I nod, incapable of speech.
Miguel embraces me tightly as we jog towards security. ‘You didn’t think to put on deodorant before you come and confess your love?’
I don’t listen to him. We get to the gate where an airport official waits, ready to examine passports and boarding passes. ‘Excuse me,Señora. I have to get an important message to someone on the other side of here. She’s booked on a flight to Stansted, London. Can you possibly…’ I say, breathless.
She looks me and up and down. ‘Importante…how?’
‘She has forgotten her wallet,’ Miguel intervenes. ‘¿Por favor?’
‘You can hand wallet to the information desk and we can pass it on,’ she tells me. She is judging my hair, the T-shirt that I’ve spent the past twenty hours in. ‘I cannot let you pass without documentation.’ Her face is dour and her hair is swept back tightly from her face.
‘Beatriz,’ Miguel says, his voice and tone sweetening as he reads her name badge. ‘Her flight is soon. Just let the boy through.¿Alguien puede acompañarlo, no?’
‘Señor, we are short-staffed as it is and your friend wants a private escort to return a wallet. Is she royalty?’
Miguel mutters something under his breath and I hold his arm to stop him making the situation worse. ‘Beatriz, he is lying,’ I say. ‘There is no wallet. There’s just this woman who is flyinghome and I need to tell her I’ve fallen in love with her. I really do love her.’
I thought this might appeal to Beatriz’s better nature but instead she laughs. ‘That excuse is worse than the wallet. What do you think this is, a romantic comedy film?’
But I see it all the time in the movies. People move around airports and board planes all the time, they race down runways, jump on buggies and tell people they love them.
‘No. Move aside,’ she insists.
‘Beatriz, don’t tell me you’ve never been in love?’ Miguel asks.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she says bluntly. ‘Señora! Señor!Please come through this way, ignore these gentlemen. Please have your passports and boarding passes ready.Pasaporte y tarjeta de embarque!’
‘You don’t believe in love? But you’re wearing a wedding ring,’ I say.
‘Yes, I am married with two children who I need to feed. No love is worth me losing my job because of somelocoman who wants to tell a lady he loves her. WhatsApp her.’
‘I can’t use WhatsApp to tell her that I love her,’ I reply.
‘Yes, you can. Use emojis. You know you are in Spain? Our police carry guns. No love is worth getting shot for.’
‘Well, could I tannoy a message? Write her something that you could deliver?’ I suggest.
‘Maybe she is getting on a flight to get away from you. Did you think of that?’ she says, looking me in the eye but also obviously getting a first whiff of me at the same time.
‘Beatriz!’ Miguel exclaims, shocked.
‘You are holding up my queue! Move! ¡Por favor!’ she shouts, adjusting the cravat on her uniform to assert her authority.
We step to one side, realising our plan to simply walk on through isn’t going to work.
‘I guess I could just text her,’ I say to Miguel.
Miguel turns into me. ‘No. I will create a distraction. You run? Yes?’
I do what?‘But she said, the guns…’ I whisper back.
‘She’s lying. I think…’ he says. ‘Go round the other side. You get your girl!’
I have no idea what I’m doing but I saunter over to the other counter, which is currently vacant, and slide under the fabric barrier, joining the queue, watching as Miguel stands where we were, making a loud and obnoxious phone call in Spanish. It gives Beatriz no option but to look at him. However, the lady is not only a sceptic when it comes to love, she also comes with smarts because she realises that I’m not there and scans the area until she sees me waiting next to a man with a terrible Ibiza Boss haircut and a towelling twinset.
I see Beatriz exhale loudly and speak into a walkie-talkie as Miguel jumps around behind her, mouthing a word.Run, really?I push past the queue. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m going to miss my flight,’ I mumble at people who are clearly annoyed that I’m pushing in. It’s not exactly like fleeing the scene of a crime as I have to run in a maze-like action around the barriers like a hamster. Should I just hurdle over them?‘Anyone else going to Stansted?’ I joke. ‘I’m so sorry. I have to get a message…’
I have to tell Chloe I love her before it’s too late. But I won’t be able to. Because when I finally get to the front of the queue, pushing past hordes of irked holidaymakers, there are three policemen, all wearing hats.Hopefully they don’t have guns. And I can’t run because one of them tackles me to the ground, pushing my face down until all I can see and taste is the shiny surface of the airport floor.
