Dead at First Sight

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Life may not be the party we’d hoped for, but while we’re here we should dance, Gerald Ronson used to say. It was Gerry who had put him up to this, the reason he was standing in the arrivals hall of London’s Gatwick Airport. A bit difficult to dance at this particular moment, but inside him, boy, was his heart pounding away!

She would appear at any moment.

His upright military bearing, conservative tweed suit, suede brogues and neat grey hair barbered earlier today were at odds with the sheer, utter childlike joy on his face. His whole body was jigging with excitement. With anticipation. His stomach was all twisted up. He felt like a teenager on a first date, except he was approaching sixty, and he knew it was ridiculous to be like this, but he couldn’t help it. And, hey, this day had been such a long time coming — almost a year — he could scarcely believe it was finally here — that she was finally here!

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