Free Across the Lagoon by Roumelia Lane Page A

figure of Gray Barrett. She had watched Stephanie fasten her seat belt and had fumbled to do the same. Now the big figure leaned in to check the firmness of it, and his niece's, before sitting back to fasten his own.
    Carol gathered by this action that they were due to start out and sure enough, a second or two later the plane moved forward, its engines accelerating to an almighty roar. Her hands gripping the arms of her seat, she watched in fascinated horror as the ground started to move past the window.
    She knew nothing of airport procedure; of such things as the pilot having to wait for his signals, of taxiing across the apron to reach the runway, so that she suffered a tense hang-up of three or four minutes needlessly.
    She began to wonder if they were going to Italy overland. The plane sped on and on. Just when she was beginning to get a feeling of anti-climax, the ground fell away before her very eyes, her seat seemed to slope into the air, and even as she half-sneaked a look, trucks, cars, trees, houses took on a toy-like quality.
    Hypnotised, she watched a wisp of cloud float past the window, then quickly she brought her gaze inside. Everyone looked so normal when she stared around. The passengers seemed to accept, almost gaily, that only the floor of the plane separated them from all that space outside. The stewardesses were tripping down the aisle and people were unfastening their seat belts. Carol pretended to fiddle with hers, but she kept it tightly fastened. She had heard that the journey would take just over two hours, and during that time she preferred to stay glued to her seat.
    To the drone of engines she tried to take an interest in Stephanie's magazine raised at the side of her, but nothing registered on her glazed senses. Looking outside was worse. She had discovered that the plane's wing was just a little way along from her window, and horror of horrors, she could see all sorts of weird mechanisms working; flaps sliding in and out, wires coiling this way and that, and lights flickering on and off. It was just too awful to watch.
    Rigidly she sat trailing her gaze over the air-conditioning buttons overhead, and along the seat pockets in front of her, schooling herself to look anywhere but out of the window.
    Some of her sickly apprehension must have communicated itself to Stephanie, for after a while the younger girl lowered her magazine and turned to ask, her brown gaze curious, 'Are you feeling all right?'
    'Oh, I will be ..." Carol's attempt at humour was strained, 'I just can't get used to being in the air.' She hid her envy of the younger girl's calm acceptance and asked, 'Doesn't flying bother you?'
    Stephanie considered the question for a moment, then replied, 'I was a bit timid the first time, but I've done it so often. Now it's just like catching a bus. And much more convenient.'
    Carol smiled lamely. She couldn't say she altogether agreed with that.
    Halfway through the journey a light snack was served. Stephanie was very helpful in showing Carol how to pull out the stand for her tray from the back of the seat in front. Not that she could eat a thing. The resemblance of an appetite she might have been building up was snatched away when a series of bumps and dips overtook the plane. Her coffee cup shook wildly in her hand, partly because of the jarring motion, but mainly because she was scared out of her wits.
    Stephanie came to her rescue again. 'It's a bit of bad weather,' she said nonchalantly, pointing out of the window. Carol cringed a look outside and saw smokelike angry black clouds speeding past the window a short distance away. Beyond them the sky was incredibly blue and the sun shone down brilliantly. As they bumped along she was told, 'I expect the pilot will try and climb above it.'
    She hung on, biting her lip, sure that the flimsy plane couldn't stand all this banging about. Then braving another look out of the window she saw that they were indeed soaring up towards the sun and the