‘Hello, old friend,’ I say.
It’s still dark as I reach the Tube entrance, just a glimmer of orange on the horizon. Maybe I could break the cycle here by wandering off into the distance? My favourite coffee shop is actually just around the corner. It won’t be open for hours but I could go and wait outside. Smell the cinnamon buns as they bake first thing.
My stomach rumbles and I find myself longing to do something as simple as ordering a drink at Bread & Buns. I miss normality so much! I miss the sound of the huge coffee machine whirring into action, the gurgle of the milk frother, my table by the window where Penny and I like to people watch. The lush green pot plants I tried to emulate at home but inevitably killed. Lovely owner Joe who politely laughs at my ‘Cappuccino? Cappucci-yes!’ joke which I definitely did not steal from theTrolls World Tourmovie, which I also definitely did not see at the cinema because I am a grown woman.
But most of all I yearn for freedom. The chance to make myown decision about where I’m going to be today. After eight solid days of Monday, I’ve grown used to feeling penned in. I’m worried I’m just accepting it.
It takes less than a second to decide that I will be brave. I will make choices for myself. I will step out of this pen! I pivot on the spot, a smile breaking out as I go to cross the road. I can do this! Of course I have autonomy over myself! My whole body feels giddy as I check for traffic in the twilight before stepping out onto the road.
The sound of screeching tyres makes me instinctively pull back.
A car I swear wasn’t there two seconds ago stops right in front of me, blocking my path.
‘Taxi to Heathrow Terminal Two, love?’ the driver calls out of his open window, his vehicle literally blocking my way across the street.
I give him a frightened stare.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, waving at his absolutely abysmal parking.
‘It’s Nina, right? You need to get to the airport.’
That second sentence sounded a lot more like a statement than a question. How does this random London cabbie know my name and, worse, where to find me? I didn’t order a taxi.
My stomach bottoms out as I realize I cannot get past, and I sure as hell am not getting in a car with a stranger who knows my name.
‘Better go,’ he says, looking at his watch. ‘We don’t want you to be late.’
Fear takes hold and I turn and run, down to the Underground and straight onto a waiting Tube train.
‘This is a Piccadilly Line train to Heathrow Terminal Five,’ announces the familiar voice as I perch at one end of the Tube. Shaky doesn’t cover it. Is Fate ordering me taxis now?
As my hair dries in the stale underground air, I consider my options.
One: Go through the motions,again.
Two: Stay on the Tube. Just don’t get off.
At this point, I can’t really imagine a better way to spend my day than riding the Underground around London. Anything has got to be infinitely better than getting on yet another chuffing plane. My carbon footprint must be through the roof right now! If I ever get out of here, I will have to live off-grid in a bid to make amends. Maybe keep chickens and grow my own vegetables and, I don’t know, compost things. I shut my eyes and picture Future Me with a little vegetable patch in my back garden and Callum’s there mowing the lawn and—
Oh dear. I’m delirious. Fantasizing about a future with a man who I’m supposed to be ruling out of my life.
We’re approaching my stop and I decide not to get off. Sure, some hideous and possibly quite silly destiny might await me even if I do spend the day riding the Underground but so what? Anything is worth a shot at this point.
I move over to a spare seat and sit down, my suitcase between my legs and my weekender balanced on top of it.
I fold my arms around the luggage as if it might offer me some protection.
‘The next station is Heathrow Terminals Two and Three, Nina.’
I freeze, not sure if I heard that right.
I stare, wide-eyed, at the information flashing up on screen, which all looks normal, but I swear the Tube announcer just said my name. The train rattles to a halt, the doors open, and I sit tight. Defiant. I will not be bullied! I am Nina Moss and yes, I do have autonomy over my decisions today thank you very much.
I wait.
The Tube does not move.
‘Please mind the gap between the train and the platform, Nina.’
