not letting you out of my sight.’
‘Have a little faith,’ he grinned, pressing the boarding pass into her hand. ‘There’s an article I need to read for work and there may not be internet on the plane.’
‘Work! There will be no working on this trip.’
Jack cupped her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. It was a look that held such love Margo felt unexpected tears welling.
‘This one last thing,’ Jack said. ‘Then I’m done with work. Finished. That’s a promise.’
He kissed her lightly, then took off at a trot in the direction of the newspaper stand, pulling his suitcase behind him. He waved without looking back and disappeared around a corner.
‘Do not miss this plane,’ she called to the empty corridor. ‘That’s an order!’
Margo felt a little shiver of something. Anxiety? Fear? She didn’t know. She shook it off and boarded the plane. Later, when it all had gone wrong, she would remember that ominous feeling.
Inside the 757 Margo handed the flight attendant her coat and scarf and took her seat by the window in the last row of the first-class cabin.
‘Can I get you something before we take off, Mrs McCarthy?’
‘Two glasses of champagne, please,’ Margo answered. ‘My husband will be here any moment.’
‘He’d better hurry. They’ll be closing the doors soon,’ the young woman explained as she placed the champagne on the table between the seats.
‘Don’t worry,’ Margo smiled. ‘He’ll show up just as the jet bridge is pulling away. He likes to live dangerously.’
Margo sipped her champagne mechanically, never taking her eyes off the door. Five minutes passed. Then, ten. He should be here by now. That feeling she’d had as she watched Jack walk away came back.
The purser was on the intercom now giving the usual prior-to-takeoff instructions. Margo dialled Jack’s mobile but the call did not go through.
The crew began making their final pass down the cabin, picking up glasses. Margo was on her feet. ‘My husband’s not here yet. You have to hold the plane.’
‘I’ll have the purser check with the ground crew,’ the flight attendant said. She gently urged Margo back into her seat. ‘Your husband probably thought you would wait for him out in the terminal.’
‘No, he didn’t think that! I’m getting off. Something’s wrong,’ Margo exclaimed.
She stood up again, scrambling to pull her bag out of the overhead locker as the purser approached, smiling.
‘Trench coat?’ he asked.
Margo was faint with relief. ‘Ancient trench coat. He never goes anywhere without it.’
‘He’s on the way down the jet way.’
Margo dropped into her seat and fastened the seatbelt. From where she was sitting all she could see of Jack was his rumpled trench coat as he bounded through the door. The crew hustled him into a seat in the bulkhead just as the door slid closed and the big Airbus pushed back from the gate.
‘We’ll move him back here once we’re airborne,’ the flight attendant said.
‘That’ll give me time to think up a suitable punishment for him.’ Margo smiled, shaky with relief.
Within minutes the plane was rumbling down the runway and lifting up into the lead-coloured Chicago sky. The moment the plane reached its cruising altitude and the seatbelt sign was turned off, Margo got out of her seat and headed toward the front of the plane.
She looked down at Jack, who had the nerve to be cocooned in the airline quilt, sleeping. She put her arms around him and kissed him on the head. ‘Were you trying to give me a heart attack?’ she whispered.
The man’s head emerged from the blanket and Margo froze. This wasn’t Jack. It was a stranger.
Jack was not on the plane.
The purser was doing his best to calm Margo. ‘People miss planes all the time, Mrs McCarthy. I could tell you stories …’
‘Excuse me, but I’m not interested in stories,’ Margo answered firmly. ‘I’m interested in how my husband could disappear without a trace from a public airport.’
‘We have contacted the ground crew. They checked and double-checked. There was no one in the waiting area,’ the purser said, struggling to be patient. ‘The man at the newspaper stand didn’t remember seeing anyone who fit your husband’s description. I’m sure it’s just a mix-up. You said yourself that he’s habitually late.’
‘We’re on our way to Mexico to celebrate our first anniversary.’ Margo suddenly found herself on the brink of tears. ‘Do you think he’d be late for that?’
The purser was trying to shepherd her back to her seat. ‘I must insist that you sit down, Mrs McCarthy. The captain has turned the seatbelt sign back on.’
‘And I insist that you return to the airport and let me off this plane so I can find out what happened to my husband,’ Margo cried.
The other passengers were becoming alarmed by the commotion and the purser was growing concerned. ‘If you will not comply with instructions, I have no choice but to notify the pilot,’ he said.
‘Go ahead, notify him. I don’t care. I need to get off this plane.’ Margo stood her ground, looking angry now.
The flight attendant stepped in to try and ease the tension. ‘You don’t want to get the flight deck involved,’ she murmured to Margo conspiratorially, and added, ‘There are all sorts of protocols in place these days. They’ll have to call the police and land at the nearest airport. Then a SWAT team will meet the plane in the middle of nowhere and arrest you. Believe me, you don’t want that kind of hassle. And it won’t help find your husband … What’s his name?’
‘Jack. His name is Jack,’ Margo said, and reluctantly sat down.
‘There’s a flight leaving for Puerto Vallarta in two hours. Your Jack will probably be on that flight. If he’s smart he’ll be bringing a fabulous anniversary present with him.’
Margo was adamant, shaking her head. ‘No, something is very wrong.’ In a whisper, she added, ‘That late arrival in seat 1B? He was wearing Jack’s trench coat.’
The flight attendant nodded. ‘Ma’am, half the men on this flight were wearing trench coats when they boarded. You can’t tell one from the other.’
‘I
