Olivia
Olivia scanned the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time. A thousand faces looked back at her, but none was holding a sign with her name on it. There were people everywhere, filling each tiny morsel of space with bags and fabrics and noisy children. Olivia knew how to handle busy places; she had lived and worked in London for the best part of seven years. It was a rite of passage to spend your afternoons being pinballed along Oxford Street by the swarms of manic shoppers. But this? This was a whole new level of chaos. Personal space seemed a non-existent concept here, and it did nothing to soothe Olivia’s anxiety.
‘Come on, come on, whereareyou?’ She groaned, wiping her damp hair from her even damper face. The hotel had promised to provide an airport transfer. She had the email confirmation in her hand, and yet here she was, waiting at Arrivals with nobody here to collect her. What was the point in being organized if other people couldn’t do their jobs?
She scanned the printed-out piece of paper once again,checking and rechecking all the details. It was all there, no question about it. So where was her driver?
Exasperated, Olivia took another gulp of water and pulled her sweaty T-shirt away from her skin.
A large family barged past her, their luggage trolley piled so high with suitcases that Olivia was surprised they could even see where they were going. Two of the children stopped dead in their tracks and fixed Olivia with a look of complete and utter bewilderment. One of them, no taller than her knees, began to giggle uncontrollably.
‘Girls, don’t stare at the lady,’ their mother barked, yanking the taller child’s hand and pulling them away.
Olivia felt her already flushed face burn more intensely; she’d never felt more exposed in her entire life.
‘Do you need a taxi, miss?’ a man standing a few metres away shouted at her.
‘No, no, I’m waiting for someone, thank you.’
‘I’ll take you. Where do you want to go?’ He stepped closer to her.
‘No, honestly, I’m fine.’ Olivia felt her voice lift a few octaves.
She needed a moment to think. To catch some air. To make a new plan.
‘Come.’ He went to grab her rucksack, a dead weight lying on the ground.
‘No!’ she shouted, snatching the bag back. ‘I said, I’mfine. Please leave me alone.’
The young man looked startled and held his hands up in apology. ‘Sorry, miss, I was just trying to help.’ He gave a small bow and disappeared into the throng of people buzzing around the Arrivals lounge.
Olivia narrowed her eyes once more in search of anyone holding a sign that bore even the slightest resemblance to her name. At this point, she was tempted to pretend that yes she was, in fact, Mr Bob Salsbury going to the Hilton Hotel. Anything to get her away from this overbearing heat and noise. Suddenly the world shifted, and everyone’s faces began to swirl and merge into one. Olivia’s head felt light, and her hands began to tingle.
Oh God, not again.
She sat down on her backpack and placed her head between her legs. Flashes of colour danced across her field of vision and her stomach rolled with nausea. How could she have failed this badly at the first hurdle?
Olivia continued to take deep, slow breaths. Soon the dizziness retreated, and her body began to solidify back into its skin. Although she still felt completely and utterly hopeless, Olivia knew that she needed to focus. There was only so long she could sit here waiting for her driver. If they didn’t show in the next hour, she would get a taxi. In order to get a taxi, she’d need …
‘Money,’ she affirmed, standing with a newfound determination. She hoisted her bag on to her back and waddled over to the nearest cashpoint, carefully trying to avoid being knocked over by the unrelenting mass of travellers.
‘Do you need help, miss?’ an eager voice piped up from behind her. Olivia turned to find another smiling stranger staring at her expectantly. How desperate and hopeless did she look?
Do you really want to answer that?
‘No, I’m fine thanks.’ She nodded curtly, turning back to face the smeary, grease-stained cash machine screen. Thank God for the extra-large hand sanitizer she’d packed as alast-minute addition. Noticing that her new helpful stranger hadn’t quite left her side, Olivia warily punched in her PIN and withdrew a sizeable wad of cash.
‘Do you have everything you need now? Can I get you a taxi?’ the man bleated, his hand twitching in readiness to relieve her of her backpack and carry it to his car.
Olivia paused for a second, rivers of sweat now pooling in the small of her back. Was she going to wait around for another hour in the vain hope that someone would magically appear with a big white sign saying …
‘JACKSON!’ she shouted, her eyes clocking a weary-looking man lazily waving a placard in the air. ‘THAT’S ME.’ She pushed past the over-friendly stranger and made for her driver, who was standing on the other side of the Arrivals lounge.
‘Excuse me,’ she called, forcing her way through. ‘Excuse me!’ But the man didn’t even blink; he simply continued to stand, slouched over, waving the sign at half-speed.
‘HELLO?’ she bellowed, her bag almost knocking an elderly lady to the floor as she darted between two reuniting families.
‘Hi. It’s me,’ she panted, finally standing in front of the man with the card. ‘I’m Miss Jackson.’
