In Moggach's book (which I really didn't like btw) there's a part on the plane to India where Evelyn's sat next to the Ainslies and it made me think of writing like an extra little scene for the film and, yeah. Um. Here it is...
Evelyn rummages through her hand luggage for what must be the millionth time, assuring everything is present and accounted for. As if it may have changed in the few minutes since she'd last checked. She puts the slight tremble of her fingers down to first–flight nerves as she zips up her bag once again. It's then that she becomes aware of gravelly words, mangled slightly by the intercom, from the pilot. But as soon as she realises, the address has come to its end. It was probably something important too and she bloody well missed it. Maybe her son was right after all; maybe this was a daft idea, the foolish whim of an emotional widow – no, no! She can do this. She is going to prove to him (but more importantly, herself) that she can do this.
A baby starts wailing at the rear end of the plane, and suddenly Evelyn wonders why she hadn't indulged herself on one of those i-thingies – not that she's certain she'd have had the first clue about working it, but then again, she'd once thought the same about her laptop and she was doing pretty well with that. But some Frank Sinatra right now would be marvellous.
The plane begins its departure – eliciting further shrieks from the child behind – and Evelyn anxiously eyes the quiver of the wing outside her window as they begin to skim along the track. She tries to convince herself that it's meant to be like that, and they weren't about to set off and immediately land in the roof of Stansted airport. That would certainly be one extremely conclusive way for the world to tell her not to bother with this trip.
"Sweetie?"
She turns to see a bag of lemon drops, before glancing up to the person proffering them – a man with a kind smile and a gentle twinkle in his eyes. Oddly, she finds something greatly comforting in it. It takes her a moment to recognise him as the man from the airport – the one who had moved his bags to offer her a seat.
"It helps to stop your ears popping, you know, when you take off," he smiles and shakes the bag encouragingly. She offers him a grateful smile in return as she picks one out.
"Thank you," she says before popping it into her mouth. Lemon drops had always been a favourite of hers.
"Is it your first time flying?" he asks her, gently angling himself toward her in his chair. She notices his quite spindly legs are finding the limited space particularly awkward to negotiate and she's thankful she doesn't have the same problem, considering the length of the flight – although she's sure getting to her feet at the end might prove a small difficulty for her damned stiff joints. She groans internally at the thought.
"Yes... yours?"
"No, we've flown a few places over the years. Never gets dull though!"
Their conversation quite manages to take her mind off the track before, without warning, she is thrust back into her chair as the plane vigorously speeds up for take-off. Her hand instinctually goes to grip the seat to steady herself, but instead finds the man's hand. She feels a blush tinge her cheeks as she hurriedly takes her hand away, peeking up at him and apologising. He grins, and tells her not to worry.
"I was quite nervous on my first flight too, but once you're up there it's more of a thrill."
Evelyn smiles and returns her gaze out of the window, sucking absentmindedly on the sweet. It had been a rainy day over Stansted and now they're zipping through the very clouds they'd been beneath only moments ago. It's just a wash of white, raindrops streaming across the window pane. A fierce jolt of turbulence has Evelyn with a hand to her chest, taking deep breaths, trying not to panic too much. Very much on the way now, no chance of turning back, she's beginning to feel that underlying sense of loneliness creep in and it frightens her.
"I'm Douglas by the way," the man's voice once again lures her from her fretting. He gestures to the woman beside him before adding, "And this is my wife, Jean."
"Evelyn. Hello," she responds, offering Jean a smile over his shoulder. She returns it, but Evelyn suspects it isn't altogether genuine. Which is almost instantly proven true when Jean all too hurriedly diverts her attention to cast a disdainful scowl over those seated about them, her focus – swiftly absent of its disdain – lingering for a questionably long time on a man sitting across from her on the other side of the aisle.
"I can't believe you didn't get us the first-class tickets, Douglas," Jean says shaking her head when she turns back to them. "I asked you specifically."
"It's all we could afford, darling. You know that," he reminds her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the twinkle in his eyes that Evelyn had seen earlier, abruptly doused. Jean shakes her head haughtily, before burying her nose in her book. When her eyes stick to one spot on the page, Evelyn knows she's just trying to avoid speaking to him further. He swivels round to face Evelyn instead, smile plainly weakened.
"Going on a holiday, are you?" he enquires, a look of genuine interest in his eyes though, which takes her quite by surprise.
"Actually, I'm sort of moving, to live in Jaipur. For the time being at least. At a place called – it's quite a mouthful – The Best Exotic–"
"Marigold Hotel," he finishes, his wide grin returning, a gleam in his eyes once again. "Us too!"
"Isn't that a coincidence?" Evelyn laughs. "It looks quite a magnificent place."
"It certainly does, Jean's particularly taken with it," he says before his gaze is drawn over Evelyn's shoulder and beyond the window. "We've got past the nerve-wracking bit now, look. Smooth sailing from here on in. Look at that view though."
She does just that and catches her breath, because although all that can be seen in every direction below them is cloud, their formations are more astounding than she could have ever imagined from above. Some parts ripple like frozen waves, whilst others are clambering higher into the atmosphere in candy-floss tufts. What's even more stunning is the cold blue stretching forever about them, crisp and clear and fresh, glowing in the bright light of the sun. Odd to think such a lovely day has been hidden simply by that small veil of cloud. As she admires the spectacular sight, it suddenly hits Evelyn that she's zipping through the air miles above land and her heart beats a little faster, it's exhilarating. She's beginning to really enjoy this. Her first proper adventure.
"Soon we'll get past the cloud though, then you'll see some real views," Douglas tells her, and he smiles. "It'll be breath-taking."
She grins back, eager to see what's to come, and cheered to know that already she isn't so alone on this journey.