brewed.

By the time the van returned, she was standing at the gate with her suitcase, her sunhat and a mug.

The family climbed out wearing expressions usually associated with accidentally breaking something expensive.

“We are so sorry,” said Leila.

June looked at the van.

“Did you remember the cake?”

“Yes,” said Ben.

“Excellent. I’d hate to think the important passenger had been inconvenienced.”

They reached the airport with enough time to check in, although nobody used the words “perfectly organized” again.

At security, Marcus counted everyone.

At the gate, Leila counted everyone.

When Ben went to buy coffee, Sophie counted everyone and announced that their numbers had fallen by one.

“He’s getting drinks,” said Marcus.

“That,” said Sophie, “is how it starts.”

June laughed so hard she had to sit down.

For the rest of the journey, every departure began with somebody saying, “June?”

And June replying, “Still here. Despite your best efforts.”

Two days later, she sat beside the water with her hat tipped back and her sandals under the chair.

There were no appointments to remember.

Nobody needed a shift covered.

The family had finally stopped apologizing and started enjoying themselves.

Ben brought out the cake.

One corner had suffered during the turnaround. The icing now read HAPPY RETIREMENT, JUN.

June studied it.

“You’ve left part of me behind again.”

Even Marcus laughed at that.

They took a photograph: June in the middle, everyone crowded around her, the damaged cake held proudly in front.

Before leaving for dinner, Marcus reached for the room key.

Sophie raised a hand.

“People first.”

She counted everyone.

Then she counted them again.

June slipped her arm through Leila’s.

“Lovely holiday,” she said. “Next time, invite me.”