Chapter 20
Jake boarded the plane. He felt a twinge of anxiety, and it wasn’t about the flight. He had to admit that he was hoping fate would deal him a good hand and he would find they had double-booked his seat, or the plane would break down before take-off. But in Jake’s experience, fate never dealt people the hand they wanted. None of these things happened.
Jake settled into his window seat and leaned forward to look out at the runway. At least it was going to be a short flight. He closed his eyes. Maybe fate was deliberately dealing him a hand. There he was, on holiday, going to the last place he’d usually consider, all because of a phone call. The weird part was that he had agreed to go at all.
Jake looked at his watch. In around an hour, he would land at Inverness. He needed the bathroom. Checking the seatbelt sign was switched off, he got up and made his way cautiously to the back of the plane, trying to keep his balance and his stomach contents. He was not a good flier.
He made a mental note to take a moment to re-consider next time he jumped in to be a good Samaritan. He knew that William would not venture back to Scotland to meet Martha. And in his experience, Aubrey wouldn’t come to Scotland either. He never once accepted William’s invitation to Christmas dinner with them at their Highland holiday home, The Lake House, in all the years they’d been spending Christmas there. William and Aubrey went way back, but he’d never heard either of them mention Martha or Arnold Wright. This wasn’t too surprising when Jake thought about it. Aubrey was an enigma; he’d known Aubrey all his life, but knew very little about the man. Aubrey kept his past close to his chest. His life was a closed book.
Still, before he caught his flight, Jake decided to phone Aubrey and let him know about his trip. Perhaps he knew this person called Ralph. Maybe he’d decide to come. Aubrey’s phone had gone straight to voicemail. He’d silently cursed himself for not trying to contact him sooner. Now he was committed to going. It just seemed like the right thing to do, even though he had never heard of Martha in his life.
Jake walked through the centre aisle, glancing from side to side at the other passengers as he went by. A couple who looked around retirement age were engrossed in reading a road map. He smiled, thinking they were in for a fantastic time, guessing they were going on a road trip around Scotland.
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 time they 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, then turned 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 of headphones. Jake could hear faint opera music. He looked very pleased with himself.
Before he throttled him to death, Jake wanted to know just how in god’s name he had made this flight. Or even knew Jake would be on board.
Jake tore at the headphones.
‘Hey!’ Marcus sat up in his seat in astonishment.
‘Sir!’
Jake turned in his seat to see the flight attendant storming up the aisle.
The few passengers that were in first class were throwing anxious looks in their direction.
Marcus followed Jake’s gaze. ‘I see the cavalry is coming to rescue me.’ Marcus raised his glass to Jake. ‘First-class service, Jake. Don’t you miss it?’
Jake grabbed his wrist, slopping the brandy down his bandage and Marcus’s sleeve. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Taking a flight – what do you think? How very convenient of you to write your flight time down. I made a call, couldn’t have been simpler. I guessed you were flying out of City Airport.’
Jake glared at him. How did he work out which flight he’d be on. How did he even know he was flying somewhere?
‘Now, I know what you’re thinking,’ said Marcus, studying his face. ‘How did I even know you were travelling from London City Airport? Well, here’s the thing. You can be a bit of a creature of habit, so I’m thinking we’ve flown from this airport a lot for business, and I remember how much you liked it.’
Jake didn’t like it anymore.
Marcus looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He gave a self-satisfied smirk.
Jake grimaced.
Jake wanted to strangle him.
Marcus added, ‘I do love this airport. Just one runway meant I knew with certainty which flight you’d be on because I had the flight time. I was sitting in first class before you even boarded the flight. Although I must admit I was a little surprised you’d chosen to go to Scotland on holiday.’ Marcus looked at his hand. ‘Do you mind letting go of my hand?’
Jake let go roughly, causing Marcus to spill more brandy.
Marcus looked at his glass and shrugged.
Jake watched him finish what was left of his brandy. Marcus smacked his lips and put the glass down. ‘So, what’s the plan? What are we doing when we arrive?’ Marcus caught sight of Jake’s sodden bandage. ‘I bet that hurts.’
Jake’s hand curled into a fist. ‘Not as much as this is going to hurt.’
‘Sir!’ The flight attendant was now standing in the aisle right beside Jake’s seat.
Jake sat there with his soggy, sodden bandaged hand curled into a ball, about to knock Marcus’s lights out. He looked up at the flight attendant.
‘Is everything alright?’ she said to Marcus.
‘Everything alright?’ Marcus barked. ‘Alright?’ Marcus repeated purely for effect. ‘Does it look as though I am alright with some lunatic sitting beside me?’
‘Sir, do you know this gentleman?’
Marcus leaned away from Jake and looked him up and down. ‘Of course I do. He’s my brother-in-law – aren’t you?’
The flight attendant looked from one to the other.
‘Isn’t that right?’ Marcus said to Jake.
Jake nodded slowly. Marcus was wearing an expensive business suit, and despite the crumpled shirt and loosened tie, he still looked very smartly dressed in contrast to Jake’s old jeans, cheap white supermarket shirt and patchy, threadbare wool jacket. Of course, the bandaged hands weren’t helping any.
‘There, you see?’ Marcus looked back at the flight attendant. ‘He says he’s my brother-in-law.’
Jake stared at Marcus.
‘And I think we should all agree with him, don’t you?’
‘I think I understand you, sir,’ the flight attendant said to Marcus.
Jake turned on Marcus. ‘Just what do you think you’re playing at?’
‘Sir. Return to your seat please.’
Jake ignored her. ‘You,’ Jake stabbed at Marcus’s shoulder, ‘are getting the first plane back.’
Marcus shrugged at the flight attendant and held up his hands. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Sir!’
Jake got up. ‘I’m warning you.’ He pointed a finger at Marcus, then turned to go.
Shaking his head, Marcus said with a wan smile, ‘Some people! You just want a quiet holiday and you’ve got lunatics following you around.’
Jake turned slowly back to face Marcus. This was a game Marcus was not going to win.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sir, do I need to call someone to restrain you?’
Jake looked over his shoulder, expecting to see two burly men about to grapple him to the ground. Instead, he saw the anxious faces of the other passengers in first class, who were probably wishing they were anywhere but there, trapped in a cabin thirty thousand feet in the air with a lunatic. His bandaged hands made him look as though he had already been in one fist-fight too many before he had even boarded the plane, and Marcus’s clever little act as the innocent bystander wasn’t helping.
Jake felt himself backing down, thinking, two can play at this game. Perhaps he could have him arrested at the airport. He didn’t know what for. He had an hour to figure that out. But the way things looked right now, Jake had to acknowledge that it was more likely he’d find himself arrested on touch down.
He could see the headline: A trainee teacher on a flight to Scotland attacked his brother-in-law in first class. Sources (meaning Marcus) suggest this mental breakdown was due to the fact that he had never got over the sudden death of his wife in a freak skiing accident.
Jake backed up between the seats into the aisle. As he turned to leave, a wave of heads returned to whatever they were doing – fast. Nobody made eye contact. Nobody wanted to antagonise the lunatic.
The relieved flight attendant escorted Jake back to his seat.
‘Now, please will you stay in your seat for the remainder of the flight?’
Jake turned to look out of the window. A thought occurred to him. ‘Oh, by the way…’
The flight attendant, who was walking up the aisle, slid back and leaned towards him. ‘What is it now?’ she said testily. ‘I do have other passengers to attend to.’
She was getting irritated. Good. ‘Can you tell me what the flight regulations are regarding …’ he lowered his voice, ‘bringing illegal substances on board a flight?’
That got the flight attendant’s attention.
He added, ‘And I’m not talking about prescription drugs.’
She said slowly, ‘What do you mean? Did you bring something in your hand luggage through airport security that you didn’t declare?’
‘Oh, no. Not me.’ Jake unzipped his bag on the seat next to him. ‘See for yourself.’ He rummaged through his bag, showing her his clothes and the contents of a toiletry bag just to make the point. Then he cast his gaze down the aisle towards the first-class cabin. Marcus wasn’t just drinking. Jake didn’t know what substance he was abusing, but Marcus was using something. And he could make a very good bet that he had some of it on him, or at least in his luggage.
The flight attendant followed his gaze. She turned to Jake and answered his question. ‘You can’t bring drugs that are not on prescription through UK airport security.’
‘So, what exactly would happen if someone had done just that?’
‘Are you talking about someone on this flight?’
He slowly nodded his head.
She stared at Jake. ‘I need to speak to my colleague.’
Jake felt his foul mood dissipating rapidly. He looked out of the cabin window. The sun had come out.
The flight attendant returned. She sat down in the seat next to him and whispered, ‘The person in question would be arrested initially, held for twenty-four to forty-eight hours while investigations were made, and a decision would be made whether charges should be brought. They could end up with a criminal record.’
‘Arrested,’ Jake mused. ‘At the airport on landing?’
‘Er, that depends …’
‘On when you make the discovery,’ Jake clarified.
‘Yes.’ Her tone was much more congenial, he noticed. ‘Do you know of someone who you think has brought illegal drugs on board?’
Jake turned to look out of the window and smiled. ‘I do.’
‘Was it the man you were having an altercation with in first class?’
‘Yes, it was.’
For a moment, it crossed his mind that she wouldn’t believe him after that scene with Marcus. He looked at her. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’
‘We take these matters very seriously.’
He turned back to the window and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and smiling to himself. This was going to be one holiday the like of which Marcus had never experienced.