It has been approximately 7 hours since I was alone in my bedroom trying so hard to picture what life would be like in London. Now that I’m in London I can’t stop thinking about New York. In around twenty minutes, I will enter Heathrow airport and I am totally not looking forward to it. I fished around for a snack in my handbag, (because everyone knows that plane food is yuck) but discovered the brown envelope that Mr Callender had given me yesterday instead. You’re going to have to open it sooner or later, I thought and carefully tore it open making sure that I didn’t make any mess on the plane. Inside was a smooth A3 piece of card with swirly handwriting on it. It read…
Miss Lucy Angelina Havenchild
There will be a Taxi waiting for you outside the Airport at exactly 6pm to take you to your accommodation. Be late and you will be walking ** Miles to reach your new home. Run.
I quickly checked my now London time zoned watch and saw that I had approximately one minute and fifty two seconds to find my taxi driver before he drove off. Shite. I ran helplessly to the exit and saw that lining the pavement were exactly twenty one identical black Taxis’s. Double Shite. I quickly sped over to as many taxis as I could, crazily looking to see if any taxi had driven off in the past two seconds of me looking.
“Hi, are you here to pick up a Lucy Havenchild by any chance?” I asked breathlessly to a bald man sitting in the passengers’ seat….except that it had a steering wheel in front of it. Wait do London cars look differently too? Aww man!
“Wha’ yes dear’. a’ you ‘er sweetheart’?” He asked politely in the most stereotypically English accent I had ever heard.
“Yeah” I said a little sheepishly.
“Well. I’m gunna need some sorta' proof to see if you are darling’. Sorry its regulayshuns” He said so matter-of-factly.
“Oh sure….” I said quickly and began rummaging through my bag for my ID card. I quickly flashed it in front of his face, just enough time for him to read what it had said and began picking up my luggage.
“S’alrigh’ darling’ I’ll take them for ya'. You just go get y’self comfortable in the back, alright?” He reassured.
“Thanks…” I muttered and began to open the door to the car. It smelt of cigarette smoke and grease and the thought that all taxis smelt like this. Oh God. The taxi driver then opened his door and fastened his seat belt. He smiled at me through the car mirror. He then began driving out of the airport and onto some weird looking road.
“So, where d’ya wan’ a go sweetheart? I know London like the back of me ‘and” He mentioned proudly. I rummaged around my bag for the envelope.
“Err…W12 4J6…to a Havenchild Manor?” I said unsure. The car suddenly jerked forward and I felt a tightening pain where the seat belt crossed my neck.
“What’s wrong?!” I asked completely confused. He then turned around to face me. A cross between worry and anger was evident on his face.
“Why d’ya wants go there?” He hissed.
“Uh….that’s my business. Are you going to take me there or not?” I asked remaining as calm as I could.
“Get out the car” He shouted and began to get out himself. He opened the boot of the car chanting something I couldn't make out, and threw my luggage onto the road. He then jumped back in and drove away. I could have sworn that as he walked past me I heard him hiss the words Halfling scum. Whatever that means….