In the hush of the businessclass cabin a thin strain of tension lingered. Passengers cast furtive glances at the frail old lady as soon as she eased herself into her seat. Yet it was she who drew the aircrafts captains attention as the flight drew to a close.
Ethel Whitaker, nervous, lowered herself into the armchair, and the air instantly crackled with a quarrel.
Im not sitting beside that woman! boomed a man of about forty, his eyes fixed on her plain dress as he turned to the stewardess. His name was Victor Clarke, and he wore his arrogance like a badge.
Excuse me, sir, but the passenger holds a ticket for that seat. We are not at liberty to alter it, the stewardess replied, calm despite Victors lingering stare.
These seats are far too dear for folk like her, he sneered, looking around as if seeking allies.
Ethel remained silent, though inside her heart clenched. She wore her finest dress simple, neat, the only one she owned for such an occasion.
A few other travellers exchanged looks, some nodding in Victors direction.
At last the old woman lifted a trembling hand and whispered, Its all right If theres a place in economy, Ill step down. Ive saved for this flight all my life and I do not wish to trouble anyone
Ethel was eightyfive, and this was her first ever flight. The journey had been hard for her: endless corridors, bustling terminals, interminable waits. An airport attendant had even been assigned to keep her from losing her way. Now, with only a handful of hours left until her longawaited dream, she found herself humbled.
The stewardess stood firm. Im sorry, madam, but you have paid for this ticket and you have every right to be here. Do not let anyone take that from you. She turned a steely gaze on Victor and added coldly, If you do not desist, I will summon security.
Victor muttered in displeasure and fell silent.
The aircraft rose into the clouds. In her agitation Ethel dropped her handbag, and, without a word, Victor bent to help gather her belongings. As he handed it back, his eye caught the pendant hanging from her neck, the stone a deep, bloodred hue.
A lovely locket, he said. Looks like a ruby. I know a thing or two about antiques; such a piece isnt cheap.
Ethel smiled faintly. I have no notion of its value It was given to my mother by my father before he went off to war and never returned. She passed it to me when I turned ten. She opened the locket, revealing two faded photographs: a young couple in one, a smiling little boy in the other. Those are my parents and here is my son.
Victor asked gently, Are you flying to see him?
No, Ethel answered, eyes dropping. I placed him in an orphanage as an infant. I had no husband, no work, and could not give him a proper life. Years later a DNA test led me to him. I wrote, but he said he did not wish to know me. She paused, her voice trembling. Today would have been his birthday. I only wanted to be near him for a moment.
Victor stared, bewildered. Then why the flight?
A weak smile flickered on the old womans lips, sorrow holding her gaze. He is the commander of this very flight. This is the only way I can be near him, even if only for a glance.
Victor fell silent, shame flooding his cheeks. He lowered his head.
The stewardess, having heard everything, slipped away toward the cockpit.
A few minutes later the captains voice rang through the cabin. Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon begin our descent into Heathrow. Before that, I would like to address a special lady on board. Mother please remain after landing. I wish to see you.
Ethels breath caught. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and a hush fell over the cabin, broken only by soft applause and smiles through the tears.
When the aircraft touched down, the captain broke protocol, rushed from the cockpit, and, eyes shining, threw himself at Ethel. He clasped her tightly, as if to reclaim the years lost. Thank you, Mother, for everything you have done for me, he whispered, holding her close.
Ethel wept in his arms. There is nothing for me to forgive. I have always loved you
Victor stood apart, his head bowed in shame. He finally understood that beneath the worn clothes and the lines of age lay a tale of great sacrifice and boundless love.
It was more than a flight. It was a reunion of two hearts torn apart by time, yet somehow found each other again.
