Chapter 1 - Lily
Left or Right….?
Sometimes that simple, in the moment, split decision can change the course of your life…..
Left or right, left or right. This simple innocuous decision would change the course of my life in the space of a few hours, but someone wise once told me - to change your life you need to change your choices. If only someone had shared that wisdom earlier as I stood rooted to the atrium floor in Paddington station.
Left or right, my head whipped from side to side like I was watching the Wimbledon final. I was going to get whiplash as the writing began to blur in front of my eyes as the crackling tannoy bellowed muffled monotone updates.
The giant neon numbers rolled over again, resetting the departure train times just as it had thirty seconds ago and thirty seconds before that and thirty seconds before that.
I just had to hurry up and make a decision. My toes were already numb in the business heels that did nothing to protect me from the British December weather. Plus my bottom lip felt tender from where I’d scrapped it between my teeth too many times as I mulled over my indecisiveness.
This was all Monique’s fault. She had planted the idea in my head as she puffed on her Parisian cigarette outside her SOHO offices. Her hand pulled closed the thick woollen jacket at her neck as she shuffled from foot to foot in the cold as she imparted her pearls of wisdom.
“Écoutez-moi Lily. If you are going to take a few days rest to recover, go somewhere. Don’t just sit at home doing nothing, because you will end up working and you know it.” She glanced down to my right hand that I hadn’t realised I was flexing until she drew attention to the ache that was now a permanent dull throb. Her eyebrows drew together as she scowled and scoffed in her usual dramatic French style. “Rest it.” She jabbed her cigarette in the direction of my wrist. “That is your livelihood so listen to what your body is telling you.” Taking a final deep drag, she threw the butt on the floor but it rolled away before she could stamp it out. “You have money burning a hole in your pocket. Spend it. You have your passport. Just go, get on a plane and go anywhere.” She waved her arm dismissively. “Now go.” She drew me in for a last hug and kissed me on both cheeks. “à bientôt ma chérie.”
So here I was, inside a bustling Paddington Station, staring at the constantly changing train times, shoulder to shoulder with other miserable and cold commuters.
The choice seemed so simple. The platform two train would whisk me home. After a fifty minute journey I would be curled up on my sofa, decked out in my flannel PJ’s, under my cashmere blanket. I could be reading a good book in front of a roaring fire with a glass of wine and a pizza delivery on it’s way. My stomach grumbled as I swallowed and licked my lips as my mouth watered picturing the mozzarella strands stretching between the freshly torn slices as chilli oil ran off the sides. I was starving, so it should have been a no brainer.
Yet my eyes kept darting to the departure time of platform seven. I was drawn to the words that teased me in bright yellow lights - Heathrow Airport. I could follow Monique’s advice and do something reckless for a change. Shivers of excitement radiated from my stomach at the thought of turning up at the nearest airline desk and buying the first ticket to anywhere.
Now there are two playful lines from movies that I have always wanted to say. One was to jump in a taxi and yell ‘follow that cab!’ The other was to walk up to an airport desk and say ‘get me on the first flight outta here.’ This was probably the one and only time the opportunity to say those words would present itself in my lifetime.
But unlike the Hollywood movies, my life was not an exciting adventure. It was meticulously planned and safe and predictable.
Two or seven, left or right. My woollen gloved hand gripped my passport tighter in my coat pocket as I threw my head back to stare at the glass domed ceiling and groaned at my indecisiveness.
I just needed a sign to help me decide. A big flashing beacon telling me what to do. I wasn’t reckless or spontaneous so the thought of jumping on a plane with no luggage was an insane idea, but I couldn’t deny that my heart raced with excitement when I thought about it.
The screen turned over again announcing that my train home was now delayed by twelve minutes so my wait just increased to an hour. I huffed releasing a cloudy steaming breath into the biting freezing air. Just what I needed, my nose was already achingly cold. It would be numb or worse it could actually fall off from frost bite before I finally sat on the train home.
I looked to the right. Platform seven - Heathrow Express leaving in eight minutes.
Okay, but that wasn’t a real sign, that was just a coincidence. I shook my head to dismiss the thoughts of relaxing with a cup of coffee inside the toasty carriage of the Heathrow Express. Instead I could hang out next to a magazine rack for half an hour and try and warm up inside a shop. That was not a big enough sign for me to throw caution to the wind and do something so reckless and out of character.
Just then the giant electronic advertising board that stretched the full length of the departure screen flashed up an image of an airplane with Santa’s sledge sitting on its wing.
Christmas Shopping in New York - In 8 hours we can make all your Christmas wishes come true!
I had always wanted to go to New York at Christmas time. I’d seen it often enough in the Christmas movies and I’d imagined what I would do there so many times. Ice skating in front of the giant tree at the Rockafella centre, followed by a horse drawn carriage around a snow covered central park. Not to forget, running through Time Square, my brightly coloured scarf blowing behind me as I carried mountains of Macy’s and Bloomingdales shopping bags, yelling “TAXI!” to the yellow cabs driving by.
It was one of my bucket list items. It would be nice to finally tick something off the list. I was 28 and the greatest achievement I could ever claim was that I’d never missed a work deadline. Adventure was not in my vocabulary and let’s face it, knowing my luck I would get to the airport and there would be no more flights today. Just a few tail end flights to some god forsaken place that I wouldn’t wish to send my worst enemy.
Just as I began to talk myself out of it, the advertising display rotated to a giant snowflake with the Heathrow logo.
30 daily flights from London Heathrow to JFK! Fly with one of 7 world class carriers for the ultimate Christmas Shopping experience.
Okay it might be a sign. The universe could be trying to tell me something. “Oh what the heck,” I muttered to myself drawing cautious looks from fellow waiting passengers. There was no harm in going to look and it wasn’t like my train home was coming any time soon.
I dragged my handbag further up my shoulder and spun around hurriedly racing through the train station as fast as my heels could take me, scanning the overhead signs for the number seven.
“Four, five, six…” I panted the words as I dodged the meandering commuters and drew closer to platform seven.
The train was already teasing me with its awaiting open doors, its engine ticking over with only five minutes left until departure.
I pulled out my purse and joined the back of the queue for the ticket machine. There were still two people ahead of me slowly reading each line of instructions and prodding the payment touch screen at a leisurely pace.
“Come on, come on…” I whispered frustratedly through gritted teeth. Glancing up at the clock counting down the few remaining minutes I realised maybe this was the actual sign I was looking for. If I missed the train then I guess it was the universe telling me I should just go home.
I resolutely stuffed my purse back into my pocket just as the queue dwindled and the businessmen in suits stepped aside, dragging their carry on cases towards the rumbling train.
Nothing now stood between me and the flashing screen highlighting my next dilemma. One way or return. Two buttons. I didn’t even allow myself to think through the options. I hit return knowing that if all else failed I would be back on the train within the hour and heading home.
Tugging forcefully the printed ticket from the dispenser I raced onto the platform - only one minute until departure. I was starting to sweat under my thick winter coat as I ran as fast as I could in my high heels along the platform. I tried to ignore the loose strands of hair that had escaped from my ponytail and were now whipping across my face as my ragged panted breaths puffed perfect icy clouds.
A sharp piercing whistle blew in warning that I was out of time, as I thrust my arm through the first open door, ensuring it didn’t close before I threw myself into the nearest carriage. The whistle blew for the final time and the doors gracefully slid silently closed behind me. I lent back on the cold metal, trying to catch my breath whilst gripping my handbag to my heaving chest.
The universe had spoken, fate was taking me on an adventure even if was only to the airport and back.
