Patrick had been on a plane before, once or twice. Only ever small aircraft, seating two to four passengers, and it had been during the war, his heart constantly in his mouth at the thought of being shot down by the Nazis at any given moment. Shelagh, however, had never been higher than a few stories up, her excitement tinged with trepidation palpable as they sat at the airport, waiting for their flight to be called.
"I hope I haven't forgotten anything," she muttered, playing with the hem of her cardigan absently, looking thoughtful as she surveyed the floor.
"I'm sure you've thought of everything my love. You checked both of our bags at least three times this morning," he said, placating, as he flipped to the next page in his book. Shelagh replied with a noncommittal hum, jumping when the loudspeaker requested that they head out onto the runway to board their plane, following the primly dressed stewardess who was waving from the counter. She quickly got to her feet, hoisting her bag up while Patrick carried the larger of the two, his free hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her towards the door. He felt more than heard her breath catch in her throat as they walked out onto the the tarmac, the stairs leading up to the plane glistening in the sunlight as the beams bounced off the metal railIng.
"Is it too late to turn back?" She asked, a joking lilt to her voice that was only slightly overshadowed by the honest nervousness that he could hear lurking just beneath, making her accent thicker in the warmth of the runway. He knew that any fear she had of flying would be pushed aside, her desire to go to Africa and to help at the mission easily overpowering any hesitation. She had spoken of nothing except the trip over the last week, having wished the others well on their boat ride over while frantically arranging for the children to be taken care of and a locum to cover the clinic and district rounds for the duration of the trip. She had spent the evenings attempting to learn a few Bantu phrases, stumbling over the foreign dialect but repeating the words over and over again in the dim light of their bedroom until he had to kiss her to cease the repetition and convince her to go to bed. Any other free time had been spent talking of the possible things they might see on the trip, from the types of ailments and lack of resources, to the animals that would be roaming about - so natural to the African countryside but so foreign to any Brit. Although he had initially been reluctant to consider the trip, Patrick couldn't help but feel elated and impacted by his wife's excitement.
"We're going to be just fine. You're going to love flying," Patrick assured her, careful to stay behind her as they boarded the plane, allowing her the window seat as he stowed their bags. He kept his book in his lap, allowing Shelagh time between boarding and takeoff to get her bearings of the plane. When the captain called out that they were preparing for takeoff he felt her stiffen again, but she showed no other signs of unease, eyes fixed on the tiny window and the ground that started moving beneath them. He bookmarked his place when they started accelerating, leaning his chin on Shelagh's shoulder so that he could look out the window, watching as the plane sped up, his stomach lurching slightly as they left the ground.
Shelagh gasped softly, reaching to grab his hand and give it a squeeze as they took off, a look of amazement encompassing her features as the plane quickly ascended into the sky, the buildings of London quickly becoming smaller and smaller. Patrick lost interest after a few moments, turning back to his book, but not releasing his wife's hand, listening to her astounded commentary as they flew over the coast of England, heading towards Europe and then on towards Africa.
"It's beautiful up here," Shelagh sighed, soft smile playing about her lips. Patrick looked over at her, seeing the elation on her features, excitement bubbling from her every pore at being airborne and on their way to do something good. He grinned, the expression softened around his eyes as he looked at his wife.
"Yes," he answered, "it is."