Periodically I checked the map on my personal screen and we seemed to be flying over Canada and Greenland for hours, which we were! Our final flight landed at 12:30 local time, 12:30 BST, which was 40 minutes earlier than expected, making the flight time 9 hours 25 minutes.
As we circled over London my emotions were running high. In a couple of hours I would see my family. In less time I would be bidding a farewell to Ian. Reality still hadn't sunk in. We patiently waited for the cabin to clear of passengers before we reached for our hand luggage. We were certainly in no hurry to evacuate the aircraft. We looked at each other. Ian asked me if I was ready. We picked up our bags and walked into the Heathrow terminal building, and slowly proceeded to the luggage reclaim area. Our general walking pace has been good throughout our trip but we managed to slow it right down in London. Neither of us were keen to return, but it was time, there was no alternative.
We grabbed a trolley and I stepped forward to collect our luggage from the conveyor belt. We had a short while to wait for all three bags. Then I returned Ian's mobile phone to him, having removed my SIM card. Ian remarked on how dirty Heathrow was as we made our way through the sparse customs area and into the busy arrivals and departures hall. The toilets were beckoning to us and I took the opportunity to clean my teeth. Unfortunately the water was lukewarm and uncontrollable but refreshing all the same. I wanted to brush my teeth forever if it meant not departing from Ian's company. When I had finished I rejoined him outside and we exchanged the credit cards we had been safekeeping for each other. That was it. Everything we took away with us was once again with its rightful owner.
After withdrawing some money from the cash machine we went to the London Transport booth to enquire as to which station Ian needed to catch his train from. It transpired to be Kings Cross. I would be getting the Paddington train to Reading. We had already decided to take the Picadilly line to Kings Cross and separate there, Ian to travel on to Newcastle, myself to Reading via the Hammersmith and City line. Ian bought our underground tickets and we clumsily squeezed through the barriers fully laden with our backpacks and hand luggage, having had to surrender our trolley.
The Picadilly line took us through twenty three stops which seemed to take a while. But I didn't care about the time. I was conscious that by now my brother would have calculated that I had arrived in the United Kingdom and would be seeing him shortly. But that wasn't important to me at that moment. Silent tears began to roll down my face again as our imminent farewell played on my mind. It was fast approaching and there was no avoiding it. No matter how much I willed it away. Ian was smiling at me. I tried my hardest to cease the tears and made my best effort at a cheerful smile for him.
At Kings Cross we reached the Hammersmith and City line, our place of separation, only to find that the line was closed on the weekend of 10 and 11 May at the section I required. Disappointment set in. The route chosen for me was not possible so Ian found an alternative route on the underground map and informed me of where to go. I was to go back onto the Picadilly line and retravel the section between Kings Cross and Picadilly Circus. There I would have to change onto the Bakerloo line to reach Paddington. Ian took time to ensure I understood where I was to go as I was unfamiliar with the London underground. More importantly, my head was so clouded from what was about to happen.
We were both still wearing our backpacks but had placed our other luggage on the floor in between us, then we smiled at each other and hugged one another as best we could with our backpacks in situ and I could feel the tears screaming within me. Ian's hug was so comforting and I didn't want him ever to let go. Our travels had come to their end. Our relationship had reached its end too. We could have been the only people in the station, I was so oblivious to my surroundings. I pulled away from Ian and collected my bag. We smiled at each other and said 'goodbye'.
At this point I had to force myself to just go and not to look back. I proceeded to walk back to the escalator, leaving Ian behind me, sensing that he was watching me walk away. I didn't turn round. Not until the escalator had started to carry me down by which time Ian was out of sight. I was brimming with adrenalin and my emotions were at their peak. Somehow I prevented myself from releasing any more tears and reached Paddington a short while later.
I bought my ticket to Reading and chatted with the sales assistant who enquired as to how long I had been away. I explained that sterling notes looked unfamiliar to me to which he offered that the ten pound note I had withdrawn from the cash machine and handed over to him had only been issued this last week. He gave me lots of shiny new coins as change.
I busied myself with reading on the train, trying to occupy my mind and disallowing myself to get upset. It felt extremely lonely without Ian sat beside me. It felt wrong.
At Reading station I had a peculiar sense of unfamiliar familiarity. I felt as though I had walked onto a TV set, that I was merely superimposed, it was extremely surreal. I waited briefly for a taxi who then drove me within close proximity to my parents' house, the driver and I conversing all about my travels on the way. The journey felt surreal too as I recognised some of my surroundings. At my final destination I paid my fare and walked the short distance to my parents' house. On reaching it I stopped. My parents were completely unaware that I was expected on their doorstep. They had no idea that I was stood outside or indeed had planned to be for several weeks. It was my final moment of anonymity and private reflection. I wanted to turn around and leave. I didn't belong here anymore.
I reached the front door, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door knowing that for my brother and his wife, their minds were now at rest. They had been expecting me. My Dad answered the door, peered out, and muttered 'yes?'
'I'm looking for a room for the night, please' I responded, my consistent line throughout our travels. Dad didn't recognise me. It took him time to register who I was, and then he grabbed me and refused to let go or let me pick up my bag which I had casually let fall to the floor. My backpack was still attached to my back. I hadn't even gotten into the house. The emotional pressure that had accumulated suddenly began to release and I joyfully shook with tears as the adrenalin flowed out of me. By this time my Mum had appeared, curious as to who had knocked on the door. She dropped her washing and her jaw and joined the reunion. My brother and his wife followed with an exclamation of 'it's about time! You landed 4 hours ago!'
The next few hours consisted of answering many questions, the distribution of gifts, a brief telephone call to my surprised Nan and some tea, realising that I hadn't eaten since last night. Sat down with a cup of tea I was then pleased to find that I had received a text message from Ian, checking that I had gotten through the tube okay and another displaying his feelings about the GNER service. I smiled to myself. I hadn't completely lost contact with my travelling buddy.
Having eaten my Mum produced an enlargement she had had printed of a photograph I took of an elephant calf in Chobe National Park in Botswana. I instantly recognised the elephant calf that was stood, protected by the breeding herd, under some trees in the dry park. I remembered the moment exactly. It was highly emotional and I was excited by the quality of the print.
Once my brother and his wife had departed for the day I introduced bao to my Mum, on request.
It had been an extremely surreal day.
I was missing Ian terribly.
It was the saddest day of my life.
Copyright 2003 Helen Fuller. All rights reserved.