Once on the plane, I made my way down the aisle to seat D65, toward the back of the plane. I had made a conscious decision to stay away from the window and get a centre aisle seat so that I wouldn’t disturb anyone as I got in and out of my seat. The overhead compartment was open, so I pushed my bag in among the others, praying it would stay secure. Picking up the complementary items from my seat, I sat down. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, long breath and gave myself a few seconds before I opened them again. When I did I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was seated with the older couple that I had previously split up in the boarding queue. The gentleman had the opposite aisle seat and his wife sat between us.
“We meet again,” the Englishwoman said with a warm smile of approval.
“Are you travelling alone?” she politely asked, as her husband tried to pack away the bags in their overhead compartment.
“Yes… I have taken a teaching job for a year at Wimborne Minster Boys’ College.”
“How lovely, that is quite courageous of you.”
“Have you travelled to England before?”
“No, no but I’ve always wanted to.”
She lightly touched my arm and introduced herself as Elizabeth Hutting. Again, the unusual chills crept up my arm, but her warm smile instantly melted them away. She looked over to her husband, who was finally seated, and introduced him as Edward.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you, I’m Catherine.”
“It is our pleasure to meet you, Catherine,” Edward replied.
Edward was surprisingly very tall, despite my thinking that he should have shrunk in size given his age. He seemed to fidget a lot, continually looking around, touching and patting everything in front of him. If I didn’t know better I would say he was afraid to fly. On the other hand, Elizabeth sat quietly, her posture relaxed, with little movement.
Minutes later the captain recited his welcome announcements. Once all the formalities were over with, I nestled back into my seat ready for takeoff. I sat quietly for a while, lost in thoughts of my story, Annie and my parents. When I was younger, I had this ridiculous theory that after my parents died, if I got on a plane and was high enough in the sky, I would be closer to them. I smiled at my silly theory and at myself. At the age of 14, it was such a stupid idea that gave me comfort, but now, sadly, I couldn’t have that same reassurance. As I looked down the narrow aisle, I could see the stewardess slowly heading towards me with her silver trolley. Knowing what foods were being offered this evening, I had opted for the crusted beef and ale pie with mash rather than the fish — I didn’t want to risk irritating my stomach.
As I ate what was a really dry meat pie, I overheard a man to my left, in the outer row of seats, imploring a passenger next to him to stay awake for the next 13 hours, as it would give them the best chance of limiting their jetlag and synchronise with Ireland’s timezone. His reasoning was justified but unachievable, I would think.
Maybe sleep was my only option.
And sleep was one thing I hadn’t had enough of recently. I was looking forward to this opportunity to catch up, regardless of any later consequences of jetlag.
When I looked over to my right, Elizabeth had her earphones on and was engrossed in some film and poor Edward seemed to be fighting with his control device. No goodnights were needed, so I lay back in my seat and closed my eyes. I loved sleep, even though I was far from good at it. My nights are always filled with conundrums of another time; Victoria, a woman that has seemed to occupy my dreams most nights, of horses and carriages, balls and royalty. Consequently, most of my spare time had consisted of trying to piece the dream puzzles into a story. My mind never seemed to stop. I had sought the advice of a dream expert at one stage, but she had been no help at all. Forty-five dollars for a fifteen-minute session, and all I got was a bit of light entertainment, listening to her banter. Her advice to write down what I dreamt had now become an obsession — a story.
Time for sleep now…
When I woke, my body felt cramped from the awkward position I had slept in. I looked around. Most of the passengers I could see were still asleep and the plane’s cabin lights were still dimmed. I looked to find that Elizabeth wasn’t in her seat. She couldn’t have gone far, I imagined.
“Good morning Catherine, I trust you slept well?” Edward asked in his refined English accent.
“Yes, thank you,” I lied. “And you?”
“Well enough, my dear. Elizabeth was not as fortunate. She woke several hours ago and could not get back to sleep,” Edward said as he rose from his seat, scanning for his beloved. Elizabeth was now in sight, and she looked different — somewhat pale and tired. Edward stepped out into the aisle to let his wife in.
“Good morning Catherine, did you sleep well?” Elizabeth asked, as she exhaustedly sank down into her chair.
“Yes, thank you I did, and you?” I replied, already knowing the answer to my question.
“No, not at all! Unfortunately I woke, for who knows what reason, and could not for the life of me get back to sleep,” she said as she took a deep breath and sighed. She was obviously drained.
“I was envious watching you and Edward in deep sleep,” she stated with a smirk on her face, looking directly at me, with one eyebrow raised.
“You were quite entertaining,” she added.
“Oh, no! Please don’t tell me I was talking in my sleep?” I pleaded, mortified at the prospect. It was something Annie had told me about often enough.
She nodded and then leaned over to me reassuringly.
“It’s perfectly fine dear.”
Her voice became lower and she moved closer to me. We must have looked like two friends sharing a secret, not wanting another soul to hear what was being said between us.
“Can you remember what you dreamt about?”
“Not anything that would make any sense to relate. I am so very sorry to have kept you awake with my talking. I am almost terrified to ask you what I was saying.”
She paused for a moment, almost unsure if she should share with me what she had heard.
“Well, firstly you started humming,” she finally said.
“Humming? Oh no, I am so embarrassed,” I said, covering my face with one hand.
“Please don’t be. I have to confess, you made me feel so happy and alive. You see… the melody you were humming was a tune that recalled my fondest memories as a young child. I should be the embarrassed one!” she confessed.
“It brought tears to my eyes. Catherine, I just can’t comprehend how you would know that tune,” she added.
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
Elizabeth paused, as she corrected her posture. She was obviously a very proud woman who was always conscious of her appearance and stance. She looked over at Edward who was now immersed in his novel, and then back at me.
“And then…” she continued, “you were terribly saddened. You seemed to be in a great deal of pain. You were trembling and I was tempted to wake you when you suddenly stopped.”
I shook my head still not remembering.
Edward poked his head up from over Elizabeth’s shoulder, curious to know what we were quietly talking about. He did not ask and we did not say, so he returned to his novel and with perfect timing, breakfast was served.
As I ate, I started to think about what Elizabeth had said. Not that it had made much sense. It was more the melody that intrigued me.
What was the tune I was humming, was it something I could put into my story, maybe dancing, I don’t know?