Eve sighed as the engines fired up. Her knuckles were white with tension as she gripped her shaking knees. Looking down at the blue jeans she had worn home from work earlier that afternoon, she gritted her teeth against the rising panic.
An elderly gentleman sat next to her, calmly perusing the safety pamphlet provided by the airline. At the front of the cabin a crewmember smiled whilst going through the motions of the passengers safety briefing. Eve watched taking nothing in, instead wondering what she was doing on a plane heading for New Zealand.
Life had been hard since leaving college, but Eve was no stranger to adversity. She had learned to cope with the daily struggles a long time ago. Having lost most of her family at a young age she had become adept at handling whatever fate threw at her. She had paid her own way through college and university, sometimes working three jobs along with a cartload of revision and coursework. Eve had grown up fast and missed out on a lot of things other people took for granted.
Recently, though, she had been wondering what the point was. She had come away from university and been snapped up by the reputable metal smith Chris Topien, who had been blown away by the beauty of her work. His young protégée had not let him down. Dedicated to the point of obsession, Eve had produced some of her greatest work to date whilst under his supervision.
It had been a great blow when Eve had broken both her wrists, not least because one of the biggest job opportunities had just fallen into her lap. Watching the job of a lifetime pass her by had been a harsh blow and had severely knocked her confidence. She had cut off all contact with Chris, refusing to accept any help, humiliated that she had let everybody down.
Since then, everything had gone downhill. Unable to work and worried to the point of breakdown Eve had survived on the dole, living in a dingy council flat barely better than a squat. She had slipped into a black depression and become a recluse, only leaving the flat to collect her money and stock up on the bare essentials.
Until one day she had been brought back to reality with a sharp thump. Realizing her life was going nowhere unless she did something about it, she had answered an advertisement for a London based components factory.
Moving to London had been both a lifesaver and a letdown for Eve. As she started rebuilding her life Eve had wrapped herself in the relative safety of daily routine to the point where her life had become devoid of meaning. All she did was sleep, eat and work. The intriguing note this afternoon had pushed her niggling frustration with her mundane reality to the surface and she had become conscious of how miserable she really was.
Now, as the plane taxied up the runway, Eve wondered if she had perhaps been too rash. She had not even notified her landlady of her departure, thinking it would be easier to phone her later than tell her face-to-face. A stern lecture from the old bitch was the last thing she needed.
"You look a little tense. Is this your first time flying"
Eve jerked in her seat, realizing the voice had been directed towards her. Turning in her seat she saw the kindly old man looking at her with deep sympathy.
"It's just that you look … well, a bit scared really." He grinned, showing remarkably white teeth that could only be false.
Eve became aware of her mouth hanging open. Blushing, she forced a stiff smile onto her face. "To put it bluntly, I'm shit scared. I feel like I'm going to be sick actually."
"Poor dear," he crinkled his eyes in amusement, "They have these little bags for that, quite handy actually."
Pulling a discreet white bag from the back of the seat in front he handed it to Eve, patting her hand.
"And yes, it's my first time and hopefully my last."
She gasped as the plane picked up speed. Her stomach lurched, and she found herself hastily reaching for the white paper bag, gripping it tightly in her hand, just to be on the safe side.
"Well however are you going to get home if this is your last flight? It's not so bad really, once you're up. It's just the getting there that isn't pleasant. That, and coming back down I suppose."
With tears streaming down her face Eve swallowed rapidly, struggling internally not to throw up. The old man chattered away distracting Eve for most of the planes bumpy ascent. From time to time he would place an arm on Eve shoulder, asking her if she felt any better. She found his grandfatherly concern endearing and tried to answer his gentle questions.
"You know, I'm actually a nervous flyer myself, but I find a couple of Prozac do wonders. I could loan you one or two if you like."
He rustled around in the pockets of the battered carryall at his feet.
"Not that I spend my time pushing drugs on nervous young women." He winked humorously, handing Eve a bottle of Evian and a pill clearly marked Prozac. "You'll find it much easier to relax after one of those. My doctor recommended it to me. Apparently they're beta-blockers, something like a tranquillizer. All gobbledygook to me, really."
Eve accepted his offer gratefully, hoping to numb her growing terror. Aware that she could have a debilitating flashback if she didn't calm herself, Eve took deep breaths using a progressive muscle relaxation technique she had been taught by her doctor.
The old man chattered away until Eve began to feel a bit drowsy. Her eyes drooped and lulled by the gentle words of her flying companion she drifted off.
The rest of the flight seemed to pass as if it was a dream. Awakening some hours after takeoff, Eve found the old man, whose name she still didn't know, had covered her with a blanket. Having taken responsibility for Eve, he had also ordered her meal for her, telling her she needed to be fattened up with his comforting chuckle. They ate and talked for hours. Eve found that Jimmy, which was the old codgers name, was traveling to New Zealand to meet up with his wife, who had been visiting her long lost adopted daughter. He made her laugh with a couple of anecdotes only old men seem to know and asked her searching questions about her own reason for visiting the far off island.
"I'm hoping to get a job out there." She answered avoiding an in depth answer that might make him question her sanity.
"It's such a beautiful country, Eve. My wife tells me she wants to stay forever. With my fear of flying to put me off, I might never go back to England." He gazed into space as if saying goodbye to what was behind them.
Eve dozed peacefully on and off, missing the second meal and the flight seemed to be over much sooner than she expected. About fifteen minutes before they went in to land Jimmy shook her awake, giving her another Prozac.
As the decent began, he turned to face her.
"I must say Eve, this has been one of the most pleasant flights I have ever had. You have been an excellent flying companion."
"Thank you Jimmy. I wouldn't have gotten through this if it hadn't been for you." She gripped the armrest as the plane banked.
He withdrew a business card from his pocket and placed it in her hand.
"Now, if you are ever in need of a Prozac or two, this is my card. You're welcome to pop over and have a chat." He turned his shoulders so that he was facing Eve, his expression grave. "You look after yourself girl."
They were on the ground as he turned away. Eve felt relief flood her body. Relieved that she could stretch her legs and breathe fresh air again she quite forgot that the journey was not yet over. Grabbing her hand luggage she had to stop herself pushing in eagerness to get off the plane on onto unexplored soil.
Her happiness was short lived as she stepped into the busy arrivals lounge. Her confidence drooped and she found herself totally overwhelmed by the crowds lingering around the luggage carousel. Surrounded by strange accents and people, she concentrated only on finding her bag and getting away from it all as quickly as possible.
Doubts began to enter her mind. She wondered whether anyone would be there to meet her and what he or she would be like. What if she was stranded at the airport? Or if she missed her contact? Where the hell was her bag?
Seeing the familiar battered backpack she lunged past a woman who seemed more interested in chatting to her neighbor than finding her own things. Ignoring the indignant yelps she grabbed the strap and swung round, heading for the exit.
"Who the hell was that?" The battered bystander screeched, turning back to her conversation. "Think she was in a hurry?"
As she came through the doors leading her to the main area of the airport, Eve noticed a sign for the Ladies. Rushing in she jumped the queue and locked herself in a cubicle.
"Stop panicking, stop panicking." She murmured, closing the lid of the toilet and sitting. Prone to anxiety attacks when overcrowded or facing the unknown, Eve fought the rising fear and struggled to remain in control.
A timid knock came at the door accompanied by a raised whisper enquiring whether she was okay. She ignored and instead focused on calming her racing heart. Wiping her sweating palms with the available loo roll, she gradually came down off the fearful adrenaline high. She stopped shaking and began thinking more rationally.
Aware that the Ladies bathroom was buzzing with nervous chatter about her sudden appearance and consequent actions, Eve opened the cubicle door sheepishly.
Half a dozen women turned to face her. Some showing concern, others anger.
"You jumped the queue." The heavily made up lady pointed a red talon accusingly.
"I'm… oh God… I'm so, so sorry, I had to be sick."
"The are queues for a reason you know. You can't just…"
Eve left her attacker mouthing furiously as she walked out the room. Almost marching, she crossed the hall following signs for the Help Bureau.