‘Should we wait?’ Grace asks as she pulls up outside the terminal.
It’s painfully early, the sun only just up.
‘I don’t know,’ I say, looking up at the signs. ‘I’m not sure you can. This is drop-off only.’
‘But what if they’re not there?’ she asks.
‘Or if they totally blank you?’ Audrey pipes up from the back seat.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘I reckon I’m just going to have to chance it.’
I climb out of the car and retrieve my luggage from the boot. Grace and Audrey get out too, waiting on the pavement as I heave my rucksack on my shoulders and check I’ve got everything.
‘Your T-shirt looks really cool,’ Audrey says.
I look down at my brand-new ‘It’s All About Mia’ T-shirt.
‘Cheers, Auds,’ I say. ‘They came out good, didn’t they?’
‘Really good.’
‘Maybe I’ll make you one one day.’
‘Yes please.’
I turn to Grace. ‘Thanks again for driving me.’
‘No worries. Now, are you sure you don’t want us to wait? I could maybe park up somewhere else.’
‘Don’t be silly, you need to get back for Elijah’s next feed. Worst comes to worst, I can get the bus back. It’s only 40 minutes back to Rushton.’
‘OK. Well, fingers crossed, I guess.’
‘Yeah.’
She holds out her arms. I’m still getting used to seeing her without her massive baby bump. It’s weird, but I almost miss her funny waddle and her freaky pregnancy jeans and the smell of her disgusting red raspberry leaf tea. As she hugs me, I realize she smells of Elijah now, of milk and olive oil and freshly washed cotton. I turn to Audrey, hugging her just as tightly.
‘I should have recorded a clip of me snoring for you to play while I’m gone,’ I say as we separate.
‘You so should have!’
‘Maybe next time, you little weirdo.’
She grins.
‘I’d better go,’ I say, checking the time on my phone. ‘I’ve got to check in and all that.’
‘Like I said, fingers crossed,’ Grace says.
‘Fingers crossed,’ I repeat, taking a deep breath and heading towards the door marked ‘Departures’.
The airport is busy, crammed with stressed-out parents and kids riding Trunkis and groups of friends chattering excitedly. I look for Stella, Mikey and Kimmie. Maybe they’ve gone through to the gate already.
‘Is it possible to see if my friends have checked in if I give you their names?’ I ask at the check-in desk.
‘I’m afraid not,’ the woman behind the counter says, handing me my boarding pass.
‘OK, thanks,’ I murmur.
I go through security, then duty-free, weaving in and out of the displays of perfume and bottles of whisky and giant Toblerone bars, on constant alert for Mikey’s hyena laugh and Kimmie’s impossibly shiny hair and Stella’s embroidered denim jacket, my heartbeat quickening every time I see anyone even vaguely fitting their descriptions. It feels like everyone here is in a group, that I’m the only person in this entire airport who’s alone.
I’m one of the first people to arrive at the gate.
The seats around me begin to fill up with families and loved-up couples and groups of friends, multiple versions of Stella, Mikey and Kimmie, but none of them the right ones. None of them mine.
There’s a stewardess now, checking the lists – it won’t be long now before we can start boarding. I’m unsure what do, whether I should board the plane alone or not, but resigned to the fact my friends aren’t coming.
That’s when I hear a familiar voice yell the immortal words, ‘Hold that plane!’
Mikey.
Seconds later, he, Stella and Kimmie career round the corner, all three of them red-faced and out of breath.
All three of them wearing their T-shirts.
All three of them looking at me.
I abandon my hand luggage and leap up. We collide in the middle of the lounge, bashing heads and knees and elbows. I don’t realize I’m crying until we separate from our messy hug and I see the damp patch on Mikey’s shoulder.
‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘Of course we were coming,’ Mikey says indignantly. ‘As if I saved up all my pocket money to stay at home.’
‘Stu’s car broke down about a mile away,’ Stella explains, her chest heaving up and down. ‘We had to walk down the hard shoulder with all our luggage. Nightmare.’
‘We only just made check-in,’ Kimmie adds, out of breath.
Her T-shirt is a bit baggy on her. ‘I knew I should have gone for an extra-small,’ I say.
‘No, I like it like this,’ she replies. Just like Kimmie.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell her. ‘More sorry than I’ve ever been in my life.’
‘I know,’ she says simply. ‘I know you are, Mia. Apology accepted.’
I start crying again.
Mikey plants himself in front of me. ‘Who or what are you, and what have you done with our friend Mia?’ he asks.
‘That’s more like it!’ he crows.
We start laughing then. All four of us at once. Me and my best friends.
And it’s the best sound in the entire world.