Page 3 of Valentine's Rebellion

“Canada, yes. But not the UK.” He points to the floor to ceiling window. Snowflakes gently glide through the air but there is barely a dusting on the ground.

“You’re telling me this tiny amount of snow is enough to cancel our flight?” I hear myself reply in my business voice. It is harsher and colder than how I would talk to Lizzie or my family.

“Sir, your flight is not for an hour and a half. We are expecting heavy snowfall within the next twenty minutes which means we have to increase the time between flights taking off, and consequently are cancelling flights to less popular destinations.”

Lizzie slumps against her suitcase, disappointment written all over her face.

“Can you book us on another flight to Canada and we take an internal flight from there?” I ask and try to be patient because it is not this man’s fault.

“Sorry, Sir, the earliest I can get you on a flight anywhere near your destination is… tomorrow afternoon,” he announces.

“Fuck,” Lizzie hisses and walks a few steps away.

“Okay, well, we don’t really have another option,” I snap.It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.“But we both live too far away from the airport to make it home and back here tomorrow, especially if there is snow. You have to give us compensation and a hotel room.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. Although he knows I’m right, he hesitates for a moment before tapping away on his keyboard. After a few minutes he offers me an insane amount of air miles and some food vouchers.

“Most of our contracted hotels are full…” He looks at me uncertain and when I raise an eyebrow, he turns his attention back to his computer. “I can get you in a B&B we have under contract.”

“Okay, how do we get there?” I ask sternly.

“Here’s some taxi vouchers. The B&B is just five minutes by taxi,” he reassures me and I can see in his face that he would do anything for me to leave. I do feel a little sorry for him but I also know it’s his job to find us somewhere to stay.

“Thank you.” I grab the vouchers and our new plane tickets before joining Lizzie who is sitting on a bench.

“Did you get a refund?” she asks as I take a seat next to her.

“No, a room in a B&B for tonight and a new flight for tomorrow.” I hold up the plane tickets.

“You still want to go? It’s a long way and we will have lost more than a day by the time we get there.”

“Who cares? We’ll make the most of it.” I give her a big grin.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she replies with a little more enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! Let’s go to…” I look at the small card with the B&B name scribbled on it. “… the Venus Garden Inn.”

Lizzie snorts. “That sounds like a brothel. A simple Travelodge wasn’t an option?”

“He said everything else is booked,” I shrug and grab hold of her suitcase.

“Don’t, I can—”

“I know you can, but I can too. Take my small bag and I’ll drag your books and Henry,” I chuckle.

“You know me too well.” She points at me before stalking off towards the taxi rank offering me a nice view of her might fine arse.

* * *

The driver stops abruptly outside a quirky looking building. At first, it doesn’t seem very different from the remaining Georgian houses in the street, but on closer inspection I notice a few odd things, like that there are hearts everywhere. The black metal fence has twists and turns that end in heart shapes. There is a garden bench next to the front door and it has a wooden frame above it in the shape of a heart.

Lizzie frowns. So much for escaping the lovey-dovey season, but I know better to say that out loud. The taxi driver dumps our bags on the pavement. The snow is coming down heavily now and he is keen to get home, as he told us a few times on the short drive. We don’t see snow very often down here in the south of England, and so the smallest flurry can cause insane traffic issues you can’t even imagine.

I hold out a fifty-pound note. He stares at it and shakes his head, but I insist.

“I really appreciate you bringing us here,” I tell him and wait for him to take the money. He lifts his cap in a bit of an awkward way, probably realising how rude he'd been. He's aware that if he turns all super-friendly now he appears as a bit greedy, but you can tell he's thankful all the same.

“You better get home,” I give him a smile when he finally takes the fifty and stuffs it unceremoniously into his pocket.

“How can you be an ice-cold businessman one minute and then do something so nice like that?” Lizzie whispers as we walk down the short path to the front door.

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