Milton looked out of the window as the 787 descended. As the wings shuddered up and down, he caught glimpses of green fields, a highway with a long line of red lights, and a dense residential area. The wheels touched down with a soft jolt, and the engines roared briefly as the pilot applied reverse thrust. The plane came to a halt, and Milton undid his seatbelt as soon as the pilot turned the light off. It was very civilised in first, and, not for the first time, Milton couldn’t help but compare what it was like here with what he knew would be the case in economy. It would be a scrum now as all the passengers tried to get their bags from the overhead bins at the same time.

“Here, sir,” Amber said, handing Milton his carry-on bag.

“Thanks.” He pointed at Sakura. “I don’t suppose you could get hers as well, could you?”

Sakura was in her seat, her eyelids drooping. The flight attendant looked over at her quizzically.

“She’s had a little bit too much to drink,” Milton explained.

“I didn’t think she…” Amber started, then let the sentence drift away.

She turned to Milton, a frown on her face, and he realised what she was thinking: she knew that Sakura had not been drinking heavily, yet here she was, apparently drunk. She must have wondered whether Milton had dosed her drink with something. Milton thought that she was going to say something, perhaps that she would take care of Sakura and that he did not need to concern himself, but, with a little shrug, she gave Milton a thin smile.

“Of course, sir.”

Milton walked around the cabin until he was next to Sakura. He looked down at her. Her face was ashen. The realisation of what she had done, and what she was going to have to do now, must have broken through the narcotic fugue. She looked up at him with a fearful expression.

“I’m going to help you,” Milton whispered as he leaned down to her.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know you don’t. Remember—you’ve been drinking. Say it.”

“I’ve been drinking,” she repeated.

He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. She took a step toward him and stumbled. Milton grabbed her by the elbow and held her up. There was perspiration on her forehead, and she looked more ill than drunk. He had his work cut out for him.

“Come on,” Milton said. “We just need to get you through immigration.”

She found the strength to stand. “I can do it,” she mumbled.

Milton wasn’t sure if he believed her, but helped her as she slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Amber wheeled Sakura’s case over to them. “Here you are,” she said.

“Thanks.”