Readers, I’m at the airport.
Its three a.m. on New Year’s Eve. Normally, when travelling, I’d be posting an Insta of my artfully foamed breakfast cappuccino posed quirkily on the cover of my in-flight novel right about now, or I’d be telling you the travel hack or the beauty tip I’ve just tried out, or I’d be raving about the treatment in the first class lounge or the new travel accessory I’ve blagged in return for a review, but, honestly, all I’m doing is pacing by the gate, like a bear in a cage.
I suspect that right this second my Uber guy’s pulling away from the terminal having given me a score of one out of five and warning other drivers I’m a bit shouty, possibly insane, but this was a mercy dash, a sudden, unplanned journey.
I have only the contents of my coat pockets with me: my passport and my credit card (and my Eight Hour Cream – I’m not an animal). My flight’s boarding in twelve minutes. And I’m going to find him.
Niilo Henrik Oskal, if you’re reading this, somehow, out there in the arctic wilderness, I’m coming back to you #ILoveYou
She’s actually lost her mind, I think. But then I find I’m grinning from ear to ear, beaming with pride. My best mate, who loves adventure, is in the air this very second making her way to the man she loves on the adventure of a lifetime. She’s making it happen.Thatis solo travel.Thatis the ultimate risk.
What will he say? Will she even find him? I can just imagine her hotwiring a skidoo and making a death-defying journey across the icy tundra in search of him.
I wish I’d gone with her. To keep her company. Just in case.
I wish I had her guts.
I mean, it’s crazy, isn’t it? Dashing off to see a man who isn’t expecting you and who may or may not be in love with you. A man you can’t stop thinking about.
Somehow I’m out from under the covers and on my feet, and the bedside light is on.
My own suitcase is still on the floor in front of me, I’ve been too lethargic to actually put it away in the loft. I find I’m standing over it, eyeing it warily. Its unzipped lid gapes like a mouth calling to me.
Icouldjust chuck some clean knickers in there. And I’ve still got some euros.
Icould do a Nari.
No! Obviously not. What are you thinking, Sylve? Anyone can see Niilo and Nari are up to their ears in the first flush of love where everything’s new and pristine and exciting. And she probablywilltrack him down and fall into his open arms.
But Stellan and me, we’re choked up with history and misapprehensions and me being, well… me, spoiling things.
Then again.
He did say he loved me, once upon a time. And it’s not like we spent last week playing Scrabble and talking about the weather, is it? We really did still have all our old magic and a sprinkling of something new too, something grown up and more real.
‘Screw it!’ I shout, as I obey my impulse and tip my newly tumble-dried laundry (thanks Mum) from the basket onto the bed, and before I know it, there’s fresh pyjamas and jumpers thrown into the suitcase and I’m running, yes running, to the bathroom for my pink toothbrush, and pulling clothes on.
As I zip up the case, having grabbed my coat, I look at Nari’s blog on my phone again, one last read through to check I’ve got the guts. She and Niilo “shared an incredible adventure together in Lapland”, she’s written. Well, so did Stellan and I. It really was incredible, like nothing that’s ever happened to me before, not since the last time I was with Stellan. And in those intervening years, fifteen whole, long years, I was just waiting for the lightning to strike again, with someone new, someone I trusted, someone I loved, but it never happened; not even with Cole, and I let him put a ring on my finger, when really, I only ever loved Stellan Virtanen.
And at last I’m sure.
I don’t want to be satisfied with just the crumbs. I can’t survive on morsels of memories. I don’t want an austerity diet of bits of half-recollected love.No more crumbs!I want to have the whole Stellan cake! Every rich, sweet layer of it.
I’m texting, my fingers tapping out a staccato on the screen.
Nari, do you think I can buy Saariselkä flights online right now?
What am I doing? She’s in the air. She won’t see it. I’ll phone Mum and Dad, ask them for a lift to the airport, and I’ll just buy any flights I can find online while I’m waiting, slap them on a credit card, even if I have to hop between airports to get to Lapland. I’ll just buy whatever I can. How hard can it be? Nari managed it. Then again, she does have a remarkable talent for getting what she wants, and she does knowliterallyevery travel insider on the planet.
Hold on, I’d better get my flights booked before I ring Mum and Dad, don’t want to startle them in the middle of the night, in case I can’t get anything until tomorrow…
‘Manchester flights, Manchester flights,’ I mumble to myself as I’m searching online. It takes a while, my phone’s being slow, and I find I’m sitting on my suitcase by the door, shoulders slumping, as I read.
Weather warning: All regional airport flights cancelled as further heavy snow forecast
They can’t meanallflights. They always say that, don’t they, as a precaution, but it never comes to that? I bet Heathrow’s still open.
I get up to look out the hall window. Street lights illuminate the white blanket settling over everything, and getting thicker by the minute.
