‘This trip isn’t optional.’ If it was, she wouldn’t be going. She’d be avoiding a family gathering, the way she’d been avoiding all family gatherings lately. Not that she felt good about it. On the contrary, she felt horribly guilty. Even more so because just last week her mother had confessed how much she was looking forward to finally having everyone together. ‘I have to get home.’

‘I understand your frustration.’

Becky was confident she did not understand. There was no way this woman would have any insight into Becky’s current emotional state. If her hair was any indication, she was the type who had every aspect of her life firmly under control.

She tried to stay calm. She reminded herself how lucky she was. She had a job, somewhere to live, and she was healthy. She had nothing to complain about. The fact that her inner world was in turmoil didn’t count. She could almost hear her brother saying first world problems, Becks.

‘How about Edinburgh? I booked a flight to Newcastle, but Edinburgh would be fine. I can drive to Northumberland in just over an hour from there.’

‘Nothing is flying. Not to Newcastle, and not to Edinburgh. I wish I could help, but sadly we can’t control the weather.’

What can we control, Becky wondered? In her experience, not much at all. But maybe that was just her messy, complicated life.

‘I need to get home to my family.’

‘You and several million other people. It’s Christmas and as I said,’ the emphasis was gentle but unmistakeable, ‘nothing is flying. Have you considered taking a train?’

‘The trains are on strike.’ It was as if the entire world of public transport had conspired to make her Christmas as difficult as possible.

‘In that case I suggest a car rental, but you’d better make it fast because everyone here is going to have the same idea. And now if you’ll excuse me –’ the uniformed woman transferred her smile and her attention to the person who was next in the queue.

Becky knew she should feel sorry for her. It couldn’t be fun having to deal with a transport crisis guaranteed to put a dent in everyone’s Christmas cheer or to be expected to soothe and placate thousands of irate and upset travellers armed with nothing more than charm and a very red lipstick. But she was too tired to dredge up the necessary sympathy. Also the woman’s composure was annoying. How did she tame her hair into something so smooth and perfect? Was it part of the training course? No matter what Becky did, her hair ended up in a tangle of curls which was why she’d had it cropped short. There weren’t enough hours in the day to waste a chunk of them drying and styling her hair every day as her twin sister Rosie did.