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Serena Campbell is late. She rarely is, but the cab she’d booked had taken a wrong turn and got stuck in traffic, and now she’s almost running towards security.
She woke up with her belly full of nerves, and it’s like a swarm of butterflies is swarming in her stomach. She cannot miss this flight; she tells herself sternly. This is her first lecture in Asia, at a vascular surgery conference in Singapore, and she wants to make a good impression.
A security agent plucks her from the queue when she babbles her situation in a slightly frantic voice, and she uses her shoulders to pass through disgruntled passengers. A small child manages to entangle herself in her legs and Serena stumbles into the full body scanner, the parents sniggering.
No matter. Serena is through. She is still sweating. Does not want to think about the state of her hair, or her clothes. She grips her handbag firmly and breathes in and out. Her gate for her flight to London is at the back of Holby Airport, so she heads that way, careful to side step when children come barrelling through.
Her flight to London is uneventful. The plane is largely empty. Most people prefer to take the train to the capital, but Professor Yang wanted her to travel in style. She vows never to tell her she barely made it.
Heathrow is of course much busier than Holby. Serena thanks her lucky stars that she does not have to go through security again, and just follows the signs towards Terminal 3 and the Emirates business class lounge. It’s hard not to skip her way there, but Serena feels a little smug.
It was very flattering to have been invited to speak at the conference by the chairperson herself. Professor Yang was a rock star in Serena’s field. A talented surgeon with a real knack for research, she worked in Shanghai but taught all over the world. Serena saves her articles when they come out in the Lancet, like the star struck teenager she never really was.
When Professor Yang called a few months ago, Serena thought it was a prank. The professor called in person. In perfect RP English due to her time at Oxford. And asked for Serena to deliver a lecture in femur to femur vein graft, something that Serena has done a handful of times but always with great success.
Now, Serena knows she’s a good surgeon. Without boasting or show boating, she knows her skills in theatre. Nurses want to work with her. Patients send her flowers long after their successful operations.
But to be called in person by the most eminent surgeon in her field was a balm to the ego. After the death of her mother and Elinor’s most recent stint in rehab, Serena needed that win.
So here she is, champagne flute in hand, kicking it back in a large leather armchair overlooking the tarmac. The lounge is plush. So is the tasteful grey carpet. The lighting is dimmed at this late hour and makes every thing glow, from the buffet to the bottles of expensive wines lined up behind the swish bar.
When she received her plane tickets in the mail, Serena understood she was stepping into a slightly different world from the European conferences she’d attended in the past. This was global. She’d been elevated into a higher sphere, and Henrik had congratulated her in earnest, the pleasure on his face evident.
Crisp champagne swirling in the mouth, Serena thinks she could get used to it.
She has a couple of hours to kill before her flight is called so she gets herself smoked salmon sandwiches and a glass of wine. When she comes back to her seat, she finds she has a neighbour in the next seat.
“Sorry was this seat taken? I didn’t see a coat or a…” The woman says, a little flustered.
Serena finds it hard to answer, taken aback with the novelty of a woman in full military uniform.
“No, no, I’m in this one,” Serena replies with a smile.
The woman nods, obviously relieved, and settles herself. She has a briefcase and a leather hold hall that she spreads out in front of her. Now that she’s a little out of Serena’s field of vision, Serena has to steal glances.
The uniform is impressive. It’s all black save for a red collar around the rim of the woman’s cap and red seams down the trouser leg. On her breast, there are medals pinned to the jacket.
Serena doesn’t know much about the army, but judging by the number of medals and the woman’s age, she bets her neighbour is pretty high up the ladder.
The woman looks exhausted beneath her cap. Her hair is blonde and up in a loose twist that’s probably meant to be smarter. She has fine hands and Serena winces at the purple bags under her dark eyes.
The lounge is quiet enough for the woman to fall asleep in under 10 minutes.
Announcements ring out periodically for various flights but the woman never stirs and Serena hopes she won’t miss her flight. She is loath to wake her, hindered by British propriety.
Finally, it’s Serena’s flight that is announced and she startles when the woman jerks and wakes, rubbing her face roughly.
She looks like she’s on auto pilot as she gathers her bags and stumbles to the exit, sparing a little smile for Serena, whose heart quickens for no reason at all.
Business class is lovely and should be the only way to fly, Serena decides as she takes in her surroundings. She has a seat that can fully recline, another glass of champagne in her hand, and has just ordered a full breakfast to be served before their arrival in Singapore.
With a start, she spots the uniformed woman a few rows ahead of her, already asleep in her seat. The flight attendant pulls out a blanket from the overhead locker and drapes it carefully over her, and Serena doesn’t care for the fond look the woman gives her.
As soon as the fasten seatbelts sign is gone, Serena gets up and turn her seat into a bed. The flight isn’t busy and the lights are already dimmed. She lies down, puts earplugs in and spares a thought for the soldier ahead who is still sleeping in a seated position, the silly thing. She has half a mind to wake her to allow her to sleep more comfortably, but the day catches up with her and she falls asleep.
Serena is in the middle of strange dream about a surgery and talking animals when she wakes up. For a second she doesn’t remember where she is. The cabin is dark and the steady hum of the engines throws her off. She moves a little and sees the flight attendant who gave her champagne looking down at her with worried eyes.
“Mrs Campbell?”
She sees the words on the woman's lips rather than hears them, so she removes her earplugs and the engines roar in her ears.
“Yes?”
Her voice is croaky and she clears her throat.
“Are you a doctor?” The flight attendant says, bending to reach Serena’s ear.
The words make Serena’s heart thump loudly in her chest. She’s never been asked that question on a plane before.
“Yes. A surgeon,” she replies, already removing the blanket from her lap and putting her shoes back on.
“There is a passenger with breathing difficulties back in Economy,” the flight attendant says in a calm but grimly fascinated voice.
Serena rubs her face once, twice, and gets up. She can’t have been asleep for more than five hours but she has years of experience of being on call. Her mind is sharp as she follows the flight attendant down the aisle towards the back of the plane.
Everyone is asleep save for a few exceptions. No one seems alarmed. The only evidence of something being amiss is the group of people amassed near the back row of the plane.
An elderly lady of Asian descent is lying down across the three seats of the row with her eyes closed. A man who seems to be her husband is holding her hand and talking to her softly in a language Serena doesn’t recognise. There are two more flight attendants hanging about looking worried.
“She collapsed about 5 minutes ago but regained consciousness. She’s still breathing pretty heavily,” one of them says to Serena.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Serena asks, all business now.
“Yes, but Maj-oh there she is with it,” the flight attendant says.
Serena turns and sees the uniformed woman, only in a tank top and trousers now, holding a box. Her hair has tumbled down from its clasp and Serena has to stop herself from touching it. It looks like a halo in the cabin light. Soft and inviting.
“Major Wolfe, trauma surgeon, RAMC,” she says, her voice firm but not arrogant.
Serena can feel her eyebrows crawl to her hairline. A soldier and a doctor. Impressive indeed.
“Serena Campbell, vascular surgeon, NHS,” Serena parries wryly.
They don’t shake hands but smile at each other until the stewardess clears her throat.
Oh yes, the patient, Serena thinks, embarrassed. Major Wolfe opens the first aid box and retrieves a stethoscope and blood pressure bracelet, hands to the stethoscope to Serena and grabs the patient’s arm, all in three graceful movements. A natural, Serena admires.
The elderly woman is grey and her breathing is shallow and laboured. Serena puts on the stethoscope and winces when she hears how slow the woman’s heart is.
Major Wolfe asks a question in the couple’s language, much to Serena’s surprise. The man smiles and replies softly, his eyes on his wife.
“Her name is Samira. She’s 78 and she has a pacemaker,” Major Wolfe informs Serena.
“And it’s failed her, unfortunately. Her heart is sluggish,” Serena replies, adding on the heart rate and nodding at Major Wolfe’s grimace.
Serena turns to the flight attendants while Major Wolfe takes Samira’s blood pressure.
“Do you have a defibrillator on board?” She asks.
The male flight attendant, obviously the head of cabin, nods.
“We are going to need it. She’s not in danger but she might require a little kick.”
He sends his colleague to fetch it. Major Wolfe explains the situation to the husband in the same musical language as before. He looks scared but the Major puts a hand on his arm and re assures him. Her eyes are very soft.
“What do I tell the captain?” The flight attendant, Louis his nametag says, asks.
Serena looks at Major Wolfe. Major Wolfe looks right back.
“Mrs Campbell?”
Samira is breathing on her own accord and they are currently flying over the empty plains of western China.
“She can make it to Singapore. Have the captain call ahead for a medical team to meet us in Singapore on the tarmac,” Serena decides.
Major Wolfe smiles and nods her approval, which warms Serena’s chest. Without a word, they rearrange Samira so that she is more comfortable. The cabin is still dark and quiet. Some passengers are watching movies, their monitors bright in the gloom.
“Prajeet says Samira has medication that she might have forgotten to take before they boarded. She’s still a little jet lagged, so could have been confused about the times,” Major Wolfe says, holding a box of Sotalol with triumph in her eyes.
The tension bleeds out of Serena. She opens the box and after some quick counting and more questions to Prajeet, they determine that Samira has forgotten her mid day dose. They help her up with gentle hands and watch as she slowly takes her pills.
Some colour comes back to Samira’s cheeks after a few minutes, and Serena breathes a sigh of relief. This will not be the first nor last time she treats an elderly patient who was forgetful. Her mother comes to mind with some lingering pain.
But Samira is lucky they were here and that Major Wolfe was on hand to speak whatever language they share.
A good day at the office, Serena decides as Prajeet holds both their hands with gratitude.
“He thanks us both. If you are ever near Kuala Lumpur, you can count on a meal and a party,” Major Wolfe says with a soft smile.
Serena smiles and her cheeks pink with pleasure at the happy look in Major Wolfe’s eyes.
The flight attendants bring everyone biscuits and tea, and even Samira can join in by the time Serena finishes her cup.
“So, a vascular surgeon?” Major Wolfe asks.
Samira and her husband are talking quietly and so they sit close by but out of sight to give the couple some privacy. The flight attendants go back to their rounds, visibly relieved.
“Yes, at Holby City. That’s near Bath, if you…”
“I know it well. I’m from round there. It’s a good hospital,” Major Wolfe says.
The seats in Economy are narrow and Serena can’t help but notice that their bodies are now touching from shoulder to thigh.
“I like to think so too. And you’re…are you on tour or on leave?” Serena asks.
Major Wolfe gestures vaguely to her dress trousers. They need a good iron now.
“I just finished a round of officer training near London and I’m off to Singapore for a conference before heading back to Kabul for another three months.”
“The conference. It wouldn’t happen to be on grafts, amputations and transplants?”
Major Wolfe nods with a wide smile, seemingly delighted.
“Yes! Wait? Yes, I knew I recognised your name! You are a speaker. Femur to femur, yes? Very impressive.”
Serena blushes and tilts her head in a humble motion.
“Well, thank you. I was very flattered to be asked. I’m a big fan of Professor Yang.”
“I was lucky enough to work with her in Shanghai. She is truly exceptional,” Major Wolfe agrees.
“London, Shanghai, Singapore, Kabul, the Army keeps you busy,” Serena notes as they get refills on their tea.
They need keep an eye on Samira until they hand her off to paramedics in Singapore, so Serena might as well get to know her new friend. At least she hopes they can become friends. Major Wolfe is probably the most interesting person she’s met in years.
“It’s the reward for 25 years of service. My CO likes to show me off,” Major Wolfe says with a huff and an eye roll. “I agreed to this stint because I could see my kids when I was in London.”
Serena hides her surprise. She would not have pegged Major Wolfe for a mother. Something about her deportment, or the way she moves, screams career woman with no time for children. There is no wedding band on her ring finger, Serena notes.
“They’re adults now. Well, so they say,” Major Wolfe says.
The fondness in her voice belies the word and makes Serena want to share too.
“I have one who is the same. 22 and wants her independence, but doesn’t quite know what that means.”
Major Wolfe nods with the air of someone who’s lived through the same experiences. With a pang, Serena realises she doesn’t know many women like her. Sian never had children and has been very little support with Elinor, and her colleagues are either younger or male, and Serena has missed talking to someone who could get what she’s going through.
In the dim cabin, Serena finds it easy to talk about her life. About Elinor and her mother. About her divorce. Major Wolfe is a good listener.
After a few cups of tea, Serena learns that her name is Bernie, and that she’s divorced too, and that her work is her life.
“I love my children very much. I know I could have been more present when they were growing up, but then I wouldn’t have been me,” Bernie says, leaning towards Serena so that she can be heard above the roar of the plane.
She smells like sandalwood. It’s a scent that Serena would find too masculine on her, but on Bernie it seems just right.
“That’s very well put,” Serena says as she clinks her Styrofoam cup full of weak tea against Bernie’s.
Bernie’s cheeks are a little pink and Serena is charmed once more. She’s about ask more about her kids, when the fasten seatbelts sign comes on and the captain’s smooth voice announces their imminent arrival into Chiangi Airport.
“You’ll…”
“I hope you…”
They spoke at the same time and they both laugh as the plane starts its descent.
“Can I get your number?” Bernie asks, her ears almost red.
Serena is suddenly very aware of her heart beating fast against her ribcage. She clears her throat and nods.
“It’s not every day you save a life on a plane with somebody else,” Serena quips as she enters her number with trembling fingers in Bernie’s phone.
“No, it isn’t,” Bernie agrees. “And I think we should celebrate. I’d love to take you for a drink.”
Bernie seems surprised at her own daring, and that endears her even more to Serena.
“I’d like that. Very much,” Serena replies, unsure if the freefall feeling in her belly is due to the plane landing or something else.
Bernie smiles, her features lovely despite the long haul flight and the sure lack of sleep.
When they disembark, staying close to Samira and her husband and the paramedics, Serena is almost reluctant to leave the plane. More than saving a life, something momentous has happened in the 11 hours between London and Singapore. She watches as Bernie signs off a form the paramedics handed her, and her heart thuds at how lovely the other woman is.
She’s not stupid. She knows herself. She recognises her attraction. It hasn’t happened with a woman in a long time, but it’s not the first time. It just hasn’t been this strong this quickly. Ever.
“We are all done,” Bernie says as Samira is wheeled off in a wheeled chair, Prajeet waving to them gratefully.
They are on their own by Immigration and Serena wants to make this moment last for ever. They look at each other and smile and blush and it’s like Serena is a teenager again. People weave around them, busy and eager to get out.
“I’ll call you when I get to my hotel’?” Bernie offers a little uncertainly.
The confidences shared in the dark plane cabin seem very intimate in the harsh light of the terminal and Serena wishes they were still high above the clouds in their own little world. It feels as if they are standing on a precipice and Bernie is holding out a hand and asking her to take a chance.
“Yes. Yes, please,” she replies firmly.