Chapter 7: It starts to happen

Over the next few days all the arrangements fell into place. I had Daise booked on a flight from Kiev to Istanbul, then to Johannesburg connecting to Durban on an internal flight.

We chatted on the phone every day about inconsequential things, as both of us seemed to want to avoid committing ourselves to anything too serious until we were actually face to face. We were definitely becoming less still and awkward with each other on the phone though. I was hopeful that this would translate into a similar ease in person.

I think Beverley was just as excited as I was about the impending visit, although her sister and mother couldn't have been more disapproving. She came over to the house a few times, 'just to check on things' but I saw that she made sure that the maid had washed all the linen, prepared the guest bedroom (her old room) properly and generally made sure that everything was ready. My protestations that I had made reservations at a local guesthouse were dismissed out of hand. She had decided that Daise would stay in my house with me, and just to make sure that there was no pressure, she would have the guest bedroom with its en-suite bathroom.

On the Friday that Daise was scheduled to arrive, I got up early and went out to do some shopping for some groceries and other odds-and-sods. Then I moped around the house waiting for it to be time for me to leave for the airport. I had just finished eating some lunch I had prepared, when my cell rang, and I saw it was Daise from the caller-ID, calling me from the cell I had sent her.

"Hi Daise."

"Hello Rupert. I am calling you from the airport in Johannesburg. I am through customs and about to board the flight to Durban. I just thought I would call you and tell you that I am here safely."

"Thanks Daise. I am really glad to hear that. I will see you in about an hour?"

"OK. You will be there when I arrive?"

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too. I must go now."

"Bye. See you soon."

After I hung up the phone, I cleaned my teeth one more time out of sheer nervous anticipation, and jumped in the Land Rover. I had a bit of problem with my two Labradors. They had obviously picked up on my excitement and thought they were going out to the bush with me as they did at irregular intervals.

"No Jaxon. No Holly. Down. Not today." I told them. They were not terribly convinced and they gave me the peculiar wet-eyed look of sadness that Labradors do so well. I had to firmly suppress the guilt feelings that they were so adept at producing and I watched carefully until the motorised gate had closed fully behind me to ensure that they weren't trying to follow after me.

It took me just over half an hour to get to the Durban International Airport. Fortunately, the fifty or so kilometres wasn't congested too badly at this time of day. Parking was a lot easier now that the parking garage built in anticipation of the 2010 Soccer World Cup was completed, and I was waiting in the arrivals hall in good time. I was glad to see on the announcement screen that the South African Airways flight was scheduled to arrive on time.

Once the status changed to Landed, I got up from the seat at the coffee-shop where I had been sitting to watch the passing parade, and stood at the doorway that separated the hall where arrivals collected their luggage from the rest of the airport.

I was surrounded by the usual crowd of people waiting to greet the arrivals. The composition of crowds like this never seems to never change. I was pretty oblivious though as I waited anxiously for my first glimpse of Daise 'in the flesh'.

It took just over twenty minutes before the first arrivals from her flight started coming through the door. She was not in the first group and I was barely able to contain my impatience. I finally spotted her at the rear of the second group. She was wearing a small back-pack and carrying a small battered suit-case by its handle.

I stood for a few seconds and watched her as she walked closer, obviously scanning the crowd to try to spot me. I really liked the way she looked. The photos on the website, and the few others she had emailed to me since, did not do her any justice. Her skin had a clear, translucent look and her hair was extremely fine and very long. It was a brown colour with natural highlights that made it look blond. As she got a little closer though, what struck me was her eyes. They were a piercing blue. I couldn't understand how that hadn't shown up clearly in the photos.

Just then, she turned her head again and her eyes caught mine. She stopped, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car travelling on a dark road at night, looking as if she was frozen in place but ready to bound away at any second. I decided I had been right; this was one woman that had to be handled very gently; coaxed almost like a wild horse being gentled to the reins. I smiled at her and half-lifted my hand in greeting. I could see it took a conscious effort for her to break free of her apprehension and greet me in turn.

"Hi" she said.

"Hi. Welcome to Durban. It's great to finally meet you." I reached out and took the suit-case from her hand and our hands touched briefly. I was instantly transported back to when I had been twelve and had held hands with a girl for the first time. I was in the same state of excitement mixed with apprehension. "Here, let me take that for you."

"Thank you. It is nice to finally meet you too."

"Are you OK? Do you need to use the ladies' or something?"

"What?"

"The Ladies." I pointed to the universal airport sign for the toilet and she suddenly grasped what I meant.