though I’d been expecting Molly, I jumped out of my skin. ‘Ha, funny, just talking to myself, as you do,’ I answered, smiling. ‘In fact, I’m just looking through Grace’s uploads from last night,’ I said, scrolling back to the first photograph.
Molly pointed at the screen and sat down next to me. ‘I love Grace’s dress. Very quintessentially English.’
‘She knows how to dress.’
‘And who’s that?’ Molly’s eyes were wide, her finger pointing at exactly the same photograph that had caught my eye.
‘Sam Reid, according to Facebook.’
I looked closer at the photo again. He was standing next to Grace with his arm draped around her shoulder wearing a faded vintage T-shirt and Levi jeans.
‘I wouldn’t mind ruffling my face against that chest,’ Molly rolled her eyes.
‘Molly! You’re taken,’ I said, slightly miffed, even though I knew she was joking and Sam Reid lived on the opposite side of the world, and who knew whether he was in a relationship or not?
‘That T-shirt is fitting snuggly around … well, actually, every muscular part, and those eyes, oh and that shaggy, mousy hair …’ She tilted her head and dreamily put her hand on her heart.
‘Just for you, Molly. Stalk all you like while I nip to the restroom.’ I stood up and stepped over my packed case before glancing at my watch. ‘Time’s ticking, the taxi will be picking me up in fifteen minutes,’ I said, with mixed feelings, sad I’d be leaving Molly behind, but with a realisation that life wasn’t offering me any new challenges of late. In just a few hours I would be flying halfway across the world and who knew what my adventure might entail? I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of it.
‘I know, I don’t want to think about it, but this Sam Reid is going to help us pass the time before you fly off back to the land of farmyards and people who speak like the Queen,’ she attempted an English accent before tugging the laptop towards her and tipping her head towards the screen.
‘They don’t all have accents like the Queen, you know,’ I insisted with a smile, disappearing inside the bathroom.
‘Works on the same production as Grace,’ she shouted after me, ‘according to his Facebook profile, but I can’t see whether he’s single or not. There’s no relationship status.’
‘Not everyone lives their life through Facebook, you know.’ I grinned at my own reflection in the mirror, waiting for Molly’s outburst.
‘Mmm, is that a dig at me?’ she exclaimed huffily, knowing full well she checked in at every bar, and documented her life like it was a Reality TV show.
‘If the cap fits.’
‘You have some very funny sayings, however … oh no!’ she suddenly exclaimed the second I walked back in the room.
‘What have you done?’ I asked, noticing the mischievous glint in her eye.
She tried to arrange her face into an innocent expression. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I accidently pressed the friend request button when I was scrolling through his profile.’
‘Oh God! You haven’t?’ My eyes fell towards the screen.
Molly scrunched up her face and bit down on her lip.
‘He’ll have no clue who I am!’ I said in mock indignation but secretly curious to see if he noticed I was friends with Grace and accepted the request. I closed the lid on the laptop and stowed it away in my bag.
‘Something tells me it’s going to be an interesting trip back to little old England! I’ll be watching your every move, Alice Parker, whilst I’m missing you like hell!’
I swiped her arm playfully. ‘By the time I get to England you’ll find yourself blocked from all my social media!’
‘Such a spoilsport,’ she laughed, rolling her eyes. ‘Sometimes the English are so uptight!’
Taking a deep breath, I paid the taxi driver and climbed out of the cab. I’d arrived at Newark airport wheeling my case behind me with my rucksack slung over my shoulder. The blast of air conditioning inside the terminal building was a welcome relief after the blistering heat outside, but a twinge of sadness hit me as I made my way through the revolving glass doors.
In the pit of my stomach there was an unsettling feeling regarding Mum. I’d looked over my shoulder as I’d climbed into the taxi, hoping to see her, but she wasn’t anywhere to been seen. I’d texted her to let her know I’d left for the airport and slight relief flooded through me when she replied, telling me to have a safe journey and that she loved me.
Shoving my sunglasses high on my head, I glanced at my watch. I’d given myself loads of time and once I’d checked in I’d have enough time to relax and settle my nerves.
Thankfully, according to the departure times on the plasma screen, the flight to Manchester was on time. I’d only travelled once before on a plane and that was when we’d arrived in America, but I’d always kept my passport up to date. Deep down I knew I’d return one day.
Inside the terminal building the white floor tiles gleamed as people hurried over them, pulling suitcases, checking watches and tapping on mobile phones. Everywhere people seemed in a state of mad panic. There were two glass elevators leading to the upper levels and kiosks dotted about manned by harassed-looking cashiers. I chewed on my lip and looked around in bewilderment, everywhere was so busy. My stomach was churning with nerves, I’d no idea where to go or what to do.
‘You okay?’ I must have had a mortified look on my face when I heard a voice and looked up to see a friendly airport official smiling back at me.
‘I’m not sure. I’ve no idea where I’m going.’ My ticket and passport were tightly clutched in my hand like my life depended on them.
‘It’s not as difficult as it looks,’ he said. ‘Let me help you.’ He nodded his head, ‘You can check in at the machines over there.’
I looked over to where he was pointing. There was a red-faced businessman banging one of the machines and a mother at the next one cradling a crying baby whilst looking in confusion at the screen.
Oh God.
‘Here, I’ll help,’ he said kindly, leading me towards the machines. ‘They don’t bite, and are quite straightforward.’
None of this seemed straightforward to me. Public transport didn’t bother me, I used the subway on a daily basis, hailed taxis and pounded the sidewalks of New York, but this looked like another planet, everything seemed so alien.
‘Thank you, Lewis, you’re so kind,’ I said, glancing at the shiny name badge attached to his jacket, relieved he’d offered to help.
We waited our turn and I watched him as he scanned my passport into the machine. And as if by magic it came up with my name and my flight number. He asked
