The figure was that of a woman. A woman who was familiar to me somehow and yet...

“Hello, Karen.” Her voice was thin and hollow, feint and yet clear.

I looked at the supine figure of Jemima lying beside me, her breathing deep and regular.

“She will not awake, Karen. You will not disturb her.”

“Who are you?” I spoke firmly and without fear.

“Don't you know me?” The reply came as a simple question, with little emotion.

“Mum?” I whispered.

It was as though a veil had been lifted and I could see her now, as clearly as the last time I saw her alive.

“But you are...”

“Dead?” She finished the sentence as a query. “Perhaps.”

I looked at her and saw she was looking at Jemima, sleeping soundly and totally oblivious to her presence.

I followed her gaze for a moment then turned back to her.

“I...” The words failed me then and the figure raised a finger to her lips.

“Do not be afraid, Karen,” she said softly, “I know about you two. I also know that you have been worrying about it.”

“You were always so straight laced, Mum. I thought you might disapprove of us.”

In the half light I could see her face clearly and she wore a sad smile.

“You have had a horrible life, Karen,” she began, “I have been watching you and seen how well you have overcome all the unhappiness you have suffered. How could I possibly disapprove of this woman who has given you the joy you have so long deserved?”

I looked down at Jemima again, my heart at ease now, then back at the shadowy figure at the end of the bed.

“There is something else troubling you, I know,” she said, “Your father.”

I nodded.

“Do not worry,” she continued, “I am pleased he has found peace at last. I always told you he was not himself. The nurse is a good woman and I am glad he has someone he can be happy with, someone you can both be happy with. Together they can put aside their past sadness and move on.”

“Mum...” I started to speak but my throat was so dry. “Are you happy?”

The figure smiled.

“Yes,” she replied, “I am in a good place.”

“Will I see you again?” I asked, the edges of my mouth beginning to twitch as a tear formed in my eyes.

“One day you will but not for many years. I cannot see into your future but I do know that your time is not yet come.”

The figure began to fade.

“Mum! Wait!” I called out.

“I cannot,” she called back, “My time here is not my own but be warned, Karen. Your life together will not be easy. Be strong, it will be worth it...” The words faded as her form slowly became transparent and finally vanished leaving just the shadows from the orange glow of the sodium street lamp outside.

I took a deep breath and lay back alongside Jemima. I felt a great weight had been lifted from me..

I understood what she meant by not being easy. Two women together as lovers was seriously taboo and we had to be so careful if we were to have a life together but my Mum had somehow given me a new strength and I knew she was worth fighting for..

I lay back, relaxed and closed my eyes once again.

I was aware of nothing more until my eyes snapped open again and instantly closed as the pain of the morning sun, streaming through the window, burned into my skull.

“Owww...” I groaned and, for a moment, I lay still until my eyes adjusted and I was able to open them just a little.

“Oh hell, the car!” I gasped. “What time is it?”

I reached across to the night stand for my watch and suddenly realised I was alone. My heart sank. Was I wrong? Had Jemima only wanted what all those boyfriends before had wanted? I looked around the room. Her clothes were gone!

So, that was it then. That was how my life was destined to be. A life of giving myself to whomsoever wanted my body, be it man or woman.

I sighed sadly and flopped back into the pillow in disbelief. Moments later I looked at my watch and saw it was almost eight 0'clock. With a heavy heart I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat upright.

I felt sticky and could smell the feint aroma of sex, lingering from the night before. I wanted to wash it away immediately so pulled on my robe and headed for the bathroom.

As I passed the top of the stairs I heard a board creak lower down and stopped in my tracks and spun around to see Jemima climbing the staircase very carefully carrying a tray with two cups and saucers, a teapot and a small vase with a daisy in it.

My heart soared! She hadn't left me at all.

“Jemima, thank goodness!” The words just seem to escape my thoughts.

She frowned.

“Thank goodness?” she enquired, puzzled, “Thank goodness for what?”

“That you are still here,” I replied.

“Still here?” she repeated my words again, “Why would I not be?”

“Oh, don't mind me, I am just stupid,” I answered, ignoring her question and taking the tray from her. “Shall we take this in my room? There is more space for the tray in there,” and without waiting for her reply I turned and headed for the door across from my mum's room.

As soon as I entered I gasped. Jemima's corselet was lying on my bed along with her stockings. It was then that I realised that she was wearing the night dress I had given her.

I began to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Jemima smiled and looked at me curiously.

“What is funny?” she frowned.

“Oh, nothing really,” I replied between chuckles. “It's just that I thought you had left when I saw your clothes were gone.”

“Oh, Karen!” she said, in a less than pleased manner. “Do you still not trust me?”

My heart missed a beat and I took the tray from her and placed it on the dressing table. Taking her hands I looked her straight in the eye.

“I trust you with my life, Jemima but old experiences are hard to put aside after so long and so many disappointments. Tell me you understand and forgive me, please?”

She smiled and visibly relaxed.

“Of course I do. One look at you and how could I not? I just didn't want to disturb you if I dressed before you woke.”

She leaned forwards and kissed me softly on the lips.

I put my arms around her neck and responded but after a moment she pushed me away.

“We don't have time for that now,” she whispered, “You have less than two hours before the car arrives and you cannot turn up smelling of us now, can you?”

She chuckled happily and I agreed, also laughing and so, together, we sat on the side of the single bed and drank our tea together.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. The car arrived exactly as planned at ten and took me off to the airport, leaving Jemima to tidy up and get dressed at her leisure. We had agreed that she would not stay so the neighbours wouldn't have anything to comment about

I was given a rapturous welcome at work. Everyone who could was there to welcome me back and Pamela herself took me to the boardroom where I spent most of the day with her and the directors planning my return to flying duties.

I could not be expected to fly right away in light of my journey home the day before. A psychiatrist, who was present at the meeting, had suggested that I work at the training school and get used to the simulated cabin in short stages before being sent aloft in an aluminium tube from which I could not escape if my fears overcame me.

That seemed to me, the best option and I agreed whole heartedly. It would also mean that I worked more sociable hours for a while and would give me the opportunity to get accustomed to my new found circumstances and build up a loving relationship with Jemima. We would be able to spend time together and really get to know each other.

For the following few weeks I assisted Pamela at the training school, refreshing the existing stewardesses and teaching the new ones. I concentrated on service and appearance at first.

Getting used to the training cabin took a little time and I spent most of my time, to begin with, in the class room but with the knowledge that I could not be trapped inside and gradually increasing my time there, I eventually got my confidence back but much of the following year had passed before it was agreed that I should begin to practise emergency drills with the trainees.

That was the most difficult part. At first I could again see the passengers crying out and the dead and injured people amongst the wreckage but, slowly and with determination, I overcame these obstacles until I was able to put those visions away and help teach the students with confidence.

The only good thing was that I was the sole crew member in the airline who had actually experienced the trauma of a real emergency and so I could demonstrate with absolute certainty that what we were teaching would indeed save lives.

My relationship with Jemima grew steadily stronger. My mother had been right, it was not easy keeping our feelings secret. She continued to live in Maida Vale at first and I remained in New Cross but our visits to each other became more and more frequent until, one day, we decided that the time had come for us to live together. I didn't want to live in Maida Vale so she said she would be happy to move in with me.

I declined.

It wasn't that I didn't want her there but I had finally accepted that it was time to break all links with my past and wanted to sell the house.

The airline had announced that it would be moving to Heathrow so we agreed that the best thing to do would be to sell both our homes and buy a house in Middlesex but first, she said she must see her husband in India and arrange a divorce. Only then could we truly be together as partners.

It was not unknown for women to live together but usually were unmarried sisters.

The houses were finally sold and we moved into a modest detached house in a leafy suburban street in Hayes, not to far from the airport but it was not until the following year, 1953, that her divorce was to be finalised.

During those months, time seemed to pass so quickly and I became settled and contented. The dreams had stopped and on several occasions we were able to take the boat train to France and visit my father, Françoise and the girls.

On the face of it, my life could not be better but there was still the problem of flying. I wanted so much to return to the air but, try as I might, I just did not seem to be able to conquer that final step. Whenever I entered the passenger cabin of a real aeroplane, the moment the door was closed, my mind would switch and I would start to panic, see the images clearly and always as vivid as the actual crash. I finally had to accept that I may never fly again!

Jemima never seemed to have any such problem. She had never been haunted by the dreams and she was quite happy to fly to the continent on her business trips. Even her flights, though, were becoming less frequent. She sold many of her businesses and kept only enough to give us a reasonable income. She dropped out of her social life completely, saying she had no need for it as all those people she mixed with were never real friends anyway.

There had been the inevitable newspaper articles asking what had happened to her and where had she gone but, as is the way with people, she soon faded from the public interest and we were able to make a life together, albeit a secret one.

I had a little time at Christmas 1952 and Jemima and I took the ferry across to France to stay with my dad and Françoise for the holiday.

It was the best Christmas I had ever had, a real family affair.

In the evening of Christmas Day we all sat together around the tree. We had eaten and drunk far too much and I was feeling very sleepy.

I sat on the floor with Jemima, my head on her shoulder and her arm around me.

Pascale was sitting in the armchair which we were resting against, with her legs curled under her, and Dominique sat in the other.

Suddenly, my dad stood up.

“I have something to say,” he began.

That seemed to get everybody's attention, except for Françoise, who had a very enigmatic smile on her face.

“Over the past eighteen months,” he continued slowly, “I think I can honestly say we have all had our lives turned upside down in a way that none of us could possibly foresee.”

That was met with total agreement shown with a nodding of heads all round.

“Do you remember Doctor Harlow, Karen?” He looked directly at me and I nodded.

“Do you remember that he asked if you believed in fate?”

“Yes,” I laughed, “I don't think I will ever forget.”

“And?” he quizzed.

“What do you think!” I retorted. That made us all smile.

“Good. Then what I am about to say won't surprise you then, will it?”

We didn't have to wait long.

“Seriously though, that crash last year was a terrible thing and caused so much heartache for so many people but just look about you. Out of the ashes has risen something wonderful.”

He looked around the room.

“You two have found a new life and happiness together for a start...”

Jemima and I looked at each other and nodded happily.

“Pascale has 'discovered' herself...”

She too was smiling.

“I have a girlfriend,” she said quietly, blushing furiously.

“And I, well we, have found love again,” he ended, turning around to look at Françoise who was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, “Not to mention having you back in my life again!” he suddenly added, turning back to me.

He was right, fate could not be denied, whichever way you looked at it.

He raised his glass.

“To fate!” he said loudly.

“To fate!” came the rousing reply as we all raised our glasses.

“Oh, by the way, Françoise and I are getting married,” he added quickly as he sat down, as though it was just an aside.

Françoise punched his arm playfully, giggling.

“Oh Dad! That's fantastic!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and immediately losing my balance and toppling over onto the carpet.

“Oops!” I said, “I think I have had a little too much wine and brandy.”

The laughter that ensued, filled the house. It had been so long sine I had felt such happiness. My first ever family Christmas and it was simply fantastic!

Before the war, we did celebrate Christmas but they were never happy times. My dad would invariably get drunk and be abusive until he passed out in the chair and my mum and I would enjoy the blessed relief for a couple of hours so this Christmas celebration was to be a time that would live in my heart for the rest of my life.

My dad married my new 'mum', Françoise, at the beginning of April, 1953 and my life was almost complete. Once again, I had a family, a happy family. A mum, a dad and two beautiful sisters.

The only thing I didn't have was a full time partner. Jemima and I had become inseparable but life in England was impossible for us to live as we wished and the strain of not being able to fly again was beginning to take it's toll on my health.

As time passed, I started to have problems sleeping. Although the memories were fading I would lie awake at night, panic stricken that the airline would, at some point, ground me permanently.

One morning, towards the end of the month, Jemima made an announcement over breakfast.

“Karen, we cannot go on as we are,” she said, quite out of the blue. “I have come to a decision.”

My heart leapt into my mouth as I was convinced that she was about to leave me and the slice of toast remained suspended in mid air in front of my open mouth.

“I think you should leave the airline and then we can leave England and move to France. What do you say?”

The toast dropped from my hand and seemed to fall in slow motion, hitting the edge of the table and landing on the floor in a shower of crumbs.

“Make a fresh start, you mean? Together?” My heart was pounding like a stem hammer.

“Yes, of course together!” she laughed. “We can live openly there.”

I jumped up and threw my arms around her, knocking the coffee cup from her hand in my joy. It crashed loudly but unnoticed to the kitchen floor, the remains of her drink splashing her legs.

After a moment of almost terminal strangulation, I released her from my vice like grip.

“I take it you like the idea?” she smiled.

“Oh yes, my darling, I do. I love the idea!” I gushed. “There will be so much to do though, to prepare and organise.”

Jemima didn't answer right away but seemed to have a rather enigmatic grin.

I frowned, wondering but not wishing to push her. Finally she chuckled.

“I have been thinking about this a lot. Since Christmas in fact,” she said. “I have made enquiries and your dad and Françoise have been looking for a home for us. They have found one or two suitable ones and we can go and see them next month when we go over if you wish?”

“Oh yes, Jemima, I do wish!” I almost shouted I was so happy.

“Good. There is something I have to do first but it means leaving you for a while.”

I stopped laughing immediately.

“Oh, don't worry, only a few days,” she continued quickly, seeing my fear. “I have booked a flight to India. I have to go and finalise my divorce. As you know my husband has been making it very difficult but we have finally come to a compromise and I shall go over and sign the papers next week. I have booked the return flight already!”

I noticed that the last sentence was accompanied by a huge, smile .

Again, I frowned. There was something more, something exciting, for her at least.

“Go on,” I said slowly, “I can tell there is something else.”

“I have booked a flight on the new Comet airliner that BOAC have just put in service!” she giggled. “I shall fly back from Calcutta on the second of May. Flight 783!”

“The new Jetliner!” I exclaimed, “Oh, Jemima, you lucky, lucky thing! Oh...”

My face dropped then.

“Karen?” she frowned.

“Oh, nothing. I just wish that I could come with you. It is such a wonderful aeroplane. We have talked of it at work. So fast and quiet. Stupid, stupid brain.” I banged the side of my head in frustration as I spoke those last words.

“Hey, hey, come on now,” she said gently, taking my wrist in her hands and pulling me against her. “I shall fly another route then. I'm sorry, I didn't think.”

“Oh no! That would not be fair. It is me that should be sorry. Please don't let my stupid fears prevent you from flying. I would hate it if you did.”

Jemima folded her arms around my waist and kissed me gently.

“I think we should clean up this mess...” and looked down at the pieces of china surrounded by splashes of coffee and the discarded toast.

To be continued...