Serial Part 1: Coming Home

Two women whose paths would never normally have crossed are flying home to New York for New Year. Both of them are more afraid than they’ve ever been, but for very different reasons

When Meredith Harper looked back over her life, it was with a general sense of satisfaction. Keeping hold of that thought was vitally important. If she let it, her mind would tie itself in knots and beat her into submission, and convince her that her entire life had been riddled with trauma and mistakes. Which it hadn’t. She couldn’t give in. For the next eight hours, Meredith would be hostage to her memories, but she was in charge. She had to remember that salient point. It was up to her if she focused on the very few moments, almost individual seconds if she was honest, that had broken her. Or not. For decades of her 73 years, she had been happy. And not in a shallow, superficial way. No, she had been properly, deeply content for years at a time. Those were the things to recall. Remember those.

The cabin lights were bright. So bright they made her eyes water. In her day, it had been different. But then, in her day, she’d rarely walked this far down the plane. And the planes had been tiny compared to this monster. Working and flying with

Pan Am in the 60s and 70s had been nothing like this. What was it the media called this? Something like ‘cattle class’, and she could see why. The only saving grace she could find was that the cabin seemed less than half full, and as she’d arrived as late as possible at the gate, there were very few other passengers left to board. This wasn’t going to be a full flight. It wasn’t a surprise. Who in their right mind, except indecisive relics like Meredith, would choose to travel on one of the last transatlantic flights on New Year’s Eve? Anyone who truly cared where they were going would be gone by now. They’d be hugging their loved ones and snuggling beside them in New York or beyond, readying themselves to sing Auld Lang Syne. She glanced again at her boarding pass, already sure that she’d reached her cramped little seat. The truth of it was Meredith Harper loathed the idea of returning home to the US. Especially tonight. Especially after 20 years of not flying or setting foot in her home country. Especially because her dying sister needed her. Especially because Meredith couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing her again.

The truth was Meredith loathed the idea of returning home to the US

Jenna Harris stared through the plane’s oval window, wishing to God they would just go. Swallowing hard didn’t take away the dread that had knotted itself firmly at the base of her throat. Nor did digging her fingernails into the flesh of her hands. Nor did repeatedly counting the terminal lights that blinked at her through the dark. The tarmac was wet. Did that matter? It was windy.

That would.

Where had this awful, irrational fear of flying come from? It had crept up on her in the last few years, bit by bit, as she trekked back and forth across the Atlantic. At first, it had been a gentle flutter in her gut when they hit a patch of turbulence. Then, leaving JFK one night, she’d been so suddenly floored by a tsunami of anxiety that the poor man sitting beside her had called the flight attendant. Eventually, she’d calmed down. Enough to curl in a tight ball, cover herself in a blanket and disappear behind eye shades for the duration of the flight. Back in London, her agency sent her to a shrink. Who in turn told her she was stressed. Well, she could have told them that.

The side of the plane vibrated and she knew that meant the doors were being closed. Her heart thundered. They were

off. Her hand hesitated over the window blind, desperate to pull it down as they taxied. But she would only be asked to raise it again. Why, oh why, had they booked her a window seat?

And why hadn’t she noticed at check-in? She’d move as soon as she could. The plane, thank God, was virtually empty.

She’d sneak into the middle seats the second they were in the air. Or ask for an upgrade. Ahead of her, an elegant, elderly woman walked towards her row, holding herself very upright and glancing from the boarding pass in her hand up to the seat numbers above. Before it even happened, Jenna knew the woman would sit in the seat next to her, blocking her in. She just knew it. And then, of course, she did.

The woman smiled at her as she made herself comfortable, and Jenna forced a brief one in return. The woman travelled light. No hand luggage for the locker, just a small, expensive handbag that she held neatly on her lap as she put on her seat belt. It could have been worse, Jenna thought, turning back to the window. A large, talkative man could have sat there. The pilot began a jolly chat over the intercom, wishing them all a wonderful New Year and taking them through the route for their journey. Jenna tried to shut him out. She didn’t want to hear that the flight would take longer than usual due to strong headwinds. She didn’t care that the airline would be showing a variety of uplifting films on the crossing. She wouldn’t watch any of them. The plane jolted and pulled slowly away from the terminal. Jenna closed her eyes and for the first time that day allowed herself to think of Blake. His face. His lips. The way he would hold her so tightly at the airport that the breath would leave her chest. His smile. His love. Her heart cried out for him. Painfully. Silently. Now they were finally leaving, she could look forward again. Not back. Now, she could fall apart.

... ... Meredith hadn’t meant to stare at the young woman sitting huddled against the window, but she couldn’t help it. All the way through taxiing, and then take-off itself, she had been hunched over, her eyes firmly shut, her hands gripping the armrests. Dressed all in black, her long, dark hair hanging in skeins across her face, there could be no disguising her beauty – or her fear. The sight of her had made Meredith’s own stomach tighten. Had it really been over 40 years since she’d last served passengers like this? Mostly, they said they wanted to be left alone. But that wasn’t the best way. All that did was let them wallow in their anxiety, giving it oxygen, building it up into something completely overwhelming. In her book, a tea or coffee, and a good long chat to distract them, had always been better. At least it had back then. Everything was different these days. But not people? They surely still felt the same way they always had? Love. Pain. Fear. Those things were universal and static, weren’t they? An unwanted image of her sister,

Lainey, filled her head. Not as she would probably look now, grey and feeble. Not as Meredith would see her tomorrow. But as she had been then: young, vibrant, blonde, smiling. Married. Deceitful. Selfish. No, people never changed.

Meredith turned in her seat, feeling the judder of the landing gear come up beneath them as they nosed their way high into the black night sky. Gently, she placed her outstretched hand on the young woman’s arm.

‘I’m Meredith Harper,’ she said, hoping the woman would respond. ‘I thought it best to introduce myself as we’re going to be companions for the next few hours.’

The young woman’s grip on her seat redoubled, but she opened her eyes and turned slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I’d really rather not talk,’ she said. Meredith nodded. ‘I know.’ The young woman arched an eyebrow. The gesture said it all – an unspoken ‘If you know it, why don’t you back off?’ Their eyes locked.

‘Do you have a name?’ Meredith asked.

‘Yes.’ The reply came with a truculent nod of her head that made Meredith smile. She’d been like that once. Unassailable. Confident. So unquestioning of her youth and looks. So unaware of the supremacy it gave her. Nowadays, she was lucky if she made lunchtime without one or both of her knees giving out on her.

‘Can you humour an old woman and share it?’

‘I’m sorry I’d really rather not talk,’ said the woman

Meredith asked. As she spoke, the plane turned heavily, the window beside them rotating down towards the ground. There was nothing to see in the black sky. All they could see and feel was just the constant blinking of the wing beacons and the uncomfortable rolling of the cabin. The young woman reached up for the window blind and yanked it shut.

‘Pretty soon we’ll level up and head out across the sea. We’ll reach our cruising altitude and the captain will turn out the seat-belt sign.

You should start to feel a bit better then.’

‘Look, I know you’re just trying to be polite,’ the young woman said slowly, ‘But I have flown many times before.’

‘Oh, OK.’ Meredith looked away. Her thoughts changed to why had she had her hair cut just before the trip. What was she trying to prove?

That she wasn’t as old as she felt? That she would, on this occasion at least, look better than her sister? Her dying sister. How pathetic was she, trying to outdo a woman on the verge of death? It didn’t matter that the only feeling she had for her sister was something close to hatred, it was still pitiful to be so wrong-footed by having to see her again. Without giving it any thought, she turned back to the young woman and opened her mouth.

‘I haven’t seen my sister in over 20 years and I really don’t like her, but I’m going home now to see her once more before she dies,’ Meredith said.

... ...

The words sat between them. Jenna didn’t have any sisters, only brothers. And she loved them dearly, so the concept of disliking either was foreign to her. The plane levelled, just as the older woman had said it would, and still Jenna stared at her, unable to respond. Where did she start? Part of her wanted to ask the quietly spoken American woman to leave her alone; to move and let her out of the row so she could talk her way into first class and travel to New York in a state of luxurious uneasiness. She didn’t want to hear about someone else’s pain. Not tonight. But another part of her couldn’t help but look into the woman’s eyes, dulled by age no doubt, and see her own mother staring back. The mother she had buried in a London graveyard less than eight hours before, her funeral slipped into a Sunday to relieve the backlog from the week before. The mother who would never again stroke her hair and tell her how much she was loved. The mother who had repeatedly reassured her that she wasn’t that ill, and that there was nothing to worry about. The mother who never made her feel guilty for hardly visiting. The mother who could now no longer hold her tight and tell her how proud she was of her amazing daughter.

Jenna released her grip on the armrests and took a deep breath. What she was about to say, to a complete stranger, was truly shocking. But it seemed the only possible reply. It was pure, brutal honesty. ‘I went to my mother’s funeral today,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘She was my best friend, and I have no idea how I’ll carry on without her.’

The woman’s arms around her were as quick as they were comforting. Jenna sobbed.

‘Oh, you poor love,’ the woman said, softly pushing the hair back from Jenna’s face. It was the touch of a mother. They were the words of one too. Slowly, Jenna leant further into the woman’s body, her head still dipped, the day’s raw emotion draining from her. This wasn’t how she’d imagined the journey would be. But it was precisely what she needed.

... ...

They both drank a brandy and reclined their seats. After dinner, served by a tinselfestooned flight attendant, Meredith and Jenna slipped into a contented silence and for the first time since take-off, Meredith’s mind had the opportunity to whirl. Jenna had reminded her twice that the bouncy redhead who now served tea and coffee was no longer called a stewardess. Meredith had nodded and smiled. She knew it, but the word had been engrained in her vocabulary for so long, it was virtually impossible to forget. As she watched the redhead smile for the hundredth time and laugh at yet another corny festive joke, Meredith smiled too. God, she missed those days. The freedom. The sheer excitement of not knowing how each day would pan out, hopping from one continent to another. And then, of course, there had been the men. Not quite hopping from one bed to another, but not always that far from it. It still made her blush when she remembered some of her beaux, but by then she was already frozen inside. None of them melted her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to make the mental jump from men in general to just one in

She didn’t want to hear about someone else’s pain. Not tonight

waving goodbye to her as she finally dragged herself air-side. He had wanted to come with her, but his kids were in town and his ex was so inflexible.

‘So it’s Blake and his kids that you’re heading home to?’

Jenna nodded. ‘We slipped away a few months ago and got married. We’re basing ourselves in New York because of the children, but I’m not sure that I’d call it home yet.’

‘What about the rest of your family? Are they in London?’

‘Yeah,’ Jenna said, leaving it at that. The truth was, she hardly ever saw them, even when she was in the UK. Modelling had turned her into a neurotic, sleep-deprived, constant traveller. But she was hooked. At least, she had been for the decade or so before she met Blake. Things weren’t quite so simple anymore. And now, with Mum gone, nothing felt permanent. Except him.

She glanced back at Meredith. Her eyes shone again, either with tears or the brightness of the cabin lights. At some point soon, they’d be turned down and they could both get some rest. She held out her hand towards Meredith. There was so much more to this graceful woman than met the eye, she was sure of it. Two hours early, she wouldn’t have cared a jot but now it really mattered to her if Meredith was happy or not. They weren’t so very different to one another, Jenna thought. They both forged an outward appearance that staved off closer inspection. If the outside wrapping looked sorted, then the inner person was too, at least that was what strangers were meant to think. Most of the time it worked.

But you couldn’t kid a kidder.

‘What is it?’ Jenna asked. ‘What’s really bothering you?’

Meredith gave a weak smile. ‘I’m...’ Her voice petered out.

‘You’re what?’

Meredith took a deep breath and forced the words out. ‘I’m not just heading home for my sister. There’s someone else I need to see too. And there’s something I have to atone for. Something bad that I did in New York almost 50 years ago.’

Jenna’s stomach tightened. Carefully, she placed her hand on Meredith’s. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Meredith sighed and turned to face her. Tears brimmed from her eyes. ‘I’m not sure you’d understand. Things were so different back then.’ ‘Try me.’ Jenna said.

For several moments, Meredith stared at her, her eyes searching Jenna’s. Eventually, she spoke, calmly and deliberately, choosing each word as though it were her last. ‘In February 1968

I did something that I’ve regretted every day of my life since. It was a Tuesday. There was a sprinkling of snow on the ground and it was one of those desperately cold

New York days, you know?’

Jenna nodded.

‘What takes a young woman across the Atlantic on New Year’s Eve?’

‘If it hadn’t been for my sister, things would have been very different. But she persuaded me. No, that’s not right. She virtually bullied me into it. I was 24 years old and had been called up by Pan Am.’ Meredith hesitated, and looked up at Jenna. ‘She told me my life was perfect and I was dumb enough to believe her.’ ‘Meredith, what did you do?’ ‘I had a baby.’

Jenna grasped Meredith’s hand tightly. ‘But that was good, right?’

Meredith’s face was a sea of tears. ‘No,’ she sobbed, shaking her head. ‘Not if you gave it away, like it meant nothing to you. Not if you never saw it again.’

CONTINUES NEXT ISSUE