10. Mrs. Henderson

Mrs. Henderson was not happy about the flight—not happy at all. It wasn't that she hadn't flown much before; in fact, she thought of herself as quite a hardened traveller, going as she did every summer to visit one of her numerous relatives in various parts of the world. She was on her own; her job was well-paid, and she lives quite modestly for the greater part of the year, so that when holiday time came around she was able to undertake quite spectacular journeys. Why, only last summer she had flown out to visit her younger daughter in Auckland, and had returned by way of Japan and the States, and in all those many hours of flying she had not felt the slightest discomfort. In fact, she had thoroughly enjoyed it.

Why, then, this nagging fear about such a short journey? After all, Amsterdam is only a stone's throw from London in terms of air travel. She had done the trip before, several times. No sooner are you up and your seat-belt undone than you have to fasten it again for the landing at Schiphol.

"Good morning, Madam," said the pretty hostess, with a flashing smile, as Mrs. Henderson arrived, a trifle breathless, at the top of the entrance stairs. "May I see your boarding-card, please? 25 F. Yes, that's right at the back of the aircraft, on the left, just by the emergency door."

"Thank you," murmured Mrs. Henderson. She knew perfectly well that the seat was next to the emergency door. She had chosen it for that express reason, although she could not have said why she wanted to be in that particular seat on this particular flight, when such fancies had never troubled her in the past.

As she carefully folded her tweed coat and tried to fit it neatly into the minute cupboard that was provided for the purpose above her seat (she decided that her hat, small though it was, had better stay on her head), a phrase rang through her head.

"Second sight, that's what she has. Second sight, they call it."

It had been a family joke, some twenty-five years before. Their next-door neighbour at that time, a somewhat simple-minded woman by the name of Nellie Parsons, had asked Mrs. Henderson (young, newly-wed Mrs. Henderson as she was then) to help her choose a holiday hotel. Mrs. Henderson had told her that she didn't think the Hotel Majestic (which Nellie had already tentatively decided upon as it was marginally cheaper than the others) looked very good, and said that if she were going to Braydon for her holiday she would rather stay at the Hotel Bella Vista. Nellie was only too glad to have her mind made up for her, and had a most enjoyable holiday with her children at the Hotel Bella Vista, marred only by the fact that during their stay there was a disastrous fire at the Hotel Majestic, and six people were killed.

When she came back to Downton Avenue, she was lavish in her. praise of Mrs. Henderson's prophetic powers.

"Just think; We might all have been burned to death in our beds. What an escape! Second sight, that's what she has. Second sight, they call it."

And it was useless for Mrs. Henderson to protest that she had simply thought that the Hotel Bella Vista, on the strength of its brochure, looked more comfortable. She and Henry had often laughed about Nellie's claim that she had second sight. But why should it have come into her head just now?