Leaving Patrick
Read an Extract
Jane stood in the bleak grey of Terminal One, her briefcase and computer
hanging from her slight shoulders as she rummaged in her handbag for her
telephone. Her long hair, shiny and dark, slithered forward as she bent her head,
covering her face and impeding her search. Her thin fingers scrabbled blind for
the cellphone’s familiar shape. Bingo. Extracting it carefully, she shook back her
hair, revealing an oval face with a high forehead over far-apart brows and deep
green eyes. Her nose was straight and little bony, but was compensated for by a
sensuous mouth, and a clear Celtic complexion. A good-looking thirty-something
face, but right now lacking animation or beauty.
Holding the telephone in her right palm she pressed the button with the practiced
thumb of the same hand. No signal. She walked to the smeary plate glass, and
faced the wet tarmac. Network busy. She kept trying as her gaze swung back to
the Arrivals Hall. The luggage carousel was unmoving and empty, the waiting
passengers stoical, like refugees.
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