Destination India. Katy Colins

idea. At least thirty other tired-looking people were patiently waiting in the queue ahead of me, and Shelley being Shelley was running late. The minutes ticked past and the doors still weren’t opening; I was cold, miserable and really didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was Shelley?

      ‘This your first time?’ the tall Indian man in front of me asked as I strained my neck past his shoulder for the umpteenth time to see what the hold-up was. It was now two minutes past nine and there was no sign of the rusty shutters being raised.

      ‘Oh, erm, yep,’ I replied not wanting to get into conversation with anyone.

      His pale, hazel-coloured eyes circled with a ring of olive green creased as he laughed. ‘I could tell. You know they say that this is the first step in your preparation for going to India.’ He paused, half smiling at me.

      ‘What’s that then?’ I stared at him, taking in how good-looking he was. His brooding eyes seemed to pop from his light brown skin and designer stubble; his thick mane of black hair screamed tug me and his crooked smile was bashful but playful at the same time.

      ‘Patience.’ He laughed.

      Despite how absolutely gorgeous this guy was, I was in no mood to fall under his spell; I had far too much I needed to be getting on with to even think about what his body looked like under his classic, well-fitted suit.

      I huffed. ‘We’re not in India; we’re in Manchester where things open at the time they’re supposed to.’

      He just shook his head in mirth. ‘If you think this is testing, wait till you get over there. You will learn things about yourself that you never would have discovered in a million years. Oh, and you’re going to love it.’

      I knew his type: fit but he knew it, full of condescending arrogance thinking because he fell from heaven he was somehow better than you.

      ‘I think I know myself pretty well, thank you,’ I retorted with a tight smile, wishing this queue would hurry up and move so I didn’t have to look at his annoying, smug face. I was going to be fine in India. Fine.

      ‘Georgia! I’m here!’ Shelley called out, running over red-faced and waving at me. ‘Excuse me; my friend’s saved me a place.’ She pushed her way down the line, pretending not to see the looks of disgust and hear the irritated huffs and puffs from the queue. ‘Sorry I’m late, hon,’ she said breathlessly, fanning her flushed cheeks with her phone. ‘God look at this queue. Could you not have got one of your contacts to sort this out for us?’

      ‘If I could have I would have, trust me.’

      She nodded, seemingly picking up on my pissed-off tones. I had so much I needed to be doing thanks to our spontaneous holiday; waiting in line to get a stamp in my passport was not one of them. After realising that our rash, drunken decision didn’t just affect the two of us I’d been trying to make my unplanned leave as seamless as possible, including looking into getting an extra pair of hands to help Ben and Kelli out whilst I was gone. Ben had said that they would be fine but I wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced so thought it would be better if I hired a temp just in case. Ben would thank me; I was sure of it.

      The only problem was that out of the many applicants the local temp agency had emailed over, hardly any seemed suitable. I had made two piles – one of potentials and one of absolute no-nos but I needed to get someone lined up soonish.

      ‘Ah, I see. Well hopefully we’ll be in and out before you know it.’ She smiled. ‘So, how are things? No regrets?’

      ‘No regrets. Apart from I’m never drinking rum again.’ I noticed that buff Bollywood guy had suddenly become engrossed in his phone, thankfully.

      Shelley pulled a face. ‘Me neither. So, how was Ben? Did he mind that you’ve booked this trip? He must be pleased that you’re taking the initiative in sorting out these negative reviews?’

      I hadn’t had time to call her properly since he’d found out. ‘Let’s just say he wasn’t super impressed with my spontaneous decision to go all undercover boss in India. He was more disappointed that I hadn’t mentioned this idea to him first.’

      ‘Oh. Bugger.’ I nodded in agreement. ‘Hey, don’t worry. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Plus, when he realises that this idea was brilliant and we are a pair of masterminds I’m sure he’ll change his mind.’

      ‘I hope so.’ I smiled sadly.

      Suddenly a small pathetic cheer broke out as the doors were finally opened and the throng of people gently pushed forward and filed in. The visa office was as drab on the inside as it was on the outside. A table propped up with a wedge of yellowing newspaper under one wonky leg held leaflets and biro pens tied on with scratty pieces of string to stop anyone from stealing them. Three musky pink coloured counters stood at the back of the cold room and tired-looking employees plodded around putting out plastic chairs for customers to sit on.

      I took a ticket, like at the delicatessen counter in Tesco, and waited our turn, far away from smug Mr India know-it-all, tapping my feet impatiently and hoping they would hurry up and call our number.

      ‘I still can’t believe we’re going to India,’ I said nodding at the large, albeit tatty, poster of the Taj Mahal on the wall opposite.

      ‘I know! It’s going to be amazing.’ Shelley grinned.

      ‘How was Jimmy about it? Not going to be pining for you for too long?’ I teased.

      ‘Probably.’ She let out a throaty laugh. ‘Like I said, absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

      ‘Number thirty-two,’ a robotic voice buzzed over the intercom.

      ‘That’s us!’ I jumped up out of my seat and we rushed over to the booth where a middle-aged woman with thick glasses looked at us expectantly. ‘Hi, we need to get visas for India, please.’ I slid our passports under the grubby glass screen and checked my watch.

      ‘You got your forms?’ Glasses Lady asked in a bored, nasally tone.

      I jerked my head up to face hers. ‘Forms?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Your forms – we need them to process your application.’ She sighed. ‘All this information was on our website.’

      Bloody hell.

      With our customers we simply put them in touch with Sanjay’s visa services and he got on with sorting that aspect out. I didn’t know that there were forms involved.

      ‘Erm, no, we don’t have any forms.’

      The woman sighed and looked at the queue of people behind me. I could feel Mr Smug India’s eyes on me; bet he had bloody forms.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ Shelley piped up.

      ‘We were meant to bring some forms,’ I grumbled.

      ‘Forms? I thought we just got a stamp in our passports and we were on our way?’

      ‘Me too.’ I let out a deep breath and turned to Glasses Lady. ‘Do you have any forms here we could fill in?’

      ‘All the forms are online.’ She was loving the power; you could tell.

      I tried to stay calm. ‘So we need to go home, download the forms, fill them in and print them off then come back here? To join that queue again?’ I was so behind I just didn’t have the time for this.

      ‘Well, they’re the rules.’

      ‘Seriously?’ I gave her my best begging look but she just continued to stare blankly at us.

      ‘Come back with the forms and your passport-sized photos. You do have your passport-sized photos, don’t you?’ I bit my lip and shook my head. ‘Well then, I’d be getting a move on if I was you. We shut in two hours.’

      I flashed her an insincere smile. ‘Great, well thanks for your help. Come on, Shell.’ I turned on my heel and walked to the front door.