“It’s all right, Carrot Top. Don’t fuss. We’ll see each other whenever you come to New York.”
“I’ve only been to America twice in my life,” he said. She tried to smile.
Once she had checked her eleven bags in at the counter, a process that seemed to take forever, she was allocated a seat.
“Flight BA 107, gate number fourteen, boarding in ten minutes,” she was informed.
“Thank you,” she said and rejoined Raymond, who was sitting on the end of an already crowded tubular settee. He had bought two plastic cups of coffee while Kate had been checking in. They were both already cold. They sat and held hands like children who had met on a summer holiday and had now to return to separate schools.
“Promise me you won’t start wearing contact lenses the moment I’ve gone.”
“Yes, I can promise you that,” said Raymond, touching the bridge of his glasses.
“I’ve so much I still want to tell you,” she said.
He turned toward her. “Vice-presidents of banks shouldn’t cry,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek. “The customers will realize you’re a soft touch.”
“Neither should Cabinet ministers,” she replied. “All I wanted to say, is that if you really feel …” she began.
“Hello, Mr. Gould.”
They both looked up to see a broad smile spread across the face of someone whose tan proved that he had just arrived from a sunnier climate.
“I’m Bert Cox,” he said, thrusting out his hand, “I don’t suppose you remember me.” Raymond let go of Kate’s hand and shook Mr. Cox’s.
“We were at the same primary school in Leeds, Ray. Mind you, that was a million light years ago. You’ve come a long way since then.”
How can I get rid of him? wondered Raymond desperately.
“This is the missus,” Bert Cox continued obliviously, gesturing at the silent woman in a flowery dress by his side. She smiled but didn’t speak. “She sits on some committee with Joyce, don’t you, love?” he said, not waiting for her reply.
“This is the final call for Flight BA 107, now boarding at gate number fourteen.”
“We always vote for you, of course,” continued Bert Cox. “The missus”—he pointed to the lady in the flowered dress again—“thinks you’ll be Prime Minister. I always say—”
“I must go, Raymond,” said Kate, “or I’ll miss my flight.”
“Can you excuse me for a moment, Mr. Cox?” said Raymond.
“Delighted. I’ll wait. I don’t often get a chance to have a word with my MP.”
Raymond walked with Kate toward the barrier. “I am sorry about this. I’m afraid they’re all like that in Leeds—hearts of gold, but never stop talking. What were you going to say?”
“Only that I would have been happy to live in Leeds, however cold it is. I never envied anyone in my life, but I do envy Joyce.” She kissed him gently on the cheek and walked toward the barrier before he could reply. She didn’t look back.
“Are you feeling all right, madam?” asked an airport official as she went through the security barrier.
“I’m fine,” said Kate, brushing aside her tears. She walked slowly toward gate fourteen, happy that he had worn the pink shirt for the first time. She wondered if he had found the note she had left underneath the collar. If he had asked her just one more time …
Raymond stood alone and then turned to walk aimlessly toward the exit.
“An American lady, I would have guessed,” said Mr. Cox rejoining him. “I’m good on accents.”
“Yes,” said Raymond, still alone.
“A friend of yours?” he asked.
“My best friend,” said Raymond.