Missing In Action 2

So I did get home. Eventually. Thanks to the taxi-driving boyfriend of one of my secretaries, who rescued me from almost certain collapse and let me owe him the fare until I got back.

I had all of 5 minutes to pack my case, halve the pile of clothes Jack planned on taking, pack his case, have a shower, wash my hair, get changed, wash the pots, tidy up generally and feed the cat. I was less than 50% successful. Fortunately, the food remains in the washing-up bowl kept the cat going until my Mum called round to feed him a few days later. She washed up and tidied round too. I wish I'd given her a key years ago.

We arrived at the airport shortly after midnight. Our flight didn't leave for another 9 hours but I was just grateful to have had a lift there at all. Jack laid on my best Missoni beach towels and managed a few snores beneath the Travelex desk. I tossed and turned a bit on the cold stone floor before giving up and going to find some nail polish in the all-night Boots. I gave myself a great pedicure at 3am sitting in the crowded, but hushed departure hall. It was about then I started to relax.