At two in the morning, her radio alarm woke Angie. She cursed, tossed the duvet back, and wandered half-asleep to the bathroom. With lashings of cold water splashed on her face, any trace of sleep faded. She tottered to her kitchen and switched on the percolator. As she dressed, the aroma of coffee wafted its way to the bedroom. One wakening cup, two slices of toast and fifteen minutes later, Angie left her flat. The taxi she ordered arrived as she locked the door.
Davy was at the drop-off point when she arrived. He grabbed her bags and dumped them on his trolley.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
"Sit and wait." Bored, they watched passengers arrive, check-in and vanish towards security.
***
One hour passed, and another. Angie gave him her passport. "I'm off to the loo."
Curious, Davy turned the pages. The photo was terrible, and cropped hair did nothing for her. He calculated her age from her date of birth.
Angie returned and stood next to their luggage and took her passport. Couples arrived; families dragged their baggage and checked in without any trouble. The final call time drew near, and he wondered if his plan was going to work. Chaos resulted as a young blonde woman wearing a skimpy pale-blue T-shirt and ultra-mini skirt arrived at the check-in desk.
"Bingo! A full house." Davy jumped up from his seat and charged across the concourse. "Come along, darling, we're late."
She shook her head, stood and strolled towards the check-in desk.
Two trolleys crashed; suitcases and bags tumbled in every direction across the concourse floor.
Davy took the initiative. "I'm so sorry. I didn't look where I was going. Let me help you with those cases."
The woman screamed at her children, "Shut up. I can't hear myself think." She smiled at Davy. "No problem; accidents happen."
Angie retrieved their cases and shuffled to the desk.
Davy stared into the blonde's eyes, "What lovely children. They can't be yours. You're far too young. When my wife and I check-in, I'll help. If it's okay, I'll carry the little one."
The blonde nodded.
"I must apologise for my stupidity," he said. "You must let me buy you and your children a drink. A coffee or something stronger. For the children, a can of juice?"
"Great, cokes for the kids, and I'll have a large Bloody Mary."
At the desk, a calm young woman completed the paperwork. Once they were inside the departure lounge, Davy went across to the bar.
On his return, he handed out the drinks and made the introductions. "I'm Davy Jones, and this," he pointed, "is my wife, Angie."
The blonde crossed her legs and leaned back into the seat, her wide mouth, covered with bright-red lipstick, parted with a cheeky smile. "Joan Carney. Pleased to meet you. She pointed, Tommy, Terry, and the toddler's Tiger: after Tiger Woods the golfer. My old man couldn't make it, so I decided to go without him. The hotel can look after these three."
Davy cringed as he asked, "Where are you staying?"
"Don't know. The rep will tell us when we get there. If it's not much cop, you cause a stink, and the rep puts you somewhere else."
