Page 154 of Forever, Maybe
Stuffed. Daniel, Nell Murray’s husband’s, business. Were those sandwiches better, he wondered, than the ones Chrissie had made him this morning, home-made bread, a tiny bit of chilli added to the avocado because she knew he liked hot stuff...?
Family loyalty persuaded him they couldn’t possibly be.
“Where ye stayin’?” his neighbour asked, and he gestured vaguely to the ground coming towards them.
“City centre.”
Nell had offered to put Mikey up, but he’d turned her down, uncomfortable with the idea of being so close for forty-eight hours. She hadn’t quibbled, suggesting hotels and B&Bs in the city centre and near her Pollokshields home. When she offered to pay, he refused again, but agreed that she could buy him lunch, and maybe dinner if by that time they hadn’t run out of things to say to each other.
The flight, which hadn’t been full, emptied out quickly. The stag party lads thanked the crew, hands on their hearts, and declarations they’d met the best, most helpful, most beautiful flight attendants in the entire world.
With no hold luggage to wait for, Mikey dawdled through the corridors, heading for the arrival door, his heart thudding against his ribs. His phone beeped and he checked the screen.
Hey, you. I know it’s none of my business anymore, but I wanted to wish you good luck for today. Jaden x.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket without replying.
Oh heck, why was he hungry again? Nerves were meant to kill your appetite, and yet here he was, stomach grumbling like someone had forgotten to let it know his throat had been slit. He let everyone else stream around him, as he rummaged around in his gag, searching for Chrissie’s sandwiches.
His hand landed on a crinkly package. He withdrew it, unwrapped it. Ate it like a man who’d just spent
An arrival hall was a funny thing, unique to airports where people were funnelled on and off planes in strict regimentation. Perhaps he should have travelled to Glasgow by train. That way, when he arrived in the station, he could have hung back, using the surveillance techniques he’d picked up on the force to scan the crowds for Nell, so that he spotted her first.
He tried anyway, letting the stag party—also sans hold luggage—to surge in front of him, the leader of the group pointing towards the exit and shouting about taxis.
Ah.
There she was, eyes scanning the arrivals, lighting on first one face, then another, dismissing them and then finally finding him, a beam stretching across her face from one ear to the other.
Gold Almighty, she was so young. His feet glued him to the ground, instinct as always holding him back.
She stepped forward.
People pushed around him, his body wobbled.
He did, too.
THE END
