Page 35 of Birds of a Feather

We rounded the corner as a woman dropped her backpack and leapt into the arms of a man who’d pushed through the crowd to get to her. An older woman, who had been using a walking stick, held it in one of her outstretched arms as she loped towards three waiting children holding a sign with ‘Welcome Nanna’ written in glitter and sequins. Two men who looked like twins embraced each other exuberantly. It was all very touching, but, annoyingly, they were all blocking the exit.

‘Can you see anyone holding a sign?’ I asked, craning my neck.

Gran grabbed my arm and pointed to a guy who stood a full head taller than everyone around him.

He was searching the crowd expectantly while clutching two foil helium balloons that were bobbing energetically above his head. One – a giant koala – had ‘Beth’ written in sharpie across its stomach, and the other – an enormous kangaroo in profile – had ‘Elise’ tracking up its spine. I hated kitsch, and this was next level.

‘I guess that’s him, then,’ Gran said, waving as she made a beeline towards him.

‘Nicholas?’ Gran asked; the only uncertainty being his name.

‘Nick, please. Nick Aitkens.’

Gran held out her right hand to shake. He smiled broadly as he extended his own right hand, which was clutching the balloon strings, towards Gran. Realising that shaking hers would mean letting go of the balloons, he offered up his pinky finger instead, which she shook with good humour.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Simpson,’ he offered earnestly.

‘Please, call me Elise,’ Gran replied.

I noted that Gran didn’t correct her surname; Simpson had been her maiden name.

‘Elise,’ he said with a satisfied nod. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Elise. Aunt Gerry has been really looking forward to seeing you.’

He turned to me and shot me a grin that disarmed me. The lines that gathered around his eyes gave a genuine warmth to his face, and one of his front teeth overlapped the other just enough to give his smile character.

‘You must be Beth. Welcome to London.’

He spared me the awkward handshake, but lurched clumsily towards me to take the carry-on bags I was holding. He grabbed the first in his empty hand.

‘Let me help you with—’

As he tried to take the other bag from me, one of the balloon strings slipped from his grasp and Beth the Koala floated towards the soaring airport roof.

Nick’s shoulders drooped as he tracked the ascent with his eyes.

‘Well, that’s that then,’ he said, with what seemed like genuine devastation. ‘He was on borrowed time, really. The guards at the security checkpoint were not happy about having him go through the x-ray machine. It was hard enough convincing them to forgo the internal cavity search.’

He shook his head solemnly. I suspected he was joking, but wondered: could his humour really be that dry?

‘Oh, darling,’ Gran said compassionately, as he tied the kangaroo string onto the handle of the bag. ‘Thank you for bringing them anyway.’

She looked to me with slightly bugged eyes, as if encouraging me to second the sentiment. There was no chance; I wouldn’t be entertaining any of this until I had completed my initial assessment of him. I hadn’t decided whether he had a quirky sense of humour or was a complete oddball.

‘Anyway,’ he interrupted abruptly. ‘Onwards and upwards – literally in his case.’

He looked to the koala, which had nestled into a cavity in the ceiling, again.

‘I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, so let’s get you to your hotel.’

Gran had told me that Gerry had suggested we stay with her, but she had insisted on getting a hotel room. Understandably, she didn’t want there to be any obligation or awkwardness if things didn’t go well between them.

Nick’s car was an electric vehicle. This was redeeming; even if he was an oddball, at least he didn’t drive around the city in a fuel-guzzling four-wheel drive

As he drove, I surreptitiously sneaked a look at him. Nick seemed like the type of quintessential English gentleman who would appear as a love interest in a period piece such as Downton Abbey or Pride and Prejudice. His skin was fair, and his eyes were a light blue, which, from what Gran had told me about Gerry’s, was a family trait. He had fine features, but a strong jaw, and – it had to be said again – a very nice smile. Add to that his height and slim but muscled physique, and he was an attractive package.

While en route, Nick fired questions at us about how often we’d been to London and our plans for our stay. Mercifully, Gran assumed the lion’s share of small talk; it had never been my forte. He also asked weirdly specific questions about the climate at home.

‘What do you do?’ I asked from the back seat after he asked about whether we’d observed an increase in coastal inundation on the west coast.

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