Escape

“Have a good trip,” I say to an elegant dark haired woman, as I pass her the newly purchased travel guide.

“Thank you,” she replies and taking the book turns to leave. I muse on whether her trip is for business or pleasure. She looks wealthy and is dressed stylishly, but impractically for travel. I work in a book shop, based in the departure area of Heathrow airport. I’ve been here for two years. It was only meant to be a temporary job but I seem to have got stuck here. The best thing about working in an airport is the atmosphere of optimism and adventure. Everything is in a state of flux, nothing is fixed. Apart from the regular workers, like me, everyone is moving on to some other destination. I relish this sense of potential for new experience, which permeates the air.



All kinds of people pass through the shop as they journey on to somewhere different. Often, I try to guess what type of person they are and where it is they are going, or I imagine the chain of events which have led them to this day of departure to some distant place. Sometimes people are excited about where they are going and they will be skittish and over talkative and tell you all about their planned trip. Maybe it is a holiday or a visit to family, either way their enthusiasm is irrepressible. Then there is the world weary business traveller looking as if he would rather be anywhere than at the airport; ready to board another flight, to another meeting, in another part of the world, to visit yet another version of the same office he has just left. And then there are the ones who are nervous flyers. They flit around the shop looking for something to take their mind off the fact that they are soon to step on board a great hulk of metal and hand over the control of their life to an airline, which they hope is rigorous in its engineering checking systems and security procedures. I am always a little envious of all of them and their ability to escape to a different place, envious of the promise of a new world opening up to them.



I only work day shifts, eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. At the end of the day, Sue, my supervisor and friend, hands over the reins to another team who cover the evening shift. Before leaving I surrender my till keys to Sue and she takes a till reading.

“Doing anything interesting tonight, Sophie?” she asks. I cast about my mind looking for something interesting to tell her but unfortunately I come up with nothing.

“No just going home for a quite evening in, maybe watch the TV or read something,” I reply.

“You need to get out and about a bit more.” She says, unhelpfully, as she slams the till drawer shut. “Have you thought about speed dating or internet dating? She asks. I back away from her, eager to escape another analysis of why my social life is failing. “You’re still young you know. You’ll have plenty of time to watch TV when you’re an old lady!” She shouts after me as I hastily leave.

“Bye, Sue,” I say smiling and walk towards the exit. Sue takes great interest in my personal life and is eager to ‘fix me up’ as she puts it.



I catch the bus to and from work everyday and on most days see the same familiar faces. Like me, many of them also work at the airport. We acknowledge each other briefly with a weak smile or a nod but nothing more. None of us seems willing to run the risk of making conversation. On the way home I read a new travel guide, which I bought from the shop, at a discounted price, and day dream about visiting the ‘must see’ monuments and areas of outstanding beauty which it recommends.



I let myself into my small flat, which I have lived in since I split from my partner and am greeted at the door by the cat mewing for food. She brushes up against my legs as I make my way through the hall-way to the kitchen. The cat settles down to her saucer of food and makes contented noises of appreciation as she eats while I stand and stare out the window over the roof tops of London. The day is nearing its end as the sun gives up its struggle to make impact on the grey London sky and slopes off sadly to the west. Eventually, I pull myself away from the window and pick up a magazine and read the horoscope page.

“You are feeling adventurous and romantic at the moment. Strike while the iron is hot and create the life you feel you deserve today!” It instructs me. "Well tomorrow is a new day." I tell the cat.



Arriving at eight the next morning the shop is already busy and Sue is stacking the daily newspapers.

“Morning Sue,” I shout over to her as I go through the staff door to put my bag away.

“Morning Sophie, could you start putting those new Lonely Planet guides on the display unit at the front of the shop please?” she asks, as I emerge through the door. I arrange the books carefully on the shelf and take a few minutes to read the blurb on the back covers. As I stand reading, I gradually become aware of someone to the right of me standing motionless. Instinctively, I look up and meet the gaze of a tall man with deep set eyes, watching me. He is unshaven and looks a little dishevelled, which, to be honest, is not an unusual sight at an airport. As I confront his look he quickly averts his eyes and picks up one of the Lonely Planet guides and begins to read the back cover. I return to my work and after a few moments I chance a glance up to check the stranger out, only he is now moving swiftly towards the till where he then pays for the book and leaves. I watch his retreating figure disappear into the bustling crowds and then go over to Sue at the till.

“Did you notice that guy who just left?” I ask her.

“You mean the one who looks like he sleeps in his clothes,” she replies.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He looks familiar but I can’t think where I’ve seen him before.”

“Hmm I don’t think I’ve ever seen him. Though he does look like he might scrub up well,” she says, grinning at me and raising her eyebrows in a faux suggestive manner.

“You’re incorrigible!” I say, laughing, and return to my book stacking task.



The rest of the day passes without incident. At lunch time I read an article about a woman who discovers happiness and spiritual well being by de-cluttering her house. Apparently by ridding herself of most of her worldly possessions she cleared the pathway to find her true calling in life. I consider clearing out the kitchen drawer when I get home to test the theory.



At the end of my shift I return to the outside world. I leave behind the windowless, air-conditioned environment and as I exit the building natural exuberant sunlight rushes to greet me at the door like an over excited child and instantly I feel uplifted. I cross the road to the bus stop and standing in the queue I bask in the warmth and brightness of the spring day. Behind me someone tentatively says,

“Lovely day?” I nod in agreement and turn to acknowledge the person speaking. Recognition comes to me in a flash. It is the dishevelled man I saw earlier in the day, only he looks tidier and more awake now.

“Yes, I think spring has definitely arrived.” I answer banally, starting to feel uneasy as to why this strange man has appeared by my side again.

“Do you work in the book shop every day?” he asks.

“Well …not every day.” I answer hesitantly, as I try to work out if this guy is just being friendly or if he is some thing more sinister. I glance around to seek out an escape route should I need one. Sensing my unease he smiles and says,

“It’s just that I work in the book shop in the evenings and I never really knew who did the same job as me during the day light hours.” Comprehension along with relief sweeps over me.

“Oh I see. So this morning, when you were in the shop, you had just finished your shift then?”

“Yes, only I came back to buy the Lonely Planet guide because I had forgotten to pick it up before I left.” He said.

“So are you just about to start your shift now?” I ask, looking back towards the terminal.

“Umm…no,” and he pauses awkwardly. “I just came back in the hope of catching you… to see if you would like to go for a coffee sometime?” He said, looking embarrassed but determined. “I think we may like the same books,” he says gesturing towards the Australian travel guide I held in my hand.

“Oh,” I replied looking down at the guide feeling both foolish and pleased at the same time. “Okay…how about now?” I ask cheerfully, amazed at my sudden ability to seize the day.

“Great let’s go then. Sue says there is a good coffee shop round the corner from here,” and he starts to lead the way.

“Sue?” I look questioningly at him.

“Yes, Sue, you know your supervisor in the book shop.”

“Ah yes, that Sue.” Well she was right about one thing he did scrub up well.