Out of Reach

S. Baker Anthony

Description

How could June Anderson have imagined that her accidental nudge in the back of a stranger could change the course of her life? Yet, that is what happened in the immigration line at London's Heathrow Airport. For her it was a time of firsts - first time in an aircraft, first time leaving the United States. She had left her home in Seattle, Washington, the previous day and now felt tired and not a little anxious. Then she touched the man waiting in front of her. She apologized, of course, but he seemed to recognize her nervousness and helped overcome her fears by explaining the arrivals procedure to her. He was so kind and allowed her to proceed him into the customs area. She never imagined for a moment she would see him again, but fate had other ideas...

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 juillet 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781645750192
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Out of Reach
Anthony S. Baker
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-07-31
Out of Reach About the Author Dedication Copyright Information© Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32
About the Author
Anthony Selwyn Baker was born in Dartford, England, of Welsh parents. Following school, he worked in the photographic darkroom of Picture Post magazine before leaving to join the Royal Air Force as a photographer. He served in Europe and the Far East. Later, he taught photographic science at the RAF School of Photography and while there, he met his Scottish wife-to-be, Aileen McFarlane. They married in Scotland on St. Patrick’s Day and have two children and five grandchildren. Upon leaving the RAF, Anthony has continued to work in the photographic industry and traveled extensively throughout the world. Since retiring, he has developed a passion for writing, allowing him to continue his creative passions. Anthony now lives with his wife in Des Moines, Iowa.
Dedication
To my wife, Aileen, the love of my life; my two daughters, Natalie and Nicola; and my five grandchildren, Samuel, Chloe, Sophie, Ashlyn, and Adam.
Copyright Information©
Anthony S. Baker (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Baker, Anthony S.
Out of Reach
ISBN 9781645750161 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781645750178 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781645750192 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020908010
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Dedication
To Becky Wallace, who read the manuscript and said nice things. Ashlyn Streed, my granddaughter, who designed the cover.
University Photo Studio, Windsor Heights, Iowa, for the portrait.
Chapter 1
I have grown to dislike long-haul flying. Over the years, airline seats seem to have become more uncomfortable, aircraft are always crowded and worst of all, the hours aloft appear longer. Today, I felt no different. I was hot, sweaty, and tired after more than nine hours aloft. The drone of the aircraft engines and sound of the wind rushing past the fuselage had penetrated my sub-consciousness; I could still hear it, even though they were now silent.
What I dislike most of all, is the time it takes to exit the elongated silver prison after it parks at the arrivals gate.
I had flown from Chicago to London’s Heathrow Airport, arriving a little late at 8.35 am. As usual, the wait to escape seemed interminable and when I finally exited, the trek to Immigration Control appeared endless. It would not be so bad if all the escapees were walking in the same direction, but now, hordes of other passengers were walking in the opposite direction, to their respective departure gates. Here and there, were moving walkways, which some used; other escapees, like myself, preferred to walk after being cooped up for long hours aloft.
Finally, I entered the Immigration Hall, tired and a little bad-tempered. Even my clothes felt tired and needed revival. I looked around.
I noticed the lines of arriving passengers seemed longer than normal. Experience suggested it would be well over an hour before I could collect my bag from Baggage Claim and proceed through the Customs Hall. Puzzled, I checked the Information Board, noting four other long-haul flights from the States had arrived within a few minutes of each other.
I couldn’t stop myself from fuming with impatience, aggravated of course by jetlag, which accompanies every passenger traveling in an easterly or westerly direction. Thankfully, another immigration gate opened and an officer directed me to join a new queue forming there. I was about 10 th in line and started to feel a little better; perhaps I would be cleared of the formalities in a less time after all.
Trying to curb my impatience, I was startled, feeling someone bump me in the back. “Excuse me,” said a female voice and I looked around; as I did, the lady apologized once again, adding, “Is it always like this?”
“Usually,” I told her with a smile, “But at least today, they have opened another gate.” I looked at her; she was slim with the darkest hair falling in wisps across her face.
“You look tired,” I said, sharing her tiredness. “Where have you come from?”
“Seattle, Washington State,” she answered, smiling up at me, before adding, “This was my first long distance flight.” She looked around the arrivals’ hall, noting the long lines of exhausted passengers, some coping with fractious children. “Is it always like this?” she asked again.
I nodded, seeing what she saw. “Today is worse than normal,” I told her, “four jumbos seem to have landed within minutes of each other.”
I saw her nod, still looking around at the increasingly crowded arrivals hall. Clearly, I thought, this would seem very strange to her. “First time in England then?” I said and saw her nod.
“My first time anywhere out of the United States,” she answered in a tired voice, then smiled, which lit up her face and for a moment I saw the real woman behind the weariness. “You sound English, perhaps you are used to it?”
“You never get used to it,” I assured her with feeling, “but no, I was born in the US and raised here. My father was in the military, I have never seemed to lose the accent.”
She seemed nervous about the arrivals procedure, so I explained, “The Immigration Officer in the booth ahead will ask how long you are staying in the UK and check your passport; he will also want to examine the arrivals form you completed.”
She held up these documents for me to see. I nodded and continued, “Your passport will be stamped and then you will be allowed though to the Baggage Claim area. When you enter, you will see TV screens, check them for your flight number and they will direct you to the carousel where your luggage will probably be waiting, still going around or off-loaded by airport staff members. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”
She still looked apprehensive, so I hastened to reassure her.
“Collect your baggage and exit through the Nothing to Declare gate.” I looked at her, seeing her shake a little with nervousness. “Unless you have something to declare.”
She shook her head. “I have nothing, I am here on vacation.” She turned to look at me. “Will I be able to get a taxi outside?”
“Yes of course, it is well marked.” I thought for a moment. “When you get to your destination, stay in the cab to pay your fare. Sometimes street kids will see a tourist on the sidewalk, purse in hand and they will try to snatch it.” I saw concern on her face. “Don’t worry, take sensible precautions and you will be fine.”
I invited the lady to proceed ahead of me and soon I saw her disappear into the Baggage Claim area. I had no trouble and soon found my bag before heading for the exit.
Heathrow has a little-known facility which I use every time I visit. I rented a bathroom for two hours. These bathrooms are better equipped than mine at home, containing all the accoutrements needed to completely refresh the weary traveler.
I knew the bathroom would be spotlessly clean and today was no exception. I threw off my clothes and sank into a hot bath for a long, hot soak.
English baths, or tubs, are much longer than those typically found in the U.S. This bath was longer than my 6ft length and I reveled, basking in the hot aromatic water. Later, I had a shave and changed into fresh clothes, putting on a clean white shirt and grey suit.
At least for the moment, I had overcome my tiredness. Now, I was ready for my first business meeting, to be held that afternoon at a hotel near the airport.
First, I had a snack, then took the airline bus to the hotel a mile or so away. This would be my only meeting for the next two days. Usually I don’t have that much time, but occasionally I find it expedient to adjust my work schedule to accommodate the schedules of others I was too meet.
I knew everyone attending the meeting that afternoon and after the usual pleasantries, the meeting went off without a hitch. I took the hotel bus back to Heathrow Airport and collected my bag from a storage locker. I then took an underground train into the city.
Chapter 2
When in London, I stay at a hotel in Whitehall. It has all the usual facilities of a first-class hostelry with the added advantage of being centrally located.
I checked in as normal and after unpacking my suitcase, went down to the dining room for a meal and later the bar for a drink. I was in bed by 9pm and soon fell asleep. I awoke sometime during the night needing a pee and believed I would now be awake for the rest of the night. B