Preface

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will soon land at London Heathrow Airport. Please return to your seats now. The Captain has switched on the seat belt signs and you should switch off any electronic devices as they may interfere with the aircraft electronic systems. Cabin Crew: ten minutes to landing..."

Joseph McEwan gazes out of the aircraft window as a panorama of suburban London stretches out in front of him, hidden and then revealed by gaps in the cloud as the 'plane descends. He turns and looks at his wife Jennifer as she stirs in her seat, dozing in the space between sleep and wakefulness.

Joseph had not expected his holiday to end this way. He had not expected to return with his wife. He thought he and Jennifer's parents had gone to Stockholm to bid Jennifer a final 'farewell' and admit to themselves and to one another that Jennifer had gone forever. He had been planning to return and restart his life over, perhaps with a new partner. Yet, here she was - but who was she now?

The Jennifer of memory was slim. This girl is muscular. Jennifer was pale and creamy. This girl is deep brown. Jennifer had short spiky hair. This girl is bald – not even shaven, but bald. Jennifer had brown – or blonde hair, according to her whim. This girl has no hair, except for eyebrows. Jennifer spoke English and Swedish. This girl mutters in her sleep in a language Joseph has not heard and does not understand.

The aircraft is much lower now and Joe can pick out the pagoda in Kew Gardens and the smart suburbs of south-west London. He feels reassured by their solid familiarity. Trees. Streets of houses topped with grey slates. Larger houses with gardens and red tile roofs.

The forces generated in the aircraft as it turns and banks and descends, the noise in the cabin as the engines slow, then power up, the groaning as the ailerons extend and then extend again to increase wing area and lift as the aircraft makes its controlled descent, all these finally disturb the sleeping girl. She opens her eyes and manages a smile. Her hand searches out for Joe's arm and squeezes it, for company and reassurance.

Joe glances once more out of the window. The buildings near the airport are much lager now and speeding by. The airport perimeter fence flashes past beneath the starboard wing. The aircraft yaws slightly left, then right and there is a solid bump as the main wheels connect with the tarmac and a more gentle bump as the nose wheel makes contact and the aircraft levels.

A moment later, the cabin fills with the roar of the thrust reversers and Joe feels himself thrown forward against his seat belt as the aircraft slows faster than he does.

The noise of the engines fades and as the plane turns off the main runway a voice says, "Welcome to London Heathrow Airport Terminal Five. We are now taxiing to our stand. Please remain in your seats until the aircraft has come to a complete stop and the seat belt sign is 'off'. After the aircraft has come to a standstill, please be careful when opening the overhead lockers as items may have become dislodged during the flight and could fall out and cause injury. Please note that you are not allowed to smoke in the Terminal Building. We hope you have enjoyed your flight. It has been a pleasure to look after you and we look forward to welcoming you again on board another British Airways flight soon."

Jennifer, faced with a barrage of instructions feels re-assured. Nowadays, she likes instructions and orders. It keeps her grounded. If she follows orders and instructions she does not get punishes and often, nice things happen.

Joe faced with the prospect of another flight feels exhausted at the mere suggestion. 'Another flight? No thank you' he thinks. 'No more flights.' He just wants to get back to the security of home. He just wants to get his wife back home, too. Whoever she is now.

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