The Little Café in Copenhagen. Julie Caplin
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like a small girl trying to get attention from a teacher without being too obtrusive. I suspected she might be my lifestyle blogger, Fiona Hanning.
‘Hi, are you Fiona?’
She blushed scarlet and nodded with very quick short sharp jerks before making eye contact as warily as a deer stepping from the edge of a forest glade.
‘Hi, I’m Kate. Nice to meet you.’ I held out my hand. Her hand shot out from the sleeve of the hairy monkey coat, grabbed mine, squeezed and then retracted before I could even blink.
‘This is Conrad Fletcher, he’s an interiors writer. Conrad, Fiona Hanning, she writes the blog Hanning’s Half Hour.’
Mild panic stretched across Fiona’s face as I introduced them but thankfully Conrad didn’t have a shy bone in his body.
‘I love your blog darling. Such a clever idea.’ You never knew with Conrad whether he was bluffing, he liked to make out he knew everything and everyone, and although I’d never caught him out, I did occasionally wonder if it was all a front. To my surprise, he started talking about a recent article on the blog about upholstery of all things and then making suggestions for a follow up piece, with names and contacts she might try.
Fiona didn’t say much and seemed much better able to cope with this type of human interaction, being talked at rather than required to join in.
‘Conrad, well if you’re here, I must be in the right place.’ Avril Baines-Hamilton, a regular This Morning presenter, had arrived wearing a huge fur hat, outsize sunglasses and a full length down coat, belted in the middle. Making her grand entrance, she drew to a halt and dropped the handles of two pull along cases, a Gucci carry on case, which I recognised as the Bengal tiger edition, much featured in magazines, a snip at eighteen hundred pounds, and a second much larger bog standard Gucci case.
‘Hi Avril, we’ve met before. I’m Kate.’ She made no sign of recognition and she didn’t take her sunglasses off which I always think is rather impolite.
‘Have we?’ I couldn’t see the expression on her face for obvious reasons but her slightly indifferent bored tone bugged me. We were going to be spending the next five days together and a small fortune was about to be spent showing her the finest that Copenhagen had to offer. She could at least summon up a bit of enthusiasm.
Refusing to let my irritation show, I plastered a PR cum air hostess smile on my face. ‘Yes, several times but I suspect you meet lots of people. It’s hard to keep track. Now, I know it’s obvious but can I check you’ve all got your passports with you?’
Fiona immediately started patting her pocket and pulled out her passport straight away.
Conrad rolled his eyes good naturedly and dipped his hand inside his slightly shabby camel cashmere coat. He started to frown in consternation.
‘Don’t even think about it, Conrad,’ I said. ‘I know you and it would not be funny.’
‘You’re no fun.’ He grinned, devilment dancing in his eyes.
‘Not on this trip, no,’ I said in a suitably schoolmarm tone, hoping that he’d be sympathetic to me. When I’d invited Conrad, it had been a bit of a surprise that he’d not already been booked. Now when it was too late, I remembered that if he chose, he could be a liability. He was known for being a little bit rebellious and taking the mick with his expense account. I needed to be firm with him because if he decided to lead the other journalists astray, I’d be sunk. Avril would follow his lead without a doubt. Fiona, I couldn’t predict.
‘Morning,’ a quiet voice said in my ear. I whirled round to find David Ruddings who freelanced for the Evening Standard standing behind me, his usual gentle smile on his face.
‘Hello David, how are you?’
‘Excited.’ His face wreathed into a smile. Shame he was gay, he would have been perfect for Sophie, they both had that sunshine approach to life, although where she was bubbly and bright, he was quiet and beaming.
With an internal sigh, I calmed. Sophie and David would be a good influence and I could count on both to be on my side. Of course, the completely unknown quantity was Benedict Johnson, who probably would lead the charge if Conrad decided to be mischievous. And where the hell was he? I looked at my watch.
Five minutes to go before the official meeting time.
‘Good morning,’ Sophie’s voice trilled and there she was exuding brightness and cheer, like a blackbird fresh from the dawn chorus. I knew Sophie through Connie and as we’d met a few times it was rather nice to see a friendly face.
I introduced her to the rest of the group, letting them chat among themselves. There was plenty of time before the flight but I was conscious that everyone would probably expect a coffee. I for one could murder one.
‘Everything alright, Kate?’ Sophie’s low voice interrupted my thoughts.
‘Yes, fine. One more to come.’ I looked around the airport hoping that Benedict Johnson might materialise at any second. Surely he wouldn’t stand me up. That would just be rude, although I wouldn’t put it past him to deliberately miss the flight. Rude was his default.
‘Well he’d better get a move on, I’m dying for a coffee,’ muttered Avril.
‘Another five minutes. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’
‘I want to go to duty free. So we have to have coffee after security.’
Five minutes ticked by slowly and I forced myself to make light chit-chat and look completely unconcerned. Should I let them go through passport control and get settled or should I wait here for Benedict? The queue for check-in was starting to build up.
‘Kate, look I desperately need to get some essentials in duty free. I can’t hang around here any longer. It really isn’t on.’
‘And I’m in dire need of coffee, darling. Actually, breakfast wouldn’t come amiss.’
See – exactly as I predicted, Avril and Conrad had teamed up already, the high maintenance twins. They looked at me expectantly.
From behind them, Sophie flashed a sympathetic smile.
I was reluctant to let everyone out of my sight. This was worse than being a teacher on a school trip. Connie had told me enough horror stories. If I let them all disperse I might not round them up again.
Avril sighed heavily and pouted. Even behind the celebrity hat and sunglasses combo, I could tell she was sliding into petulance.
‘Tell you what,’ I said making a quick decision. ‘Let’s get our bags checked in and join the queue. Hopefully by the time we get to the front, he’ll have arrived.’
Everyone grabbed their bags and as we moved to join the queue, a helpful young man opened up a new check-in desk and summoned us over.
One by one everyone checked in their bags, as I scanned the area. Where the hell was he?
Now all the bags had gone and everyone looked at me waiting for me to decide what to do next. With a sigh, I knew I had to make a decision. Letting them go through passport control without me felt like an irresponsible mother hen waving goodbye to her babies, but there’d be severe dissension in the ranks if I didn’t.
‘You all go through passport control. And I’ll meet you …’ at the gate felt too late.
‘There’s a Café Nero there,’ offered Sophie.
‘I’ll meet you at Café Nero.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said Avril. ‘And you’d better give us our boarding passes. We’ll need them for duty free and if you don’t turn up.’
‘I’m sure Benedict will be here very soon,’ I said, wishing I could be sure of that.
I sifted through the printed boarding passes and handed them out to everyone.
Avril