The Stag and Hen Weekend (40 page)

The sun had long since disappeared as Helen arrived at East Midlands airport and made her way towards Car Park 6. Leaving her car in the nearest free spot Helen walked to the bus stop for the transfer pickup along with a couple in their twenties and a young family with a small baby.

The bus to the terminal arrived and as Helen boarded she checked her watch for the third time in as many minutes. Phil’s plane was due to have landed fifteen minutes earlier and while there was no way he could get through customs in so short a time, the longer the transfer took the greater the chance of them missing each other would be.

Instead of proceeding straight to the terminal as Helen had hoped, the driver visited each of the five car parks in between picking up passengers and by the time they were making their approach to the terminal Helen was close to tears.

Racing to the front of the bus before it had stopped Helen ignored the driver’s pleas for her to take a seat and practically flew from the bus when he finally opened the doors.

Entering the main departure lounge Helen looked up at the information screens frantically searching the arrivals board and soon found what she was looking for. Phil’s flight from Amsterdam had been delayed by twenty minutes, so although he had landed there was a strong chance that he was still coming through customs.

Helen ran full pelt along the station concourse collecting curious looks from everyone she passed. She didn’t care what all these strangers thought of her, she barely even registered them. All she cared about was seeing Phil and telling him how much she wanted them to stay together.

At the arrivals gate Helen came to a halt and waited, scanning the crowds for any sign of Phil and his friends. Just as she was about to give up all hope the doors opened and passengers began to emerge.

Helen ran over to the first person through, an elderly man with the air of a retired academic.

‘Excuse me,’ she asked. ‘Which flight were you on? I’m trying to find a friend who was on the Amsterdam flight. Was that yours by any chance?’

The man nodded. As Helen scanned the rest of the passengers her mind flipped back to that moment in the kitchen when she had opened up the notepad and saw Phil’s vows written in his unmistakable scrawl. Helen had never felt so loved, so cherished, every word was perfect, every sentence a hymn to the life they had shared. Phil loved her. He really loved her, he always had and he always would. No one else could ever make her feel what she felt at this moment and now she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life loving him in return.

Did Phil need to know what had happened during the weekend? Helen could see no justification at all for sharing her doubt. If there were a burden in keeping her secret then it would be borne by her alone. But for now, having overcome the greatest odds to reach this moment of absolute clarity, the story of how she had got there was nobody’s concern but her own.