At the airport, the driver drove as close as he could to the departure area before dropping me off. I paid him and raced into the airport then looked at the board. Flight 6224. Milan. I fully expected to see it say ‘boarding now’, but no, my heart lifted when I saw the word ‘delayed’. I might make it after all, depending on the delay. I found the right queue for check-in and joined the line of people who had probably all been stuck in the same traffic as I had been. As the line nudged forward, I kept glancing at the board then, oh no, I saw that the word ‘delayed’ had changed to ‘cancelled’. Cancelled? All around me, other passengers had noticed the board and were muttering to each other, all anxious to find out what was going on.

‘I am so sorry. We can get you on a later flight,’ the lady at the desk informed me when I finally reached her. ‘It leaves at six p.m.’

My mind went into overdrive. Six o’clock, two hours’ flight time, add another hour for the time difference then the drive from the airport. It would be late in the evening when I got to Milan, and there was no way to let whoever was supposed to meet me know that I was on a later flight. The invite had said to meet in the bar at the hotel at six thirty. I called Heather.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I said after I’d filled her in.

‘Take the later flight. And if there was to be a car waiting, they’ll know that the flight is cancelled. They will check, they always do. They might even work out that you’ll be on the next flight in. Have you got Stuart’s number?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Jon’s and Michael’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘Text all of them. Just say, flight cancelled, coming in later. Whoever it is will understand. Whoever it isn’t will probably text back asking what you mean and you’ll know it’s not him.’

‘And what if it’s not one of them?’

‘There are taxis, buses, just get yourself there. Look on it as an adventure. In the meantime, get a trashy magazine, go and get a glass of overpriced champagne and do your best to enjoy the trip.’