Page 95 of Here One Moment

“But it’s rubbish. All children think they’re immortal! It’s got nothing to do with the lady!”

Sue looks up and sees that everyone is now looking at the page, either on their own phone or on someone else’s device.

She reads the next post and can’t help but snort.

TRYING TO FIND INFORMATION! I was told by the Death Lady I would die of alcohol poisoning, but I don’t recall her mentioning an age. I don’t know if she forgot because she was rushing or if she spoke too softly and I didn’t hear it. I understand other passengers received both an “age of death” and “cause of death.” I’d like to know my full prediction! It’s only fair! If anyone was sitting near me and remembers hearing my age of death please contact me urgently. I am an attractive brunette of slim but curvaceous build in my early forties. I was wearing a Dolce & Gabbana leopard-print jumpsuit. I don’t recall my seat number but it was an aisle seat near the front. P.S. I have recently begun exploring a “Sober Curious” lifestyle. If anyone wants to get together for a (nonalcoholic!) drink to discuss, let me know!

“She was the one who tried to get off the plane,” comments Sue. “Poor Allegra had to deal with her.”

“Who is Allegra?” asks Max.

“The beautiful flight attendant, I know you remember her.”

Max grunts. He does.

“The next post is kind of sweet,” says her daughter-in-law.

Sue scrolls to a picture of a woman holding a gardening fork, kneeling next to a rosebush, a watering can at her side, grinning at the camera, with a caption that says: I GAVE UP MY MARRIAGE AND MY CAREER THANKS TO THE DEATH LADY!

Sue recognizes her. She was the red-faced, frizzy-haired woman who suddenly called out, “Oh, can’t someone do something!” during the delay when the baby wouldn’t stop crying.

I don’t know if the Death Lady will ever see this page, but if she does, I want to thank her. I have never believed in psychics, but when she told me I only had nine years of my life left to live, it gave me the most amazing clarity about how I wanted to spend the time I had left. I have changed my whole life for the better. I asked myself, When are you going to start living, Philippa, WHEN? And that’s when I decided there was only one answer: TODAY, PHILIPPA, TODAY!! So I packed my bags, left my unhappy marriage, and left the city! Well, first I resigned from my high-stress corporate telecommunications job! Hooray! Why did I think I had to stay there forever? I don’t know! I am now working at a garden center in regional Victoria and I have a new passion for PICKLEBALL. I also have begun a new relationship with someone VERY SPECIAL. Ihave never felt happier or healthier. Thank you, Death Lady! You were the kick up the bum I needed! Whether I get more or less yearsthan you predicted, I will never regret the life changes I have made.

“Go, Philippa!” says one of the daughters-in-law, punching the air, but then she winces, “Oh, gosh, this one isn’t so…cheerful.”

Sue looks back down at her phone and reads:

Hi, everyone, my name is Geoff. My wife, Sarah, was on this flight and was told by the psychic that she would die of breast cancer at the age of thirty-seven.

She was pregnant at the time with our baby boy

“Knew it was a boy,” says Sue.

and I thought it was a disgusting thing to say to a pregnant woman, but Sarah wasn’t worried. She brushed it off. She’s very tough. That was until the news came out about the young girl who died in a car crash. My wife is only thirty-three and has no history of breast cancer in the family. She had no symptoms, so it took some convincing for a GP to send her for a mammogram. I think in the end she probably agreed just to shut Sarah up.

To everyone’s shock the mammogram did show something of a concern. Sarah had a biopsy last week and the results came in: “triple-negative breast cancer.”

It’s my understanding her cancer is treatable, but we will know more about what lies ahead when we see an oncologist tomorrow.

Okay, so here is my problem: My wife is adamant she will refuse any “invasive treatment” as she is convinced any chemo/radiation regimen will be unsuccessful and she is going to die anyway. She wants to spend the time she has left “celebrating life,” “making memories,” and ticking off stuff on some stupid “bucket list.” Sorry, but I have ZERO interest in “dancing under the stars” like I’m in a bloody Ed Sheeran song right now. She is writing letters to our son to be opened every year on his birthday. I want her to focus on being ALIVE for our son’s birthdays!!!

My wife had a friend who endured a brutal treatment regimen for many years and ultimately died anyway. She can’t stand to think of this happening to her. I understand this, but I’ve tried to tell her every case is different. I am hoping the oncologist will be able to convince her, but I am terrified she won’t budge.

I’m grateful to this psychic because if it wasn’t for her there is every chance my wife’s cancer might not have been discovered until it was too late, but at the same time I’m so pissed off. I can’t drag my wife to treatment. I’ve never been able to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. She is as stubborn as a mule.

I am desperate for any help anyone can offer tracking down this “Death Lady.” I have tried the airline, but they can’t do anything because of privacy issues. I am hoping she would be happy to tell my wife that even if she does have psychic abilities she is NOT one hundred percent accurate.

I am also keen to hear from anyone who may have already outlived the Death Lady’s prediction, thereby proving her wrong.

Fingers crossed: Nobody is one hundred percent accurate, right?

PLEASE HELP ME SAVE MY WIFE’S LIFE.

(I loved her from the moment I saw her.)

You poor man, thinks Sue.

She thinks of her conversation with the pregnant woman in the security line, how she spoke so cheerfully about her heartburn and swollen ankles, and now she’s dealing with cancer, when she should be enjoying the wonder of her first baby. Of course there’s never a good time for a serious illness. Nobody has time for it. Everyone has other plans.

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