December 18th, 1990

December 18th, 1990

At home, England

“So,” Richard said at the staff car park, after retrieving our suitcases off the bus. “Are you heading home?”

I nodded yes.

“And do you expect we’ll be seeing each other again?”

I gave him a questioning look.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Ehm, eh,” I stuttered.

“Oh dear,” he said.

“Oh dear, what?”

“Your hesitancy just told me everything.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, quietly.

“It’s quite alright. I get the impression you’re still, shall we say, recovering, from the experience with your chap in LA?”

I sighed. “I think so, yes.”

“Our day together in London and evening in Philadelphia were, well, I’d go as far as to say, outstanding.”

I laughed. “I agree. And thank you.”

“Not to mention the lovely chats and cups of tea and biscuits we shared on both sectors.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I enjoyed that too.”

“So, perhaps when your heart is somewhat healed you’ll ring me again?”


“I do hope so,” he said with a shy smirk. “May I kiss you?”


He glanced around. “Not a good idea?”

“I don’t think so, you never know who’s watching. Besides, it’s against uniform regulations.”

“Kissing is?”


“Oh,” he uttered. “I never knew that.”

“Well it is for cabin crew but you lot can probably do whatever you want!”

He laughed. “I doubt that but well, in that case, I shan’t kiss you but I hope you leave knowing how much I want to.”

“I do,” I smiled, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“I sincerely hope our paths cross again, Karen. I have no plans other than family obligations over Christmas and like you I leave on Boxing Day but prior-”

“Where are you going?” I asked, if only to establish we wouldn’t be on the same flight.

“Los Angeles,” he said quietly.


“Sorry, I was hoping that wouldn’t come up.”

“It’s ok,” I said. “It’s over. Life goes on, right?”

“I hope so,” he said, pecking my cheek. “I truly hope so.”


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