90 Days in London

Chapter4: Flying to London

They return to Clarence’s apartment, where she hands Mabel the key. Someone’s going to sublet her place for the whole summer—an American high school student learning Spanish in Madrid. It’s a win-win situation. Clarence can’t help but think about how nothing of real value can be stolen from her apartment—just a few composition books and some mismatched socks. Everything important fits neatly into two 20x20 suitcases.

“Enough,” she thinks. “My life can fit into that.”

Mabel drops her off at Madrid-Barajas Airport. “I’m going to miss you, Clarita!” she exclaims, pulling her into a tight hug. Their bodies press together in a way that feels both comforting and bittersweet.

“Behave, babe!” Clarence kisses Mabel on the cheek. She steps back, waving goodbye as she heads toward the departure gate.

Clarence approaches the check-in counter at British Airways, her heart pounding. She hands over her e-ticket confirmation and passport. The woman behind the counter, in her thirties, wearing a sleek bun and a crisp navy blazer, glances at the documents with a focused, professional expression.

For a moment, Clarence feels a flutter of anxiety. She’s confident everything’s in order—her visa’s valid, her paperwork’s all set—but the silence stretches on, making her nerves tingle. The agent’s lips are painted bright red, cracked slightly as she concentrates on the screen.

After a brief pause, the agent looks up with a smile. “You’re all set for your flight,” she says, handing over the boarding pass. “Do you have any bags to check?”

Clarence exhales, relieved, and places her suitcase on the conveyor belt. “Just this one,” she replies, the tension easing away as she watches the bag disappear.

Leaving the check-in booth, Clarence hurries through the terminal, glancing at her watch. She has just 30 minutes left before boarding closes. Finding the departure gates is easy, and she settles into the waiting area to double-check her checklist. Her concert app displays her tickets, and her calendar is packed with upcoming activities.

Just then, her phone buzzes. It’s Albert Huang.

“Albert, it’s not even ten yet,” she answers, irritation sneaking into her tone.

“It’s ten somewhere else,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing. “So, are you boarding for London now?”

“Yeah, how do you know that?”

“Just a hunch. I’d love to swing by and pick you up when you land,” he suggests, his tone light but persistent.

“I already told you no.”

“Alright, just enjoy the flight. And don’t be shy to ask them anything about the services on the plane,” he adds, always the charmer.

“Silly,” Clarence mutters, glancing at the monitor. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. We can catch up next week, okay? And try not to chug on melatonin.”

As the boarding gates open, the monitor announces the flight number, and passengers bound for London begin lining up.

Clarence smiles as she approaches the flight attendant, handing over her ticket and passport. But the attendant pauses, staring at her ticket for a moment too long.

“What’s the matter?” Clarence senses trouble.

“Nothing, ma’am, but you’re in the wrong line,” the attendant says, her smile a little too reassuring.

Clarence takes her ticket back, rereading it and checking the boarding gate again. “I’m at the right gate. What do you mean?”

The attendant’s smile never wavers, though there’s a slight twinkle in her eyes. “It is, ma’am, but this line is for economy.”

“I booked economy,” Clarence says, frustration creeping into her voice.

“But your ticket says first class,” the attendant explains. “You’ve been upgraded. We were just informed minutes ago.”

“Upgraded? First class?” Confusion washes over her as she stands in front of a growing line of impatient passengers.

“Move it, woman!” a man yells from behind her.

“Shut it!” she snaps, feeling her temper flare.

The attendant continues to ease the tension. “Ma’am, you can exit here and go to that line. This is for economy; that one is for first class.”

“But I—”

“Please, ma’am,” the attendant urges.

Clarence has no choice but to leave the line and pass by the big man with the goatee who shouted at her. “You think you own the aircraft, huh?” he sneers.

“Well, I’m in first class, and you’re not!” she shoots back, a wave of defiance washing over her.

Still confused about how the upgrade happened, she lines up again, presenting her flight pass. Once on the plane, she’s escorted to her seat. The vastness of first class feels overwhelming, but she tries to play it cool, masking her awe.

“Excuse me,” she calls to a passing flight attendant.

“Yes, ma’am?” the attendant replies, her tone polite.

“May I know when I was upgraded?”

The attendant pauses to check before returning. “Just about 45 minutes ago, ma’am.”

“Forty-five minutes ago? By who?” Her voice rises, a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“I’m not entitled to that information, ma’am. But is there anything else you’d like? We have champagne, tea...”

“Champagne? Okay, one glass, please.”

The attendant smiles, moving to fulfill her request.

Clarence sinks deeper into her seat, the plush cushion surrounding her like a warm hug. She fluffs the pillow behind her and closes her eyes, trying to relax.

And then it hits her.

Albert!

That was weeks ago when she was booking her flight ticket.

“Are you doing something right now?” Albert had asked, his voice casual.

Clarence’s heart had raced at the memory, a mix of annoyance and warmth flooding her. She could almost see his cheeky grin, like he was right there, making her feel flustered and amused all over again.

“Yeah, I am, but it’s okay. I can still talk. I’m good at multitasking,” she had said, smiling to herself as she adjusted in her seat, hoping he didn’t notice the nervous edge to her voice.

“What are you up to?”

“Booking flights,” she had leaned back, tapping her fingers nervously on her knee, glancing at the screen with half a mind on him.

“You’re heading to London, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Clarence had replied, distracted, still clicking through options, her thoughts now swirling with memories of their last conversation.

“When’s your flight?”

“Uh, May 30,” she had muttered, still lost in thought, the sound of his voice lingering in her mind.

“What airline?”

“British Airways or Ryanair,” she had answered absentmindedly.

“Ugh, I can’t stand that airline. Choose British Airways; they’ve got the best alcohol on board. Plus, the crew is rather lovely.” His British accent had slipped effortlessly into her imagination, smooth and persuasive as ever.

“I was thinking the same, but it’s just a two-hour flight.” A light laugh had escaped her, imagining him rolling his eyes in that teasing way of his.

“Why not? You deserve to enjoy the best, even if it’s just for a short while.”

Clarence had paused, giggling silently to herself, feeling the warmth rise to her cheeks. “Still, okay! I will live every second with the best.”

There had been a silence for a moment, and she’d felt a flutter of nerves.

“Clarence,” Albert had said, his voice suddenly serious. “You’ve got 90 days in London. I think it’s only fair we meet up.”

Clarence had clicked on a flight option, her stomach tightening at the thought. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you scared of me?” His voice had been playful, but there was an edge she could hear through the teasing.

“No, it’s not that. I have personal rules about people from work. I don’t do socials with them.” She’d bitten her lip, hoping he wouldn’t push any further.

“What’s so wrong about it?”

“Just to avoid awkward situations or troubles.” She had glanced around, feeling an urge to escape the conversation.

“Drifting from experience?”

“Yeah,” she had replied, feeling her defenses rise with each word.

“Go on, then.”

“Well, sometimes people are different when we don’t talk about work. Like, Albert, what will we discuss when we meet? Insomnia?”

“Chopin, Mozart, Lady Gaga?” His teasing tone had made her laugh, despite herself.

“But you don’t like those. Surely, we have nothing in common.” She had shaken her head, trying to dismiss the growing interest that had started to sneak into her thoughts.

“But we’re managing to chat even without a specific topic. I reckon we could get by an hour.”

“Sorry, dude. I can’t. I just cross my fingers we never bump into each other.”

“Oh, Clarence, the likelihood of that is endless.”

Clarence shakes her head now, looking out the airplane window, the memory of Albert’s voice still playing on repeat in her mind.

Suddenly, Clarence’s eyes snap open. Her hand instinctively reaches for her phone, dialing the culprit, her pulse still racing from the earlier conversation.

“Yes, Ms. del Prado?” Albert’s voice floats through the phone, casual as ever.

“You messed up my flight!” she says, her voice a little sharper than intended, frustration bubbling up.

A chuckle rumbles from the other end, and Clarence can almost picture him, that infuriatingly charming smirk plastered on his face. “Try their tea set; it’ll calm your nerves.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her eyes even though she can’t help but smile just a little at his tone. He’s so maddeningly confident.

Before she can retort, he hangs up, leaving her with a head full of tangled thoughts, equal parts frustrated and amused. The plane’s engines hum to life, the doors close with a finality that seems to echo in her chest. She leans back in her seat, the soft hum of the plane and the quiet thrill of their banter mixing in her mind.

Twenty minutes into the air, Clarence can’t quite believe what’s happening. Her mind is still reeling. How on earth did Albert get a hold of her flight details? Had he actually called British Airways just to track her down? A million questions swirl in her head as she looks around at her surroundings, feeling like she’s landed in some alternate universe. The elegant crowd around her seems so... polished. And her seat—her first-class seat—feels like it’s from a dream.

She takes in the luxurious pod, her eyes darting around in disbelief. The seat is more like a throne than a chair, all soft leather and spacious enough for her to stretch out fully. There’s a fluffy blanket and a pillow already arranged beside her, and a sleek console that looks like it could control her entire life. She can adjust the lighting, the seat recline, even transform it into a bed if she feels like it. It’s too much, really.

A glossy wooden table slides out from beneath the console, large enough to fit a full meal. Just underneath it, there’s a hidden compartment with noise-canceling headphones, a plush eye mask, and slippers so soft they make her wonder if she’s been living a lie all these years. Oh, and there’s a tiny flower in a vase by the window—really, it’s the little things.

Before she can fully process her new reality, a stewardess glides over with a pristine tea set. The jasmine tea is a delicate scent in the air, accompanied by tiny sandwiches and cakes that look too pretty to eat. Clarence stares at the tray, her eyes widening. God, Albert... Who are you? she thinks, her mind a swirl of curiosity and confusion.

The stewardess pours the tea with practiced elegance, and Clarence’s hands tremble as she reaches for the cup. She takes a sip, and as the floral warmth spreads through her, she feels a little less tense. Maybe Albert was right about the tea after all—it’s like magic, calming her nerves in an instant.

She sets the cup down, sighing. Placing the plush eye mask over her eyes, she leans back into the chair, telling herself to just let go and enjoy this wildly unexpected, and incredibly extravagant, ride.

After a two-hour nap, Clarence wakes up just as the Airbus begins to taxi. She moves like a robot on autopilot: stand, line up, exit, navigate through immigration, then head down to the baggage carousel. Each step feels like part of a checklist she’s been given. Bags in tow and a new SIM card in hand, she finally makes it to the arrivals gate.

“Clarence!” A light, refined voice slices through the crowd. Clarence squints, scanning the throng of people.

“Over here, angel voice!” A hand waves through the mass, parting the sea of bodies like a breath of fresh air. And there, standing poised and elegant, is Susan—Albert’s sister, or as he calls her, Suzie. Clarence’s heart does a little flutter. She instinctively looks around for Albert, but there’s no sign of him.

As she gets closer, both women hesitate, caught between a handshake and a hug.

“You disappeared!” Clarence exclaims, her voice full of surprise and excitement.

“I know! Busy times!” Suzie says, her British accent chic and polished, like something straight out of a Gemma Chang movie. “But really, who else would my dear uncle trust to collect you?” She raises an eyebrow and gives a teasing smirk. “And honestly, it’s lovely to see you.” She reaches out, lightly touching Clarence’s arm before glancing at her luggage.

At a subtle signal from Suzie, two men in perfectly tailored suits step forward to collect Clarence’s bags. Reflexively, she grips the handle for just a second, as if trying to protect her things like a mother cat.

“Don’t worry,” Suzie reassures her with a calm, practiced tone. “We’ll get you where you need to go.” She gestures to a sleek black Audi with a uniformed driver waiting by the door.

Clarence follows, still scanning her surroundings. The car’s interior is too fancy for her comfort—seats facing each other, creating an intimate yet spacious vibe. She slides into the plush seat, still processing everything. “You didn’t have to do this. Where’s your uncle, by the way?” she asks, still a little dazed.

“He’s in a meeting in Liverpool,” Suzie replies with a slight roll of her eyes. “But don’t think it’s a bother. You did wonders for him, I guess. He’s not like this with other people. Good sleep makes people kinder, I suppose.”

Clarence shifts in her luxurious seat, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable with all this extravagance. “So, Suze, what exactly does your uncle do?”

Suzie gives a delicate, nonchalant wave. “You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she says smoothly, without missing a beat. “But you’re probably exhausted. Rest for now; you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Clarence leans back, her mind racing with curiosity. There’s something about the Huangs—something mysterious. She knows they’re wealthy, but how did they get this way? The questions keep bubbling up in her mind.

The Audi pulls up to a charming street lined with classic brownstone apartments, their brick facades exuding old-world character. Clarence steps out, her heart fluttering with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Thank you, Suze,” she says, her voice a little shaky, betraying her nervous excitement.