Beatrix asked for a window seat so she could see the ocean, but of course it is hidden beneath layers of clouds. Up here, the sky is always blue, the horizon in sight. That original trip, the one that took two long weeks, is now reduced to a day on the plane. It’s amazing, really. Tomorrow she will see Gerald and Mrs. G. She will say goodbye to William.
She wishes now that she had told Mrs. G or Gerald that she was coming. Gerald telephoned with the details at the start of the week before she decided to go. Before Mummy made it possible for her to go. Before the assistant director at school was more than understanding. Absolutely, Susan said. You haven’t taken time off in years. A week, Beatrix said, I’ll be back in a week. School won’t even have started, Susan replied. Don’t even think about us. Take more time if you need it. Her plan is to stay at a hotel near the airport tonight and then take a cab out to Quincy in the morning. The service starts at ten. But she’ll need to call the house tonight, to tell them she’ll be there. She can’t just arrive. This can’t be about her.
As they descend, the clouds fade away, and the blue sea lies far below. Bea rests her forehead on the cold glass. Land comes into view, the gold of the beach marking the transition between the sea and what’s beyond. The place where William died. Goodbye, Bea whispers. Goodbye. The plane banks to the right, and all she can see is sky.