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resignation.
    “Mum I need to do this. Anyway, it’s not like I was doing brilliantly there, maybe I’ll find a better job when I come back with my head cleared, I might be more excited about the job.”
    “Can’t you take a career break or something?”
    Kirsty hung up the phone in frustration, not in the mood for the conversation that had become a ritual since she’d announced to her parents that she was leaving. Her parents had left the poverty of 1980s Glasgow for London. Although they were reasonably well off now and had retired to a house beside the sea near Brighton, their earlier struggle still resonated, and they couldn’t understand Kirsty’s willingness to leave a well-paying job.
    She tip-toed back into her bedroom, and searched the bedside table for aspirin. Picking up her handbag, she noticed a light flashing on the clunky older model phone she’d borrowed from her brother. She unlocked the keypad and noticed that she’d missed several calls since putting in her SIM card the evening before.
    Daniel stirred beside her as she sat on the edge of the bed and dialled her voicemail.  She listened to four messages from Simon, which became increasingly incoherent. He had obviously ignored her advice to go home.
    “What is it?” Daniel sat up and sleepily nuzzled the back of her neck, pulling her back into bed.
    “Stop,” she laughed, standing up. “I need to finish packing.”
    “What’s the matter?” he asked, noticing her expression.
    “Nothing, just some weird voicemail messages from Simon.”
    He frowned. “He’s still bothering you?”
    “He was just drunk, I think,” she smiled and leaned across the bed to kiss him. “Look at you, all big and angry! I don’t need you to fight my battles; I can take care of myself. And now, I need to go pack.”
    Daniel smiled. “I can take a hint. I should probably get out of your way,” he said, reaching to the ground for his shirt.
     
    “Here. Drink this,” Grace said, handing Kirsty a glass of spitting purple liquid as she walked back into Grace’s tiny kitchen.
    “Ugh, what is it?”
    “Alka Seltzer, with Ribena to mask the taste,” Grace chimed back.
    “Nice. Thanks. I can’t believe we stayed up so late,” Kirsty squeezed her eyes shut and downed the fizzing concoction.
    Grace laughed. “Who knows when we’ll see each other next; we had months’ worth of talking to do.” She opened the fridge. “Who was that on the phone?”
    “Just Daniel calling to say goodbye,” she replied, placing the glass down on Grace’s kitchen table. “I was supposed to meet him for coffee before I left but something’s cropped up.”
    “You alright?”
    Kirsty nodded. “Yeah, fine. I knew I was leaving. I just wish my head didn’t feel like someone was hitting it with a hammer. I need to be at the airport in three hours.”
    “You’ll be fine,” Grace returned to the table with two steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of butter-soaked croissants. “Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said. About flying over to visit you?”
    “And?”
    “I’m going to try and get some time off.”
    Kirsty clapped her hands together. “Brilliant!”
    “I don’t know dates yet, it’ll depend on our workload, but if I can get the time then I’ll try and take it. I’ll keep you posted.”
    “I won’t hold my breath but it’d be so much fun if you did!”
     
    “Final call for flight 437 to Singapore.” Kirsty raced through Departures, wondering if she had time to stop at one of the newsagents. She and Grace had dawdled and left Grace’s flat far too late, with Grace insisting on accompanying her all the way to Heathrow.
    Deciding she had a few minutes to spare, she stopped and began to flick through some of the magazines on display, wondering what she was going to do to amuse herself on the fourteen hour flight. It took her a few moments to realise that the unfamiliar ring tone she could her was coming from one of her numerous bags. She