Will they?

On a cool, dark, late autumn night she gazed out of her third floor apartment window at the plane coming in to the airport on the other side of the city. It always reminded her of that film, “Close Encounters” with the flashing lights and seemingly ponderous approach which, in reality, was still faster than any car she had driven.

She could allow her attention to wander from her film, 'Persuasion'. She had seen it plenty of times. It lived in her mind and she only needed to put it on to act as a kind of trigger. Or maybe a comfort. Always with a glass of wine. Always with some expensive chocolates. Always late at night. Always cocooned in her fluffy pyjamas, fleecy cardigan and silly socks. Always with her feet tucked up under her, off the floor, curled within herself on the island that was her sofa. And always in the knowledge that tomorrow was a day off work. A ritual that usually had to wait until the end of her working week.


He looked out of the window as the plane banked on the approach to landing. His window seat hadn't been of much interest until now. Peering down at his home city, at the lights, at the roads with the beaming corpuscles of light pulsing along. It made the whole thing seem like a living entity. He didn't linger on anything profound though; he was tired. It had been a long three days at one of those conferences that seemed always to be more about image than content; he just wanted to get home now. At least it had been in Prague.

He was alone as were most of his fellow travellers. Suits, suits and more suits was the score; even with the women. There were one or two couples who were in suitless holiday mode but they were in a minority; they were the only ones who smiled.

The approach to landing always enthralled him. That slight risk of something going awry did lend a little frisson. It was more than that though. Sitting cooped up in a long metal tube with little to do other than read, eat, drink, snooze and go to the toilet tended to get a little samey after more than three hours. Don't get me wrong, he liked sitting, eating, drinking and snoozing. Going to the toilet gave a certain satisfaction too. But he liked to do all those things when he wanted to do them and in places that he wanted to do them in. And thirty thousand feet up along with a hundred or more strangers when he was tired was not of his choosing. So the landing gave promise of a break from that.


Persuasion was her fall back comfort blanket. She identified with the heroine because she was petite, shy and a little determined; just like the heroine in the film. Well, that was her image of herself. The hero fitted her ideal of a man too; sensitive, strong and all the rest. If only the reality of her life could allow such things. Alas, she was single, the wrong side of thirty and none of the guys at work fitted her ideal. Maybe she expected too much. That was the problem with watching this. Although it was a comfort it allowed her the space to think too much. So she took a swig, rather than a sip, of her wine.

Yes, she knew that the wine and the chocolates would make for a dream ridden night and, probably, a fractious and tired morning. That's why she always did this when she knew that the morning could be spent in a fuzzy haze.


The landing was smooth and the plane taxied slowly before stopping. Then there was that clunking noise as stairways were attached and doors opened in some unseen part of the plane. It always irritated him when people started standing in that crooked way that they do on planes; nowhere to go but still impatient to get out. Why? The pudgy guy in front of him did that. Just where did he think he was going? The doors were still closed and he wasn't going anywhere soon. Yet he and others stood in that awkward bent stance that bespoke impatience. The other extreme was the smug calm of the middle aged couple adjacent to him. They were making no move to stand or even tidy up their belongings. They would make a point of being the last off the plane, he guessed. That was just as irritating to him. Oh fuck it, anything would have annoyed him now. A glimmer of a smile hovered behind his face at the thought that the luggage handlers were the deciders on who would get away from the airport first. So he sat and waited too.


Persuasion was nearly finished. It was well after midnight; late for her. She had had nearly the full bottle of wine and a good half dozen chocolates which meant an adventurous night. Her ritual was coming to an end and she waited for the film to end with a little impatience. She was tired and her well rehearsed routine had done its job up to a point. She had forgotten about work but had ended up pondering on her singleton status.

As the credits rolled she dwelt on that; on that fact that she had been on her own now for over six months. Living in the apartment was fine. There was plenty of activity; people coming and going; traffic passing her windows all the time, even in the sky. That just emphasised her aloneness at times. Mostly it didn't matter. She liked being detached from the maelstrom of life most of the time. A lot of her neighbours seemed noisy and shallow as did the majority of her work colleagues. She didn't know many other people. Sometimes she missed that companionship of a snuggle up with someone rather than a teddy bear. Someone just to talk to about everything and nothing; but at least something.


He was one of the last off the plane, bidding a weary goodbye to the smiling face with the care worn eyes of one of the cabin crew. The smug couple followed him. Everyone trooped along through the passport checking and along to the carousels. By the time he got there they were just starting; the guy who had been crookedly standing in front of him perched in pole position; seemingly convinced that his action would will his luggage to be first down the carousel. It wasn't. It was the smug couple's smart red cases that led the way. Damn. He diverted himself by switching on his mobile. Why did he do that? There would be nothing he could do about any message after midnight; he had no loved one keeping a warm bed for him; or a warm heart to lose himself in. There was nothing. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or lonely. A bit of both.

Slowly the temporary little airborne community dissipated as more and more bags arrived. His bag appeared and pushed those thoughts away. He swept it up and headed for the exit, passed the taxi drivers holding up signs and families waiting to help with luggage; out into the cool night air. It jolted him a little. The exit from the plane had been via a covered walkway and he hadn't experienced fresh air for some hours when it had been a little warmer and lighter and he hadn't been so tired. Without detouring he aimed for the waiting taxis and was soon able to sit in the warmth of a black and white car driven by the obligatory Asian Muslim driver.


She turned the TV off and took her empty glass into the kitchen to rinse under a tap. It was that time of year when it got chilly but was not cold enough to turn on the central heating. So she kept her fleecy cardigan on as she tidied. She normally went to bed after her Persuasion fest. Now, although tired, she wasn't sleepy. Too much wine no doubt. She picked a book to read; no, not a Jane Austen book. Even she had to have a change from that. A recipe book by one of those celebrity chefs that had been a lazy Christmas present from someone. She couldn't remember who. A vague idea of cooking a nice meal slid through her mind as a nice option if the weather was crap the following day.

A last look out of the lounge window and at the stars was part of her ritual. She performed that part of it and then went to her bedroom and threw the book on the bed while she brushed her teeth and had what she hoped was a last wee for the night. Then she climbed into bed, still wrapped up in her fleecy cardigan and still with her silly socks on. She'd take those off once she warmed up. Opening the book didn't open her mind to the contents though. The words just sat there without entering her mind. She read a risotto recipe three times before giving up, taking her socks and cardigan off and putting the light out.


The taxi driver was good. The man probed a little to gauge if his passenger wanted to talk and soon gathered that this guy was too tired to be bothered. So the taxi driver stayed politely and considerately quiet; and got a good tip when the vehicle pulled up outside an apartment block. He got out of the taxi, more fatigued than ever now. His body seemed to know that bed and, maybe, a large whisky were only yards and minutes away. He fumbled for his keys and found them as the taxi pulled away with its very grateful driver.

Before he walked up to his door he paused. He didn't really know why but found his eyes wandering up to his neighbour's windows. He imagined a fleeting glimpse of a shape, a human form, standing briefly at one of them before disappearing. Was she still up? He looked at his watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. Surely not. But he still looked up, as though wishing she had seen him, and wondered if the bonny little brunette was awake. He hoped so.


She had lain awake and heard a car pull up outside. Bugger, her nosiness forced her out of bed and gave her no choice but to look out of her window. She had blinds and had left them open. And there he was. Her neighbour; that tall man who seemed nice but who was often away and who seemed to be quieter than the rest. She lingered a little too long and he looked up. As though wanting him to see her she didn't pull away immediately and, even then, stayed in the shadows watching him watching where she had been. Had he seen her? She hoped so but then was embarrassed at the thought. Bloody wine.

She went back to her bed as he disappeared from view and listened. Eventually she heard the noise of doors shutting quietly; not the loud slamming of an inconsiderate drunken neighbour. She got back out of bed and went into her living room to look out at the glow of light emanating from his living room. She could see his balcony was nicely lit up. She switched on her own light. He'd see she was up.


He had entered his apartment quietly and dumped his bag in the hallway. That could wait until the morning. Into the lounge and on with the light he wasn't ready for bed straight away. He was one of those who needed a ritual of winding down. Sometimes a book, sometimes a film. Tonight it would be a large whisky and just a sit down while his thoughts meandered over the images of the past three days. And her too. He found himself thinking of his neighbour. That quiet little woman who intrigued him.

The night sky was still clear. It was still dry and not too cold. He opened the door to his balcony quietly, but not as quietly as he could have. He hoped she was awake and still up. Her living room light was on. His heart fluttered just little and he hadn't even had a drink yet. He turned to look out at the night sky, at the stars, at the street down below and the other apartment blocks with their, mostly, black windows. He absent mindedly wondered what the other lit windows hid. And wondered if she'd come out onto her balcony.


She hovered in the shadows and saw him standing with a glass in his hand. Should she nonchalantly go out onto her balcony? She had every right to. But it would look obvious. She wasn't an obvious woman. But she had had some wine.

Her hand went over to the door handle.