Meet me at the airport

'meet me at Chez Gerard's, Gatwick North Terminal at 8 am on saturday don't be late'

That was all the email said. She had read it dozens of times since it arrived yesterday. It was now friday evening and Helen wasn't sure how to feel. One minute she was full of butterflies, the next euphoric that she was going to meet him at last. All evening she has been trying on clothes trying to decide what to wear for her day (well she hoped it would be a whole day) with Marcus.

Helen pampered herself with a long soak in the bath with her favourite bath creme, buffing her nails, applying fresh varnish the colour of gleaming gold. setting out her soft brown skirt and cream blouse with golden threads that glisten in the light finishing her outfit with strappy gold sandals. Her plans for an early night so that she would awaken refreshed, a mockery as she lay there too excited to sleep. Her mind playing over the first words they would speak to each other. Would they both be very formal, with this being the first time they meet or would she follow her heart and throw herself at him. Would they even like each other after all his time. How awful would that be if they don't.

Finally at 2.30 she falls asleep to be woken a few hours later by her alarm. grabbing a mug of tea as the shower runs she gets ready for her day out, by 6.30 she is on the road heading to Gatwick. No time now for nerves there will be time for those later, once she has found her way to the North terminal and into Gerards. As the miles pass she finds jerself wondering which flight he will be on, is he coming in from Belgium or could it be Holland or will it be somewhere further afield?

It has been a good run up, she has made good time and is looking for a good parking spot by 7.15 giving herself plenty of time for a visit to the powder room to make sure her lips and eyes are made up just how she likes them in time for her 8am rendevouz.