Finally, finally released I went to find H.
“My case is at Heathrow.” The vein in her temple throbbed quietly. “I’m going to kill Emma.”
“I really don’t think losing your case is her fault,” being a fair- minded Libran with Virgo tendencies, I rushed to the defence of the girl from the holiday company in spite of the catalogue of unforced errors.
Seriously unimpressed, H grunted, the prospect of even one day without her makeup and straighteners far more than she could tolerate.
“When we get back you can write a letter of complaint.” H was clearly on a roll, one step shy of travel industry genocide.
“Why me?” I asked.
“Because you’re good at writing stroppy letters.”
Arguing this point would have been futile and involve undermining the abilities others insisting on convincing me I had. I decided not to bother.
We went outside and I lit a cigarette as H stood feigning patience.