“Karen?” Pamela tugged gently at my arm. “Are you alright?”

I didn't answer. My jaw was clamped tightly closed and all my muscles were tensed, rigid.

I stared at the figure of the beautiful woman hanging in the belt of seat 25, her long, shining black hair hanging down to the cabin floor.

“Jemima...” I whispered, the fear once again clawing at my insides.

All the seats were now occupied but people were screaming, crying out for help and the smell! My nostrils were filled with the acrid fumes of Gasoline.

“Karen, you are trembling!”

Through the screams I vaguely heard Pamela's voice. and felt someone tugging at my arm.

“George...” Once again I whispered a name, hearing his voice calling out above the tumultuous noise, then pulled myself free of Pamela's grip.

“No...” I said, slowly shaking my head, “No, got to get out, can't open the door...” I tried to turn and run but all I succeeded in doing was to collapse to the floor in a tangle of crutches.

“Let me out!” I wailed, “Can't get out, Please... Get me out,” I sobbed as I tried to drag myself to the door.

I felt strong hands envelope me and lift me, carrying me through the door and down the steps into the warm summer sunshine.

“It's alright, Luvvie, I've got you, I'm here.”

“Dad!” I held him so tightly his neck must surely have been close to breaking.

I couldn't say much more, my teeth were chattering so much and even though the sun was scorching the tarmac I was shivering uncontrollably.

My heart, which had been pounding so hard that it felt as though it would explode through my ribs, was slowly returning to normal and I took deep lungfuls of fresh air, gulping down as much as I possibly could.

I looked at my dad and saw the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I saw them, all of them.” I said with difficulty between sobs, “They were screaming, dying...”

“I know, Luvvie, I know,” he replied gently, stroking the hair from my face and wiping away the tears with his handkerchief.

“This is how it was for you, isn't it?”

He nodded and I hugged him even tighter still.

We remained locked together until a small cough broke the silence.

“Karen, I, I don't know how to even begin to understand what you felt just then.”

I looked up from the seat where my father had helped me sit in the back of the ambulance and saw the worried face of my former tutor looking sadly down at me.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I can't go back in there,” I answered, “Not now.”

“I understand. Miles is relaying a call to the airline via the tower,” she spoke with deep concern in her voice. “He and John are very worried for you.”

“I don't know what to do,” I told her, “I can't go in there.”

“Don't worry, Luvvie,” my dad interceded, “You are not alone.”

A moment later John, the First- Officer appeared.

“We have to continue boarding,” he said but the airline have said that someone will be with you shortly. The ambulance will take you to the terminal medical centre.”

He looked nervous, unsure and looked at the Chief Stewardess.

“Will she be all right?” he whispered, thinking I could not hear him.

Pamela looked at me before answering.

“In truth?” she said, “I don't know.” and smiled a sad smile then, turning back to face him, “Tell them to release the passengers. I will be there in a moment.”

“It seems you are far more hurt than your dressings would suggest. If I can help in any way...” she said to me.

“I think you may be right,” I agreed, rather shakily as I was still trembling from the shock and fear I had felt. “I had no idea it would be like this.” I dropped my eyes and turned my face away.

“The Airline will look after you I'm sure,” she smiled.

“I hope so, I love this job.”

“I know,” she replied with that same sad expression that made me wonder just how much the airline would indeed help.

Pamela kissed me gently on the cheek and returned to the aeroplane after wishing me good luck and a few minutes later I was in the medical centre in the main terminal building where I waited patiently for an airline representative to arrive.

It was no more than thirty minutes later that the door opened and none other than the director who had visited me in hospital appeared.

“Hello, Karen,” he greeted me, with some difficulty it seemed. “Well, we do have a problem don't we.”

I nodded silently. I had no idea what to say to him and he didn't seem to have much more of an idea himself.

After an awkward pause he pulled up a chair and sat facing me.

“I will be honest with you,” he began, “ I have never had to deal with the experiences you have had.” I could almost see his brain spinning behind his eyes.”We have never lost an aircraft before so this is new to all of us.”

“I know,” I replied. “It is new to me too.”

Just then, my father spoke up.

“I do,” he simply said.

The director looked at him.

You do?” he said, “And who might you be?”

“I am a relative. I fought through two world wars and I know exactly how Karen is feeling at this moment. I would like to make a suggestion.”

“Suggest away, Mister... erm?”

Without giving his name, my dad continued.

“I would like to offer Karen a room at my farm until she is well enough to return home. I will get help for her.”

“Oh, well,” the director seemed doubtful, “I was going to arrange for her to return home by train and the ferry...”

“If she stays with me, if she wants to, of course,” he added looking momentarily at me, “I will offer a deal. I will not take anything for her staying with me but the airline will have to pay for any medical expenses that are incurred. I cannot afford that.”

The director looked at me.

“Do you think that would help you, Karen?” he asked.

I smiled a thin, weary smile.

“In all honesty, I don't know,” I looked at my dad. He seemed little surprised and I turned back to the director. “I would like to try though. I will not be alone, at least.”

He studied me for a moment, deep in thought, weighing up the options. After what seemed an age he made up his mind.

“Alright then,” he said, “I will call London. I don't expect an answer tonight though so I will arrange a hotel room for you Mister...?”

“Farmer,” my father replied at this second request.

“Farmer?” the director queried, “You are a close relative then?”

Again, my father did not answer but nodded, never breaking eye contact with the man in the suit.

The director frowned but made no further comment.

A few more details were exchanged and it was agreed, for that night, I would stay at the medical centre where I could get help if I needed it. The director then stood, telling us he would return in the morning with details of what the airline would agree to.

“Thank you,” my dad replied. “If it is alright with you I will stay here with Karen. I am sure she would prefer a familiar face if she has problems in the night. I will also telephone someone I know in Limoges who will be able to help.”

That night, the nightmares returned with a vengeance. It seemed that no sooner did I close my eyes that I was back inside the wreckage, trapped and afraid and each time, my dad was beside me, holding and comforting me until the panics and fears subsided. I am sure that it was his calming presence that finally allowed me to drift back to sleep as the early rays of the sun began to light the room with a deep blue light.

“Karen?” a soft voice behind me made me turn around.

“Jemima!” I exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“Shhh...” she said, putting her slender finger to my lips. “Follow me.”

Turning, she took my hand and guided me through a door, out of the darkness and into a brightly lit room.

I had to squint at first, the sudden change of light intensity hurt my eyes but, as they grew accustomed I could see that she had led me into a huge room, in the centre of which was a massive, four poster bed. I looked around and realised that was all there was in this brilliant white room.

“I told you this was the way but you didn't listen.”

I didn't reply but followed behind her as, hand in hand, we walked towards the bed.

My heart was beating strongly now and I began to wonder whether I should be trusting her and yet, I had no doubt at all that, wherever she led, I would follow.

We stopped at the side of the bed and she turned to face me and, without a word, leaned forwards and placed her lips against mine.

I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent and tasting the sticky wax of her deep red lipstick and relaxed my teeth as I felt her tongue run along my lips, wetting them and slipping softly between them. I accepted her willingly, eagerly, pursing my lips and sucking her tongue into my mouth, my own dancing around and caressing it as our lips pressed together

My arms enveloped her, pulling her to me and I felt hers do the same.

After several minutes she pulled away, moving back just one step and slowly tugging at the cord which secured my nightdress at the neck.

The soft fabric slipped from my shoulders and fell to the floor, leaving me naked in a pool of satin.

I stood stock still as Jemima took that one step back towards me and returned her dark, soft lips to mine. This time, I felt her hand against my small breast and a shock passed through my ever hardening nipple causing it to strain against the warm flesh of her palm, aching, throbbing.

I gasped and took a deep breath through my nose as her fingers explored the yielding gland. I could feel the tips pressing against my ribs as she squeezed it gently, massaging and manipulating and then, she broke away and lowered those beautiful lips to my straining nipple.

I could not prevent the moan that escaped as she sucked the hard flesh into her mouth, leaving traces of the ruby red lipstick around the areolae and the moisture beginning to form between my legs as the exquisite sensations ran through my whole body. It was far stronger than I had ever experienced before and I didn't want it to ever stop.

Indeed, Jemima didn't stop. She continued to suckle my breast but now I could feel her hand begin to move over the gentle curve of my Mons. I shuffled my legs apart, wanting her there, desperate for her touch as I felt her fingers delve in the tangled undergrowth of my course brown hairs.

My stomach was fluttering inside as though a million butterflies had been released and I trembled uncontrollably although no longer from fear but from lust, from desire. The feeling of being wanted, needed even, was so strong.

My fingers were entwined in Jemima's glossy hair as I pressed her to my aching breast.

I could feel the moisture lubricating her insistent fingers as they pressed into my hot moist groove, rubbing gently but firmly either side of the soft folds of my swollen petals.

The pressure as she gently closed her fingers, trapping my straining flesh whilst moving back and forth created wave upon wave of desire to flow through me and caused little tremors like tiny waves rolling up a deserted beach.

For a moment, her hand rose to the soft flesh of my lower abdomen then returned but this time, her finger slid easily over my screaming nub and between the pliant flesh of my lower lips.

When her finger finally entered me I gasped loudly, letting my head fall backwards, holding her even more firmly against my chest.

I was oblivious, now, of everything but the heat of her body against mine and the movement of her finger inside me.

With my head back, my mouth opened, causing my breath to hiss loudly as my lungs expanded, causing my chest to rise and fall as her soft warm tongue danced like a woodland sprite around my ever more sensitive teat.

“Oh Lord, Oh Lord,” I repeated, over and over, shaky, rasping words half spoken, half breathed, as she pushed deeper inside me, the heel of her hand pressing against my tender button, causing it to throb and grow harder, if indeed that were possible!

“So this is the way you choose?” the voice so sudden and unexpected that it startled me and I stepped back from Jemima. “This is not the way to happiness, Karen. This is wrong! Perverted!”

I tried to cover myself, my hand in front of my vagina and my arm across my breasts. I was excruciatingly conscious of the glistening moisture which matted my hairs and shone on my thighs.

I looked around and discovered that, once again, I was alone.

“Jemima? Where are you?” I called out but she did not reply.

The bright light was beginning to fade and the room was growing dim.

“You don't need her, Karen, she is not the answer,” the man's voice urged, “Follow me, I will show you the right way.”

The voice was familiar and yet I could not tell who it was.

“Who are you?” I called out, “Where are you? I don't know you!”

Once again, the small yellow flame flared then flickered ahead of me and I began to walk towards it.

“You cannot trust him, Karen, come back,” a woman's voice behind me urged.

“Jemima?”I looked back but the room was so dim now I could not make out who she was.

“I don't know what to do...” I shouted, “What do I do? Who do I trust?”

I squinted as I tried to see who it was then a beam of light illuminated her. I still couldn't see her face but she appeared to be wearing a dark cloak and some kind of stiff white hat.

“Follow your heart, Karen. Trust in yourself, in your own judgement. Follow where it leads.”

“Françoise!” I exclaimed, “Help me, please. Guide me. Tell me what to do!”

The thin beam extinguished and, once again, I was alone in the pitch darkness.

I sank to my knees, that awful feeling of panic rising once again in the pit of my stomach.

“Follow your heart, be true to yourself...” her voice trailed away into silence.

I turned back towards the flickering flame.

“If you choose that way, you choose disaster, Karen, trust me, I know about bad decisions!”

“The voice was familiar and yet...

“Fred?” I whispered, “How could I trust you? You betrayed me. Like every man in my life you took advantage of me!”

Around me the room changed. I was standing amongst rubble and I could hear explosions in the distance and a feint, far away flickering orange glow.

“Trust me, Karen, trust me!”

“Trust you?” I yelled, “Trust you? I would never trust you, ever!”

I turned away from the flame as it extinguished.

My sense of fear and confusion was diminishing a little as I looked around in the darkness.and then, slowly, the room began fade and the words echoed around inside my head as I opened my eyes, back in the real world:

“Follow your heart. Be true to yourself...”

My dad was sitting in the chair beside the bed in the medical room snoring softly.

He had slid sideways and his head was at a crazy angle to one side, resting on his hand.

I smiled as I looked at him. I could never have imagined that the person who would be there for me in my greatest hour of need would be the man who had been such a monster for most of my life.

I reached out and put my hand on his arm.

“Huh?” he jumped then groaned as he lifted his head.

“Oh, my neck!” he winced as he straightened it, “My wrist! Oww...”

I heard the crack as he moved his hand down, trying to exercise his joints.

“Ooh!” I said, “I felt that!”

“Hmm, me too,” he laughed and got to his feet stretching up. “Ahhh...”

“Did you manage some sleep?” he asked, as he massaged his stiff neck muscles.

“A little,” I replied. I wondered whether I should tell him about the dream but I had no idea how he would react. I kept quiet.

The next hour passed quickly. Breakfast was brought for us by an orderly and I got freshened up and dressed back into my uniform.

Soon afterwards, the airline's director appeared.

“Good morning!” he said, cheerily. “There is good news I think.” He looked directly at my father.

I too looked at him and frowned.

He smiled but said nothing, allowing the director to continue.

“I have been talking with the board and they have agreed that we will fund your treatment here, in France. Mister Farmer...” he turned to my dad, “I believe you have arranged for someone to meet us here to discuss the agreement and to accompany you back to Limoges?”

“That is right,” he replied, “Should be here any time.”

“Just a minute..” I interrupted, turning to my father, “How have you done all this?”

“Oh, just a telephone call,” he answered mysteriously. “I think you will be happy with what we have arranged.”

“And just what, exactly, have you arranged?” I was puzzled.

The director looked as puzzled as I felt.

“Didn't you tell her?” he said to my father.

“Not yet,” was the simple reply.

“Mister Farmer has arranged for you to stay at a place in Limoges where you will receive professional care. The airline have agreed to pay until such time as you are considered fit to return home.”

“I thought I was going to stay with you?” I queried, suddenly afraid that I was going to be alone again.

“We thought it better that you stay in Limoges and get proper help,” my father replied, still smiling, “I will visit you regularly, that I promise.”

“But where? Where will I be treated? Where will I stay?”

At that moment a voice from the doorway spoke up.

“With us.”

To be continued...