The English Wife

The intercom bell dings.

‘This is your captain. Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. An, um, an instrument problem has arisen and I’m afraid we need to divert to the nearest airport, in Gander, Newfoundland, to have it checked. It’s nothing serious, but regulations state we must have it looked at before continuing on our onward journey. We’ll give you more information once we land. The seatbelt signs have been switched on, so please buckle up. Apologies for the inconvenience. We’ll have you on your way as quickly as possible.’

An instrument problem? Seriously? Sophie glances at her watch. Nine forty-five. The interview wasn’t until tomorrow, but still. She’d planned everything so carefully to get there early so she’d have time to practise her presentation and get a good sleep.

‘Don’t worry, hon,’ Mike says, patting her on her knee. ‘These kinda things happen all the time. Nothin’ to worry about.’

‘It’s not that. I have an important meeting to get to.’

Bob leans across Mike’s girth. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll make it. We’ll be outta here in a shot. Like Mikey here says, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll be in New York by lunch, you can bet on it.’

‘Right. Thanks.’ She shuts her eyes, willing the butterflies bashing around her stomach to settle. Just a minor hiccup, Soph. Nothing to worry about. Take a chill pill.

Half an hour later the aeroplane begins its descent. Sophie peers out the window. The flat, grey roof of an airport building a fraction of the size of Heathrow comes into view below, a grey island in an ocean of trees. About twenty aeroplanes, parked in an orderly row, gleam like silver arrows on the tarmac.

The plane bounces onto the runway and breaks to a gradual stop. Sophie watches out the window as it taxis towards the queue of aeroplanes. Her eyes travel over the bright logos. British Airways, Alitalia, Delta, Virgin, United, Northwest, and others she can’t identify. Another plane, a Lufthansa, glides in to land, while far above, the sun glints on the silver wings of an airliner circling in the September sky.

She glances at Mike who is straining to look over her shoulder. ‘There are over twenty planes out there.’

The intercom bell dings again.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these aeroplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we’re here for another reason. We have received a report through our communication lines that there is an armed threat at the World Trade Center in New York. We’ve been advised that international airspace over North America has been shut down and all flights diverted to the nearest airports. We’re to stay on the plane until further notice.’

The World Trade Center? Richard Niven’s office was only a few blocks away. Sophie pulls her phone out of her bag and taps out the number for the office. Nothing. She tries again. Not even a dial tone. She looks out the window. A faint breeze rustles through the green-black evergreens in the distance. The metallic aeroplanes waver under the bright sun like a mirage in a desert oasis. A blackbird lands on an aeroplane wing. It opens its beak, but the song is silent through the thick glass.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.