Free Rosa and the Veil of Gold by Kim Wilkins

lightning hit us, but I thought I could see smoke outside and somebody else in the cabin said something about smoke, and then hysteria began to run through the cabin. It was like dominos falling over. Every head turned towards the windows. The rain was bucketing down, lightning flashing everywhere, the pressure under the wings making us pitch about. Then the plane dropped. Everyone screamed. A second later, it picked up again.
    “The captain’s voice comes over the intercom, telling all the flight attendants to hurry down to the cockpit. You know how you always look at the flight attendants to see if they still look calm?”
    Em shook her head. “I don’t.”
    “Well, I always used to,” he muttered, “but they looked worried. When they came out of the cockpit, one of them was trying not to cry. The captain’s voice came over the intercom again to tell us that they were experiencing a technical problem and had to make an emergency landing. In the storm.”
    “But you landed safely,” Em said.
    Daniel took a second to answer. “Yes. But it was terrifying. They got us all off the plane. We sat for two hours at the airport, only to be put back on the same plane. Where we waited another three hours on the tarmac. People were praying as we took off.”
    “And that was the last time you flew?”
    “Yes. On the way back to London, I couldn’t relax, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the miles and miles of sky beneath my feet. I kept thinking about how we were all stuck in a metal tube in the air. I walked around the cabin, obsessively checking through windows where I could, looking for loose nuts and bolts, wondering if people were hijackers, or if there were bombs in the cargo hold.” His voice became constricted and his words fell over each other. “One of the flight attendants offered me a shot of whisky to calm me down, but I didn’t want to be calm. I wanted to be alert in case something happened. It was torture. Fourteen hours like that. The idea of getting back on a plane makes me ill. I can’t even walk into an airport.” He laughed self-consciously. “I’m getting edgy just talking about it.”
    “I can hear that. But you know, fear’s not very productive,” she said. “It makes people unnecessarily vulnerable.”
    “You act like it’s something I should be ashamed of.”
    “Not at all,” Em said, reminding herself to choose her words more carefully. “People always take things I say the wrong way.”
    “What are you afraid of then?”
    As if on cue, the steering wheel wobbled under her hands. “Nothing,” she answered.
    “Nothing? Nothing at all?”
    “Nothing I can think of.”
    “Spiders? Snakes?”
    “It would depend on if they were poisonous, or likely to bite me.”
    “Heights? Being trapped in a lift?”
    “No. Although, again, if I were likely to fall or to suffocate, I wouldn’t just accept it blithely. I have a survival instinct, like anyone. But I tend to think that whatever gets you in the end will probably be the thing you least expect. You know, you could spend your whole life avoiding planes and end up getting hit by a bus crossing the road for a coffee.”
    “Thanks,” Daniel murmured. “That’s heartening.”
    Em’s stomach growled conspicuously. “Speaking of survival instincts, should we stop soon for lunch? What’s the time?”
    Daniel checked his watch. “Nearly three.”
    “No wonder I’m hungry. Check the map. Any little towns nearby that we can detour through for food and gas?”
    Within half an hour, they had found a tiny spot on the map which consisted of a convenience store, a petrol station, two streets and a car park surrounded by tall pines. They pulled into the car park next to a bent telegraph pole and Em gratefully opened the door and stretched out her legs.
    “Are you going to fill up?” Daniel asked.
    “On the way out. I need to eat first. But there’s something I want you to do for me, Daniel.”
    He turned to her, his dark eyes