Story starts at 5:37
(Ping) “Ladies and Gentlemen. Due to technical problems we are experiencing on board our Paris to Bristol flight today, the captain has decided to make a short stop on the island of Alderney for a few repairs. We apologise for the delay this may create and believe our short stay on Alderney will be around just three hours. Meanwhile, we invite passengers to disembark* and take some refreshments at Alderney airport. The cabin crew will now come and hand out vouchers* you may use to pay for light snacks at the airport.� (Ping)
The passengers on the Air France flight 1960 all started talking nervously at the same time. However, Stephen Burnett looked out of the tiny aeroplane window and began to wonder. Alderney. That name again - after all these years. Jane Dupont. The name of a girl just twelve years old - no, not pronounced in the French way but said “Dipoh�, which was the local Alderney pronunciation.
Stephen was nearly thirty-five years old now, so Jane must be the same age too. They went to school with each other. He remembered her hair - so black that it sometimes looked even a little dark blue or purple. Her eyes, a bright blue like the sky at midday on a gorgeous clear summer's day.
The plane began to circle, and as it leaned to one side, Stephen could clearly see the whole island as there were no clouds. Alderney was just five km long and two and a half km wide! France wasn't far away, just fifteen km to the east. Stephen still remembered all these details despite never having been there. Jane often told him about Alderney at school. She used to tell him how she wanted to go back there and live on that lonely island in the English Channel where she was born. It was this sort of surprising comment that had made her such an unforgettable person for Stephen.
The plane landed at the airport without any further problems. The passengers got off the plane complaining among themselves about how nobody had been given a good explanation about what the “few technical problems'' actually were. However, with their food vouchers* in their hands, they walked, in little groups, to the airport terminal, standing quiet and peaceful in the warm afternoon sunshine.
Once inside the terminal, instead of going to the cafeteria, Stephen went straight to a public telephone box and took out the Yellow Pages telephone book. Alderney only had a population of about two thousand, so if Jane was still living on the island, she shouldn't be too hard to find. The name of her parents' house had stayed in his memory, even after eighteen years since they had last spoken - Blue Gables. He found the number easily, dialled and waited, the heavy plastic phone smelling of old tobacco* smoke.
Her mother answered. Yes, Jane still lived on the island but she had now married and her surname was now Dankworth. But her mother wouldn't tell Stephen where Jane lived. Dankworth. Not a common name, thought Stephen, and, yes, there was just one entry under that name in the Yellow Pages. He dialled again. A woman's voice answered almost immediately.
'Saint Anne 579712,' The voice sounded rather weak, sleepy even.
'Jane?' asked Stephen. 'Jane Dupont?'
'Yes! Who is this?'
'It's Stephen. Stephen Burnett.'
'Erm. Stephen…' she repeated. She obviously hadn't recognised the name.
'From Cirencester School in Gloucestershire. We went to school together.'
'Stephen!' Jane suddenly sounded more awake. 'Hello!'
'Jane. I'm at Alderney airport - some technical problem with my flight. I've got a few hours. I thought we could meet up. Go out for a coffee or something.' And then he added 'If your husband doesn't mind.'
'Why should my husband mind?' Stephen realised he'd said the wrong thing, but Jane didn't give him time to explain himself.
'My husband isn't here, anyway. He's away for a few days…' Her voice sounded sleepy again, perhaps sad, and thoughts began to go through Stephen's mind.
'Why don't you come over?' Jane suggested. 'I'm warning you, I've had a few cocktails*! Come and visit, and I'll make you one.' When she laughed, Stephen recognised it - a silly, sweet laugh, just like the way she used to laugh at school when she was twelve years old.
'Do you know my address?'
'Yes,' said Stephen. 'It's here in the phone book.'
'See you in a bit* then,' she said and hung up.
There was just one taxi in front of the terminal. The taxi driver was looking annoyed that none of the passengers from the unexpected plane that had just landed were actually going to leave the terminal, so his face suddenly looked brighter when he saw Stephen approaching.
'Where would you like to go to, sir?'
A house called Blue Gables. It's in Saint-Anne. It's in…
'Yeah! I know it, sir!'
Of course, he did! On such a small island like Alderney, everybody knew everybody else.
A few minutes later, Stephen was ringing the doorbell*. He looked around as he waited. An attractive cottage with a blue roof and a large garden full of bright colourful flowers with a fishpond* in the middle. The sort of garden that Jane would have, Stephen thought to himself.
As the door opened, Stephen held his breath. Jane was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with the name of some university on it. Her hair, still very black, was pushed up on the top of her head with a few bits hanging down. Her bright blue eyes met Stephen's, and her smile took the breath from his mouth. In her right hand she held a glass of some light green and yellow liquid with a straw in it. Stephen noticed that she was studying him in the same way.
'Well, well, well, Stephen. After all these years!' she said.
'Lovely to see you, Jane,' said Stephen trying to sound as formal as he could. He suddenly wasn't sure what to do next. The events of the day: the Paris to Bristol flight, technical problems with the plane, the unexpected temporary stop on one of the smallest islands in the Bristol Channel, where, by chance, one of the most special people in Stephen's life lived. What else could he do but contact her. He had had no choice really. But now what…?
'Why don't you come in?' Jane said with the same bright voice. 'Perhaps you'd like a drink?'
Stephen was rather surprised to find that Jane's living room was quite messy. There were clothes here and there on the floor. The kitchen door was open and it seemed the washing-up hadn't been done for ages. She had to move piles of papers off the sofa so Stephen could sit down.
'I've been studying,' she said hurriedly like an apology. 'What do you do?'
'I'm a doctor. Heart disease. That sort of thing. I've just come from a conference in Paris. I'm flying back to Bristol.'
'Really,' said Jane. 'I remember you used to say you wanted to work for your dad.'
For a moment, Stephen wondered what she meant by that. His father was a writer. But they had just been children – and children say all sorts of things.
'Would you like a drink? I could make you a cocktail,' and she smiled again and pushed back some hair that had fallen in front of her face.
'No, please, don't bother. A glass of water would be fine.'
'Alcohol bad for the heart, right?' she joked, and turned to go into the kitchen before Stephen could answer.
She came back with a glass of water and two biscuits on a plate and sat down next to Stephen on the sofa. Stephen felt how close she was to him, her leg almost touching his.
'So are you married?' she asked with her bright voice again as though the question was of little importance.
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