Page 96 of Only for Christmas

Sarah pulled away. ‘Are you mad? I can’t go on that thing. And what about Jafrina? How will she get home?’

Jafrina dug out her phone. ‘I’ll take the Uber; you take the scooter.’

Sarah couldn’t think straight. ‘I should really think this through – this is a big decision.’

Georgia shoved her feet into her boots. ‘You don’t have time, woman. HE’S LEAVING NOW!’

‘Right, yes. Okay.’ Sarah ran towards her bedroom, but skidded to a halt. ‘And you’re absolutely certain I’m in love with him?’

‘YES!’ Georgia threw a cushion at her.

‘Oh, crikey, I’m really doing this, aren’t I?’ Sarah ran into the bedroom to fetch her trainers.

When she returned, Jafrina was scrolling through her phone. ‘It’s Terminal Five you need.’

Sarah grabbed her flat keys. ‘Terminal Five. Okay, got it.’

They bundled her out of the flat and down the stairs.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Jafrina said when they reached the street. ‘This is just what Julia Roberts would do. Now go get him!’

If anyone had told Sarah that morning she’d be perched on the back of a noisy Lambretta, hurtling down the A4, with her eyes streaming, her hair wrapped around her neck and nearly strangling her, and clinging hold of Georgia’s midriff for dear life, she’d have called them crazy. Although, no more crazy than realising she was in love with Lucas Moore. How had she been so clueless?

It had to be love, right? Why else would she be enduring thirty minutes of riding down a busy main road with cars splashing up dirty rainwater, lorries rocking them off balance each time they whizzed by, and seeing her life flash before her several times. At this rate, she’d never make it there alive; she’d be squashed under an artic lorry before getting the opportunity to tell Lucas she loved him. Now that she’d realised how she felt, she couldn’t snuff it before telling him. How unfair would that be?

Jafrina might have compared this mad dash in pursuit of love as a scene from a romcom, but she doubted Julia Roberts ever had to contend with temporary traffic lights, a climate change protestor glued to the tarmac or having to circle a roundabout three times because of conflicting road signs. Hollywood had clearly never visited the London Borough of Hillingdon.

The final obstacle was discovering the slip road leading up to the drop-off zone was so steep the scooter lost speed and they were in danger of rolling backwards like a bizarre snakes and ladders game and ending up back where they’d started. A warning sign announcing charges for drop-offs at the airport was enough to convince them completing the final section on foot would be in both their best interests.

Bringing the scooter to a halt, Georgia gave Sarah a thumbs up as she climbed off the bike. ‘Good luck!’ she shouted, struggling to be heard above the deafening shudder of planes taking off above them.

Sarah handed Georgia her crash helmet. ‘Thanks for the ride!’

Ignoring the sight of Georgia swerving into the traffic and nearly colliding with an ambulance, Sarah ran up the slope towards the terminal. A run that started out spritely, but gradually slowed to a shuffle as fatigue kicked in, and ending in a walk as the slope increased and her lack of sleep drained her remaining stamina.

By the time she’d reached the entrance, she was soaked through from the rain and boiling hot. If this was a romcom then she’d look like Andie MacDowell in Four Weddings and a Funeral when she declares her love for Hugh Grant in the pouring rain. Instead, Sarah suspected she looked more like a survivor from the Titanic, shipwrecked and clinging hold of a lifeboat.

Terminal Five was heaving with people. Queues of travellers were snaking their way towards the endless rows of check-in desks. Where to even start?

Shrugging off her jacket and tying it around her middle, she looked up at the flight board, checking for flights to Minneapolis, and trying to remember what Lucas had said about timings.

There was an American Airlines flight leaving at 1:25 p.m. That had to be it.

Sarah raced towards the check-in desks, hopping over abandoned suitcases and swerving around passengers like an Olympic downhill skier. She was a woman on a mission.

There were two long queues for the flight and Sarah scanned both of them, running up and down the lines in search of Lucas, and attracting odd looks from everyone patiently waiting. Her panic levels increased with each face she glanced at and then discarded. Lucas was nowhere to be found. He must have checked in already.

She was too late. He was gone.

Lacing her hands into her hair, Sarah let out an anguished sob. This was not how things were supposed to conclude. Romcoms had happy endings. They worked out. They weren’t supposed to end in disappointment.

If only she’d got her act together earlier. But until forty-five minutes ago, she’d had no idea whether her friends were right, or whether she was making a monumental mistake. She’d realised too late she loved Lucas. Talk about rotten timing.

Walking over to a bench, she kicked a metal post, annoyed that her stupid brain had taken so long to figure it out. Why couldn’t she have come to this conclusion last night? Or even this morning before he’d left? But no, it was only when she couldn’t have him that she’d realised she really, really wanted him. Talk about dumb.

She slumped onto the bench and dropped her head in her hands.

Above her, a loud ding-dong echoed from the speaker on the wall, alerting the travellers to an announcement.

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