‘London Heathrow. Cancelled.’
But before he knew it, tears were filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Fin dropped to his knees and began to shake with frustration. ‘No. No.No!’ he sobbed, crudely wiping his face with his hands.
‘Come now,’ a kind voice cooed above him. ‘Take this.’
Fin looked up and through his blurred vision could see an older lady smiling at him, a tissue in her outstretched hand. On her hip sat a disgruntled baby, its dark curls even wilder than Fin’s sun-bleached mop of hair.
‘Take it.’ She waggled the paper at him. ‘It’s dirty in these places.’
Fin accepted the tissue gratefully and wiped his face. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He stood slowly and dusted himself down. She was right; the floor was filthy.
‘Psht.’ She shooed his apology away and began bouncing the round baby up and down. ‘Are you OK?’
The question sent a ripple of sadness through him once more. ‘I just really need to get home.’
‘You have an emergency?’ She arched her eyebrows and stopped jiggling her babbling child. Her dark brown eyes fixed him with a serious look, and Fin could feel the knot of tension intensifying its grasp on his throat.
‘Kind of.’
‘Family emergency?’
Fin closed his eyes and thought of Eleanor’s dad. The man who had been more present in his childhood than his own father, always ready and willing to offer words of wisdom or a place to be when he had nowhere else to go. A man that was adamantly in his corner, no matter how troublesome Fin had been.
‘Yeah.’ The tears started again. ‘Someone’s died and I need to be home for the funeral.’
The lady nodded brusquely and then turned to an older boy behind her. He was sitting, headphones on, plugged into his Walkman and eyes glued to his comic book. She unceremoniously pulled out one of the earpieces and handed over the baby, muttering firm instructions that Fin couldn’t quite make out. Before he had a chance to ask any questions, the lady had grabbed his hand and was pulling him out of the queue.
‘No!’ he protested, grabbing his bag just in time. ‘Please, what are you doing?’
‘Trust me,’ she stated, dragging him through the mass of confused-looking people towards the front of the line. Fin kept his head down, his cheeks blushing brightly at the scene the pair were making, but every time someone stopped to question them, his fierce protector would passionately put them in their place with words Fin had no way of understanding. Before he knew it, he was thrust in front of a young, meticulously made-up woman behind the check-in desk.
‘Can I help?’ she asked, eyeing the odd-looking pair with equal parts confusion and suspicion.
‘I need to get to London. I have to …’ Fin shook his head, hot tears pricking his eyes. ‘I have to get home.’
‘OK, sir. Well, the flight from Mumbai direct to London has just been cancelled …’ She tapped her long painted nails on the keyboard in front of her.
Fin let out a groan. His impassioned friend began another one of her emboldened rants, whilst all Fin could do was stand there meekly and uselessly.
‘OK, OK.’ The young lady nodded, continuing her tapping. ‘Right. It’s going to be tight, but if you run, I’m pretty sure I can get you on an internal flight to Delhi and then from there you’ll go to London.’
Fin’s heart rose from the pit of his stomach.
‘There’s a bit of a wait time at Delhi, but I think it’s your best option right now. Shall I go ahead and book?’
Fin didn’t have to think – not about the already severely overdrawn number in his bank account, not about the wasted ticket he was throwing away, and not even about how late he was going to be arriving home. All he needed was to keep moving.
‘Yes, please. Do whatever you need to do,’ he urged.
‘You’ll be fine now.’ His friend turned to him, a wide smile on her face.
‘Thank you.’ Fin could feel the tears returning, but this time they were not so heavy, they were almost joyful.
She placed a warm hand on his cheek and fixed him once more with her dark coffee eyes. ‘Get home to your family safe.’
‘I will. I promise.’
*
