Helena held Chadani Imelda’s arm up to wave as they disappeared into the futuristic glossiness of Terminal Five, lit up like a spaceship in shades of purple and blue. Then she cuddled her little girl close to her in her smart red coat.

‘I love you so much,’ she said. ‘But Mummy has stuff to do too.’

‘MUMMY!’ said Chadani cheerfully, and bit her affectionately on the ear.

There was a queue of hundreds of people at check-in. It made Issy tired just looking at it; she’d been up since 5.30. Lots of screaming children, obviously travelling for Christmas, and loads of complicated-looking baggage being checked in. The queue wound round and round the metal poles with strips to pull out and fasten to mark the line; several children were pulling them back, hurting their hands and causing disagreements in the queue. One harassed woman at the check-in desk had a grim set to her jaw that said she was getting through her day by sheer willpower alone, so not to try and cheek her.

Down in the main lobby of the terminal a brass band was playing ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ so loudly Issy couldn’t hear herself think. She felt a headache coming on. This was a stupid idea. They shouldn’t have come. She had a very ominous-looking letter from Darny’s form teacher in her pocket that she was taking to Austin that she recoiled from touching whenever her hand strayed in that direction and Darny was making the kind of loud sighs and eye rolls that generally precipitated an outburst against the world, and Issy felt ridiculously hot and stupid in her white coat; she knew her cheeks were red and her black curly hair had tangled itself in the humidity.

They heaved their stuff forward towards the front of the queue, where a man was checking boarding passes. Theirs had been lying on the hall floor when Issy had arrived home – she’d assumed Janet had dropped them in, but now she saw that they’d actually been couriered. She handed them over, feeling as she did so a mild panic that they were the wrong ones and the realisation in the pit of her stomach that she hated flying; it scared her stiff even though she’d never admit it in a million years.

The man studied the documents and glanced at her briefly. Issy felt herself go even redder. It would be entirely like Austin to get the date or the plane or the time wrong; once they’d been to Barcelona for a mini-break whilst Darny stayed with the dreaded aunties, and he’d booked the hotel for the wrong weekend. Typical. Issy chose to forget for the moment that instead they’d hired a scooter and gone off and explored the countryside, ending up in this completely amazing finca with a waterfall in the grounds and the most amazing paella, and had had the best trip ever.

The man finally looked up, smiled brightly at them and said, ‘This isn’t the queue for you.’

Issy thought she might burst into tears. They were going to have to turn round and head all the way back into town with all their stuff, and Darny would be a nightmare and she’d have to explain to everyone what she was doing back in London and Austin would probably extend his trip and she’d have to spend Christmas by herself because her mum was Jewish now and …

The man was pointing to the side. ‘You go over there.’

She followed his hand. It was indicating a red carpet, leading off behind a purple-tinted wall with a sign overhead saying, ‘Business and First-Class Passengers’.

Issy did an enormous double-take. She couldn’t believe it. She looked at the tickets but still didn’t really understand them, then smiled an enormous wobbly grin.

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ said the man. ‘Have a good flight.’

Suddenly, everything changed. It was, Issy told Helena later, like being whisked through the wardrobe to Narnia. There was an entire section for check-in just for them; no queues, no waiting to get through security. Even Darny was quietly impressed. They went up to the lounge, which had every magazine and newspaper and snack and drink imaginable, then, on the plane itself, they went upstairs, which was beyond exciting.

If Austin thinks this will change my mind about everything … thought Issy, sinking into the heavy pillows and pushing out the footrests as the plane banked over the twinkling lights of the city. For the first time ever (and with Darny in the window seat), she’d completely forgotten to be nervous on take-off, quickly texting Austin to say they were on their way (which he’d received with some relief). If Austin thinks …

But the weeks of late nights and constant early starts at the café, the worry and the work, coupled with the slow steady burr of the engines below, was too much for Issy, and she fell fast asleep, waking up six hours later to find, to her utter and total disgust, that they were commencing their descent.

‘I missed dinner,’ she said crossly.

‘Yes,’ said Darny. ‘It was amazing. Delicious. You could have anything you wanted. Well, I wanted wine but they said no.’

‘And I missed …’ Issy flicked quickly through the inflight magazine. ‘Oh no! They had all the good movies I wanted to watch! I haven’t been to the cinema in a million years. I can’t believe I missed them all!’

She looked around. Businessmen were removing their slippers and putting their shoes back on; pushing back TVs and footrests.

‘Nooo!’ howled Issy. ‘The only time in my life I will ever ever ever get to go business class on an aeroplane and I’ve wasted it all.’

‘Your face looks crumpled,’ observed Darny.

‘Nooo!’ Issy jumped up. The airline mirror reflected the fact that she looked absolutely gruesome. She did her best with the make-up she’d managed to grab on the way out. Then she added a bit more. Then she put some lipstick on her cheeks to try and stop herself looking like the walking dead. Instead she looked like a clown. She told herself, sternly, that she had woken up to Austin every single day for over a year and he hadn’t recoiled in horror yet, but deep down she realised how nervous she was. Not about him, but about what was going to happen. And maybe a little bit about him.

Austin was nervous too, standing in the airport arrivals. He was excited to see them, of course he was. It was just … he hoped … well, he just wanted everything to be good and happy and nice. But he also wanted – indeed, had pretty much promised – to come and live here now. To try things out. To travel, to experience life in the big city. He bit his lip. A brass band was playing ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ in the terminal forecourt. It was dreadfully loud.