A middle-aged man in a suit diligently typed into a laptop. Glossy-looking executive brochures littered the adjoining empty seat. Behind him, a young couple were having an animated conversation over the backs of their seats with an equally young, equally animated couple behind them. They looked like undergraduate students holidaying together. One of the young men put an arm around the young woman next to him as they chatted amiably, drawing her close.
Jake smiled as he passed by. There was nothing quite like young love; the kind that brought with it no baggage from past relationships. That was the kind of relationship he and Eleanor had shared. Things had been simple. She had been his first, and he had stayed faithful to her through university, after which timethey had married.
There had been no question over the fact that he would have spent the rest of his life with her, and he had always sincerely hoped that, once they eventually came towards the end of their life together, he would go first. But the end of their time together had come upon them with frightening speed. A few short years was all they’d had, and he had no son or daughter to remember her by. That was the absolute worst part – she’d been pregnant when he’d lost her. He’d never forgive Marcus for encouraging her to go skiing on Christmas Day. If only she hadn’t gone, she’d still be there. He couldn’t change what had happened; couldn’t change the past. Since then, he had been drifting through empty relationships, all complicated by his inability to let go and move on.
There was one light at the end of the tunnel, one beacon to guide him back to shore – maybe. The first chance he got, if Faye would just answer her phone, or respond to his messages, Jake intended to attempt an apology. To try and make amends, somehow. He was obviously still in her bad books for spoiling Natty with too many toys.
At the end of the aisle, the toilets were occupied. Jake considered returning to his seat, but he could hear the rattle of the trolley behind the curtain in first class, and guessed that by the time he returned to his seat, the trolley would be making its way down the aisle, blocking his much-needed access to the facilities. He decided to stay put and wait.
The trolley stopped rattling. ‘Would you like anything to drink, sir?’ came a voice on the other side of the curtain that separated first-class travellers from their poorer counterparts.
‘Brandy.’
Jake looked puzzled and took a step closer to the curtain.
‘Would there be anything else, sir?’
He listened intently, knowing he must be mistaken.
‘No, that will be all, thank you.’
Jake wasn’t mistaken. He tore at the curtain and bounded into first class, colliding with the flight attendant.The trolley she had been wheeling up the centre aisle jerked violently, spilling assorted tiny bottles of alcoholic beverages to the floor and toppling a pile of badly-stacked empty foil meal containers right into the lap of a man in the aisle seat.
‘I’m so sorry!’ said Jake to the flight attendant. In his haste, he had forgotten about the trolley making its inevitable journey towards him behind the curtain. He bent down, attempting to catch the tiny bottles as they rolled around on the floor. He piled them into the crook of his arm while the flight attendant apologised profusely to the aisle seat passenger as she cleared his lap of the leftovers. ‘I’m so sorry, all my fault,’ said the flight attendant, although it clearly wasn’t.
As Jake stood up, she turned to relieve him of the bottles and her perma-smile vanished; she recognised him from standard class. ‘Sir, you’re not allowed back here; this is for first-class passengers only.’
Jake scanned the passengers behind her. ‘I just thought I heard a familiar voice.’
‘What – from right down there?’ she pointed past Jake’s head, presumably meaning his seat.
‘Well, no. I was waiting in your little area there and …’
‘Sir, that area is for flight attendants only.’
Jake sighed heavily; he could tell this was one argument he wasn’t going to win.
The flight attendant continued pulling the trolley. Jake had no option but to back up. ‘I just wanted to take a look.’
Forced to re-trace his steps, Jake bobbed his head left and right, trying to get a look at the seated passengers in first class, but the flight attendant, who was tall, was blocking his view.
‘You nearly knocked me over,’ she commented to Jake, thenturned her head to those seated, asking, ‘Any more drinks, sir, madam?’ The perma-smile back was in place.
‘I was a bit over-enthusiastic,’ Jake agreed. He flashed a smile, turning on the charm. It might work. Otherwise, he’d just get out his cheque book and pay for a damn seat in first class. There were plenty of free seats ‘I was a clumsy oaf,’ he added, still smiling. ‘Are you alright?’ He falsely exuded concern.
It worked. The flight attendant instantly became more amenable.
‘Yes,’ she said, although some of her hair, which she was wearing up in a neat bun, had fallen to her shoulders. Still, she smiled at Jake, and he smiled back as she wheeled the trolley into the tiny compartment. She did not, Jake noticed, immediately close the curtain on first class.
‘May I take a look?’ Jake said smoothly, indicating the cabin ahead. He didn’t want to create a scene; not just yet, anyway. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’ He gave her a charming smile. ‘I promise.’
She looked up at the ceiling and folded her arms as if an old boyfriend had just apologised and told her how beautiful she looked. She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, go on then.’
Jake kept his smile plastered to his face until he got the other side of the curtain. He surveyed the backs of people’s heads until he found who he was looking for. On the left, halfway up the aisle, he spied a mop of black hair. Unmistakable. Unbelievable. Jake glided up the aisle, trying to control his temper.
Six rows up, Jake sat down next to Marcus. Jake checked him over just to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him; that this wasn’t just some unfortunate passenger who had a passing resemblance and the voice to match.
It was Marcus all right, his glass of brandy sitting on the little table in front of him. His eyes were closed, his head was tilted back on the leather headrest, and he was wearing a pair ofheadphones. Jake could hear faint opera music. He looked very pleased with himself.
