As soon as she leaves the lavatory, she checks the Flight Attendant Panel: a computerized screen showing her the exact location of the active call buttons. Three in the first two rows of economy. Another one pings as she watches. Something is going on. She knows Anders is packing up the back galley, but why isn’t eager-beaver Ellie dealing with these? As Ellie would well know, they’re meant to monitor the cabin and answer call buttons as fast as possible.
Kim is busy cosseting the business-class passengers with salted caramel chocolate balls and extravagant compliments about someone’s earrings.
“Anything I should know about?” Allegra asks her. The curtain is drawn, so they can’t see what’s going on in economy.
“What should I know about?” Kim is oblivious. Of course she is.
A passenger holds up a wineglass. “Kim, could I trouble you for a top-up?”
“No problem, Mrs. Lee!” Kim beams. “Back in a flash.”
Allegra grits her teeth, leaves business class to Kim. She pulls back the curtain and surveys the main cabin. She can’t immediately see anything untoward. People are up in the aisle as you would expect at this time: heading to the lavatory, opening overhead bins. There is, however, a subtle change in the atmosphere. Nothing dramatic, but something. A low hum of voices. Not agitated as such, but more conversation going on than you would normally expect.
Right. Start at the front with the chatty husband and wife who told Allegra all about their Tasmanian holiday in maybe a little more detail than she needed during the delay. She knows their names because they introduced themselves so enthusiastically, as if they expected they’d all be staying in touch after this day: Sue and Max O’Sullivan.
She smiles as she leans over to turn off Max’s call light. “What can I do for you, Mr. O’Sullivan?”
“There’s a lady we think might be upsetting people.” Sue answers on her husband’s behalf. She points backward over her shoulder, as though discreetly pointing out someone behind her at a party. “Not us! We’re not upset. We’re perfectly fine.”
“She’s predicting deaths,” explains Max.
“Deaths? She’s threatening people?” Allegra blanches.
“No, no, love, more like a clairvoyant, thinks she’s a fortune teller or whatever.” He twirls a finger next to his ear. “Harmless.”
Allegra’s view of the back of the plane is blocked by a passenger in a sequined caftan top who is attempting to push her bulging carry-on bag back into the overhead bin.
The well-dressed anxious man in the aisle seat next to Sue says, “She’s sitting across from me.” He indicates the empty seat across the aisle from him. Four-Delta.
“Okay.” Allegra tries to visualize the passenger. She switches off his call light too. “Thanks so much for letting me know.”
A man’s voice rises up from about three rows back. “What did you just say to me?”
Allegra feels her heart rate pick up. You’ve got this, she tells herself. Kim handled a brawl; you can handle one wacky fortune teller.
“Excuse me,” she says to the caftan woman. “Could I get by?”
“Oh, sure, but could you help me here?” The woman dumps the bag back on the floor. Flight attendants are not technically meant to help passengers lift bags. You packed it, you stack it. But in practice, Allegra is always helping people.
“Wheels first is best,” says Allegra. She goes to lift the bag, assuming the woman will continue to bear some of the weight, but she releases her hands and stands back, watching with a frown, as though Allegra is a bellboy charged with the welfare of her precious bag: apparently packed with bricks.
Allegra, who changed into flats once they were in the air, is right on the airline’s minimum-height requirement. She feels like she might have shrunk since she first did that terrifying “reach test” at the Assessment Day. It was the very first hurdle two hundred hopeful applicants faced at the door of the auditorium. They had to take off their shoes and touch a strip of tape with their fingertips. “Reach for your dreams, honey!” Anders had said in Allegra’s ear, before she knew his name. Later he said he was worried she’d dislocated her shoulder.
“Ooof.” She feels a distinct twang in her lower back as she stretches on tippy-toes to wedge the bag into place.
“I think that might be over the weight limit for carry-on luggage, ma’am.” She slams shut the bin.
“Shoes,” replies the caftan lady. “Us girls need our shoes.”
“Check it next time,” says Allegra, with her most charming smile, while she imagines pushing her thumbs into the stupid entitled woman’s eye sockets the way she was taught in school self-defense classes.
The woman sits down, huffy rather than grateful. Allegra now has a clear view of the aisle.
A small gray-haired lady is midway down the plane, pointing at passengers on both sides of the aisle one by one, as if she’s assigning tasks. It’s clear she is leaving ripples of mild consternation in her wake. Virtually every single head turns to watch her progress.
Allegra walks rapidly down the aisle. Two more call buttons light up, but she doesn’t stop. The lady is maybe seven rows ahead, still pointing, still making pronouncements. Allegra is gaining ground. A man wearing a Hawaiian-style shirt shoots up his hand like a student with the right answer. “Miss?”
“I’ll be with you in just a moment, sir.” She keeps walking, but once again she’s suddenly blocked. This time it’s the astonishingly pregnant woman, feet sturdily planted apart like a cowboy walking into a bar, hands on holsters, except hers grip the seats on either side of her.
“Just discovered I won’t make forty, which is bad luck for me,” she tells Allegra without preamble, as if they’re old friends. The giant firm balloon of her belly pushes into Allegra’s hip. Allegra thinks queasily of the gallons of water sloshing around in there. “That lady seems to think she’s some kind of oracle.”
“Yes, I’m so sorry,” says Allegra, trying to see past her. “I’m trying to stop her.”
“It’s okay. I just laughed. Prefer that to the horror birth stories people think I need to hear.” The pregnant woman chuckles. “Or the ones who say, ‘No getting off that roller coaster now! Sleep while you still can! You look like you’re about to pop any minute!’ ”
“You’re welcome to use the business-class toilet.” Allegra steps sideways and indicates the front of the plane.
“Oh, that’s okay, no special treatment required!” The woman taps her fingers against her belly like she’s playing an accordion.
Farther down the plane a woman calls out, “Jesus is the only true prophet, my dear!”
“Please.” Allegra wedges herself in front of someone’s knees to let the pregnant woman pass to the front of the plane unimpeded.
The owner of the knees takes this as an opportunity. “There’s a lady—”
“Yes.” Allegra doesn’t look at the passenger. “I know about the lady.”
Two more call buttons chime. A voice rises in consternation. The baby begins to cry again. Ellie and Anders are both still missing in action.
