A near collision with an old-fashioned monoplane may have been a figment of jetliner co-pilot Adam Beale's disturbed imagination or a desperate attempt at communication by a daring aviatrix thought to have disappeared in the 1920s
I don't know why I enjoy reading thrillers from the 70s and 80s. Their plots seem fairly predictable, but when one says I picked up this for a bit of light reading, I'd prefer a book like The Sound of Wings over many of the new romance and chick lit stuff.
Old fashioned at best, with a touch too much of the condescension and social pressures of the times spoiling what could otherwise have been a good holiday read.