As we neared the airport, the silhouette of the control tower rose like a lighthouse against the lightening sky. The first hint of pink bled into the charcoal clouds over Hounslow. "Almost there," Arthur said, his eyes meeting mine via the rearview mirror. It was the first time he’d looked at me in forty minutes. "Which airline?" "British Airways," I said. He nodded, steering the cab onto the departure ramp with the precision of a pilot landing a plane. The cab swerved into the designated drop-off lane, the tires giving a final, sharp hiss as we slowed to a stop. https://topcarsminicab.co.uk/