SHORT HAULS
A collection of short stories
Don't have time to get into a whole book, but just want to escape for ten minutes? Well you've come to the right place!
Sometimes I don't have the time to write novels either, so instead I pen short stories , and since 2024 I've been turning true life aviation events into fictional tales for The Red Eye podcast.
Make sure you subscribe to my site for updates about when I publish new stories and read them here first.
Now grab a coffee and prepare for flight...
A Flight Back in Time
The Red Eye Podcast, Season 1, Episode 6
~ when we go back to the 70's to find airport anarchy and avian tragedy...
In our quest for stories we’ve reached out to crew past and present… and spoken to more than one ex flyer who was able to take us right back to the early days of flying. I mean, perhaps not as far back as the Wright Brothers, but to that point in history when air travel was both prestigious and luxurious. To the 1970s. Picture what you think of air travel now… is what you see a cramped short haul plane with seats that are fixed upright and lives up to its reputation as a bus in the skies? Or you travel long haul, but turn right on boarding? Perhaps you are one of the lucky few who turns left… the business class cabin? Or first? However you travel though, and in whatever class, I can guarantee that how you see air travel now is as far removed from those early days as, well, as a DC-10 is from an A380. Let’s take the crew, for instance. Yes, a flying career is still somewhat tough to get into, but back then it wasn’t even something most people would dream of. But if you did, and were brave enough to apply, if you were slim and attractive, young and unmarried, then you had to be prepared for scrutiny that has no place in today’s society… Could you imagine being weighed for a job these days? And then weighed again every shift to make sure that you hadn’t been eating too much from the cheese trolley? Or imagine now, as a woman, signing your contract and agreeing that you would retire peacefully at the age of thirty-two? And the passengers, they were different too. There were no sweatpants and sneakers in the cabin, oh no! If you were rich enough to be flying then you were getting dressed up for the occasion, and nothing short of your Sunday best!... it was a reserve of the wealthy and successful, even if you were turning right. In this episode we have blended a few great stories from a stewardess at the much-loved British Caledonian, or BCal as it was known in the industry. Flying out of London Gatwick in the 70’s and 80’s and remembered fondly for its stylish, tartan uniform, it was revered as the UKs foremost independent airline of its time. So, if you’re ready, let me take you back to the BCal days, the days when flying was a luxury… ********** ‘So, they just didn’t move?’ Marjory had popped her head around the curtain at the L2 door. ‘I swear to you,’ Patricia drew in a deep puff of her cigarette, flicking the ash into a plastic cup on the galley side. ‘They just sat there. At first we thought they just didn’t understand us, but I mean, even if you don’t understand English, you know when your plane has just skidded off the runway surely? There was us shouting our heads off for them to get off and they just sat there!’ The curtain swished back and Marjory emerged in her white blouse ready for the meal service. ‘So let me get this right, you had one hundred and nineteen passengers and they were all Jehovah’s Witnesses?’ Patricia nodded, blowing cigarette smoke out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Yep, every last one of them. They were going to a convention apparently.’ Marjory was frowning as she hung her other blouse in the wardrobe. ‘And they refused to get off, why?’ ‘They thought it was their calling, didn’t want to mess with fate,’ Marjory laughed, shaking her head. No matter how many times she told the story she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. ‘Imagine if we’d been on fire?’ ‘Well, you wouldn’t have stayed on board, would you!’ ‘Heck, no.’ Patricia put out her cigarette under the tap and dropped the butt in the cup, pushing it back under the water boiler for later. Thankfully, apart from skidding off the runway and coming to a stop on the grass, that had been the end of the emergency and so she hadn’t had to break protocol and get off before the passengers… but after running the scenario over in her mind several times now, she had to agree with Marjory and admit she would have saved her own life if they had really chosen to stay on board. ‘And then what happened?’ ‘Well, I think they eventually realised it wasn’t their time and that they weren’t going to die that day, so they just kind of got up and slid slowly down the slides.’ ‘Unbelievable.’ Marjory was still shaking her head in disbelief as she put on her white gloves. Patricia followed her lead and put hers on too. ‘Right, let’s get this done.’ The two girls walked up to the front galley where trolleys were laid up ready for service. It was only just over six hours to Lagos and the First Class service would take most of that to deliver. ‘Do you mind carving?’ Patricia asked. ‘I just can’t get the slices thin enough.’ ‘Perfect team,’ said Marjory as they wheeled the steaming meat and sides into the aisle. ‘I hate silver service.’ Patricia smiled and tapped the spoon and fork that were already in her hand together. ‘Well, Miss Jewell, we should work together more often.’ ‘Yes, Miss Biddlecombe we definitely should. Mr Eastman,’ she set the brakes on the trolley and smiled down at 1A. ‘What can myself and Miss Biddlecombe serve you today?’ ********** Marjorie emerged from the flight deck just as Patricia came back into the galley after offering the cigar service. The air in the cockpit was foggy and made her yearn for a cigarette. She looked at her watch and decided there was just about time, pulling her gloves off by the fingertips and taking the packet out of the small stowage where she had left one. She offered one to her friend. ‘No thank you, I’m trying to cut down,’ she said. ‘How are the pilots?’ Asked Patricia. ‘Handsome,’ said Marjorie with a wink. ‘Which one?’ Patricia laughed as she lit her cigarette. ‘Both, either will do,’ said Marjorie. ‘I have three more years to marry a pilot and start having children.’ ‘You and every girl I fly with lately,’ Patricia rolled her eyes. It was true, almost everyone she flew with lately was dreaming of marrying a pilot and having children. Not her though, she was already engaged to be married to Edward, although she had insisted on a long engagement when he had asked her, as she wasn’t quite ready to give up this life just quite yet… and besides he was off on another tour with the Navy soon, so that would buy her at least six more months… ‘Great job girls.’ The purser came into the galley just as the seatbelts came on for landing. ‘Oh heck,’ she said as she checked herself in the mirror on the fridge door. ‘They are still clearing in in Economy.’ ‘Always the same on these flights,’ sighed Patricia, dousing her cigarette. ‘I guess we had better get changed then Marj.’ ‘Yes, I’d guess we’d better.’ ********** The DC-10 pulled slowly onto stand and the manager stood bent over, looking through the window as the jetway rolled slowly towards them. ‘Did we lock the money away?’ she asked over her shoulder. ‘Yes, I saw the economy purser do it when I was in there,’ said Patricia. After a spate of robberies in Lagos airport it had been deemed safer by the company that the duty-free monies be locked in a safe in the cockpit while the plane was on the ground here. They had all welcomed the news as no one enjoys getting robbed after a busy flight, do they?! ‘Great,’ she said. ‘My goodness, what a welcome,’ she sighed and stood up straight. ‘I still find it so unnerving when they meet us with a gun slung across their chest.’ ‘Oh, me too,’ agreed Patricia. As much as they were reassured that they only had rubber bullets and were there for their safety, having to have an armed guard everywhere you went here was surely a sign that you weren’t particularly safe, wasn’t it? There was a knock on the window and the manager lifted the handle to open the door. An armed guard, or so she thought, stood next to the member of ground staff. Neither of them was smiling. ‘Madam, please do not be alarmed, but, I am afraid the airport has been taken over. Please ask your passengers to remain seated.’ Patricia froze, holding her breath as the ground agent spoke. She looked at the gunman now and realised that he wasn’t the friendly security guard that was there to protect them. Indeed, with his gun now pointing in her direction, he was quite obviously the very opposite. The manager picked up the phone and made the announcement. Patricia could hear the tremble in her voice as she told them there was a ‘situation’ at the boarding door. ‘Now let me speak to the captain,’ he said. She dialled the number and handed him the handset. ********* ‘Well ladies and gentlemen, we have just been advised that, um, Lagos airport has been taken over by rebel forces,’ there were muffled cries from the cabin as the captain spoke over the PA. ‘We’ve been assured of your safety, so please do not panic. We plan to comply with their instructions and then hopefully we will be on our way. We do ask you to all stay seated for the time being and do anything that is asked of you.’ Patricia couldn’t help thinking that he sounded surprisingly calm, but then, he wasn’t stood here, like they were, with a gun pointed at him, was he? The rebel grunted something that Patricia couldn’t understand, tipping his gun at the ground agent. ‘Can I please see the manifest?’ He asked the manager. She nodded and flicked through the paperwork in her hand that she had been preparing to hand over, pulling out the reams of paper that listed every soul on board. She gave it to him and he scanned down until he found what he was looking for. ‘22C,’ he muttered quietly, before saying something to the gunman. He took a sharp breath in and stepped onto the plane, turning right into the cabin. The gunman stayed where he was. Patricia thought she might faint and reminded herself to breath. She watched as the agent knelt over the Nigerian man in 22C, who rose to his feet and calmly took his bag from the overhead locker. ‘Thank you,’ he said as he got off. His face was kind and accepting, as if he knew why they had targeted him. ‘Goodbye, Sir,’ they echoed, all of their voices sombre. Patricia could have cried. In her mind she wished him good luck and hoped that he would be okay. And then they were gone. Just like that the jetway was empty and they stood in silence waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Nothing did. Nothing happened the next hour, or the one after that. Nothing happened until eventually the Captain’s radio came to life in the cockpit. ‘BR355, you can deplane. The airport is clear,’ came a cheerful voice. ‘Roger that,’ he replied. ‘Airport is clear, deplaning now. Thank you, Sir.’ ‘Have a nice day,’ came the reply. ‘Yes, we will now, thanks,’ he said. He picked up the interphone and called L2. ‘Patricia, L2,’ Patricia answered the phone. ‘Patricia, it’s the captain. We can get the passengers off, the airport is clear,’ he said. ‘Oh, thank heavens,’ she said with a huge sigh, feeling the relief flood her body. She covered the mouthpiece and spoke quickly to the manager, they had both stayed together at the door this whole time in case they had come back. ‘Airport’s clear, we can get them off,’ she said. ‘Anything else Captain?’ ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Can someone bring us up a bottle of scotch from the bar, I think we need a debrief!’. ‘I’m on my way,’ she laughed. ********** ‘It was beyond your control,’ the captain was resigned about the events from the day before as the Duty Manager apologised for what they had been through. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘but if I had been here they would have known my feelings about it,’ he said sternly. ‘Madam,’ he turned to the manager who was standing behind him. ‘Here is your manifest,’ he handed her the wad of paper. ‘Air France have cancelled so we have taken some of their passengers and will be full. Abiola will escort you and your crew to the gate.’ He swung his arm towards the ground agent, who was accompanied by a real security guard this time. ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking it from him and tucking it into her bag. Patricia stayed close to the front as they walked together to the aircraft, listening to the conversation between the captain and the ground agent. ‘Probably a good job he wasn’t here then,’ she heard the captain say. ‘He might have got himself killed.’ She was surprised to see the agent smile widely and shake his head. ‘No, sir, Mr Obasanjo is a very respected chief, he would be allowed to make his feelings known.’ The captain turned to look at him and Patricia could see his eyebrows raise under the peak of his hat. ‘A chief you say?’ ‘Yes,’ Abiola nodded, still smiling. ‘We have many chiefs in Nigeria, some are not very important, but they are all respected.’ ‘Even ones that work in the airport,’ the captain said with a grin. ‘Yes, sir,’ Abiola nodded. Inwardly Patricia laughed. That was why she wasn’t ready to leave flying yet… she still hadn’t seen and heard it all, so to say! ********** ‘Would you like champagne?’ Patricia offered the tray of coupe glasses to the American couple who had just boarded. ‘Well, certainly,’ the gentleman took two glasses, handing one to his wife, who smiled at him but never looked at Patricia. ‘Are you going onwards to America?’ she asked, looking at them both. ‘Yes, yes we are, home to Mississippi,’ he replied. ‘We’ve had a blast, but it will be good to get back, hey love?’ ‘Yes, it will,’ she said, taking a sip of her champagne and smiling at him. ‘I bet you’ve missed home,’ Patricia asked the lady. She ignored her and looked down at her glass. ‘Yes, she has,’ the gentleman replied on her behalf. ‘Oh, well, welcome on board,’ Patricia said, perplexed as to why the lady seemed unable to answer for herself. ‘Madam, would you like me to hang your coat,’ she asked, making one last attempt at engagement. Still she looked down. ‘I’ll bring them up in a minute,’ the man smiled. ‘Thank you.’ Patricia nodded and walked back to the galley. ‘Odd,’ she said to herself, shaking it out of her head. She poured herself a glass of water. After the events of the day before there had been a rather late debrief, or room party as it became, and she was feeling a little dehydrated. ‘All okay in there?’ she called through the open cockpit door. ‘All good thanks,’ one of them called back. She turned around as the man arrived holding his wife’s coat and his own. ‘Mind if you hang these for me, Miss?’ ‘Certainly, Sir,’ Patricia smiled, taking them off him with her gloved hands. ‘Sir, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is your wife okay?’ she asked, hoping that her judgement of him so far as open and approachable was right. ‘She’s fine,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask? ‘Oh, she just seemed upset about something.’ Patricia said, feeling herself blush. She shouldn’t have asked. ‘I must have been oversensitive when she didn’t answer me.’ ‘Oh that,’ he grinned. ‘Yes, she’s a little old fashioned, I’m afraid. Been brought up not to talk to servants.’ Patricia’s eyes widened. Did she just hear that correctly? He must have read her face. ‘No offence,’ he added quickly, flicking up the palm of his hand at her. ‘Oh, none taken,’ she lied, pulling her lips into a tight smile. ‘None taken at all,’ she called after him as he left the galley. ********** ‘Come with me,’ the manager tapped Patricia on the shoulder. She had been a thousand miles away as they waited for the last couple of passengers to arrive. ‘I might need a witness.’ Whatever now, thought Patricia as she followed her down the aisle and into the economy cabin. Around row 50 they stopped and the manager looked down at the large lady who was sat clutching a bag on her lap. ‘Madam,’ she said. ‘I understand you may have a live animal in your bag.’ She said it with a serious voice. The lady looked up and nodded. ‘A parrot,’ she mumbled. ‘Madam, I am ever so sorry, but we are not permitted to take live animals, or birds, into the UK without the right documentation… and certainly not in the cabin. I’m afraid if you wish to continue with your flight you will need to leave the parrot here. The lady shook her head firmly. ‘You are not taking my parrot,’ she said, glaring straight ahead, her arms over the top of the small case. ‘Well then I am afraid that you will have to get off,’ the manager said, stepping back to make room in the aisle for her to stand. She shook her head again. ‘Madam I am sorry but we simply cannot allow this,’ the tone of her voice crept higher. ‘Either the parrot gets off or you will both have to.’ Patricia held in a laugh, this whole trip was becoming a parody of bizarre situations. When the lady made no effort to move the manager turned around. ‘Can you get the Duty Manager Miss Jewell,’ she said with a sigh. Patricia nodded, thinking that that was probably a good idea. After all, he was a respected chief so she was bound to do what he said, right? She couldn’t have been more wrong, nor could she have anticipated what would happen next. ‘Madam,’ he said, standing next to the lady. ‘You must give me the parrot.’ He reached over to take the bag and she batted his hand away. ‘You are not taking my parrot,’ she said. ‘Then you must leave the aircraft,’ he said matter-of-factly. She shook her head. He took in a deep breath and stepped as close as he could to her. ‘Madam, we cannot take off with a live parrot, so if you won’t give me the parrot you cannot go to London. Do you understand what I am saying?’ Patricia looked on at the stalemate that was unfolding, anticipating his next move. Perhaps he would get a scary security man with a big gun to make her move? That would work with most people, right? ‘Okay, okay,’ he bit his lip and took a deep breath, looking upwards as he took a moment to think. ‘How about,’ he said slowly, ‘you let me see the parrot?’ The lady looked up at him, her face unsure. ‘He is sedated, right?’ She nodded. ‘Okay, let me see,’ he said, ‘and if he is truly asleep maybe I will let you go? Okay?’ Patricia didn’t believe him, surely he couldn’t expect them to take the flight knowing there was a live animal on board and knowing that they were breaking the law on landing? For some reason though, the lady did. Slowly she clicked open the fasteners on the small case and opened it to reveal the sleeping bird, who had been placed on a knitted blanket. Patricia leaned in and watched as he reached in with both hands, first smoothing the feathers down along the body, then moving his thumbs either side of its head and running them down until he picked the sleeping bird up…. And wrang its neck. Patricia threw her hand to her mouth to stop the scream escaping. Laying it back down on the blanket he turned to the manager, his face serious. ‘You can depart now,’ he said with a shake of his head. ********** With 237 passengers and one dead parrot on board the plane taxied out to the runway. Patricia still had a sick feeling in her stomach as she looked out of the window. The lady had seemed strangely unemotional when it had happened, had appeared emotionally unattached to the poor bird. The Duty Manager had seemed to think that she was taking it to France to sell, but whatever her reason, well, it hadn’t ended well for either of them, had it? Patricia leaned back, her hands under her legs and head against her headrest as they accelerated for take off. Perhaps that date when she would be ready to leave flying, the time when she would feel she had seen, and heard, it all, was closer now than it ever had been before….
The Red Eye Podcast, Season 1, Episode 4
~ the one where a so-called celebrity creates chaos in the cabin...
Somewhere in the sky, in the middle of the day on a flight to JFK, a middle-aged lady was spotted running down the aisle naked from the waist down. No one knows how she had come to be this way, perhaps she had simply forgotten to re dress herself after going to the toilet? At the point at which the crew were alerted to what was happening the situation soon became almost comical… a line of crew chasing her around the cabin wielding a blanket with which they hoped to restore her dignity.
The chase went on for some time as she led her pursuers up one aisle and down the next, and all the while she seemed to be enjoying the game she had created. When she did eventually stop, before they had a chance to cover her up, she threw herself down across an empty row of seats, opened her legs wide in the air and asked the unassuming man opposite to ‘fertilize’ her!
This lady needed saving from herself, and the shocked passengers had certainly seen enough… but despite their best efforts to make her comply, the crew failed to persuade her to get dressed and behave appropriately. In the end, the only choice they had was to restrain her in her seat so that, well, so that they could get on with the rest of their work without having to worry about what she would do next…
So, now that I have your attention, let me introduce to you the concept of passenger restraint; the act of physically restraining a passenger, literally handcuffing them and strapping them to a seat with colour coded belts… that is if we can get them to a seat, stories have been told of particularly violent offenders being so hard to control that the crew have had no choice but to leave them on the floor once they have been secured.
As crew we do everything we can to avoid getting to this stage, restraint is never something we want to do… So, we stop people drinking before they get drunk; when they are angry we try our best to calm them; when they are fighting amongst themselves we try to diffuse the situation and separate them if we can… but sometimes no matter what we do to avoid it, some passengers just leave us with no other option… because, if they are so far past reasoning with that they could endanger other passengers, or indeed the safety of the aircraft, it’s not like we can throw them out is it?… even if we wanted to! And so, each year in training we refresh our knowledge of how to do it, how to use the handcuffs, how to apply pressure to the right places to make them comply without causing harm, how to strap them safely to their seat so that they can’t get out. If we are honest, most of us wonder how it will work out if the assailant is two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, but we push that thought to the back of our minds and hope that we never find out…
It is never an easy call to make, but if you cross that line, then make it we must, no matter who you are …
Midday, shortly after the first meal service. London Heathrow to Los Angeles.
​
Amy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Yes, Madam, how can I help?’ she asked, balancing her tray on one hand and resetting the blue call bell above the seat with her finger. It had been too much to hope for… she had been naïve to think she could get all the way from the front of the plane to the back without getting stopped. She had put her virtual blinkers on and kept her head down… but some people were never going to let you get past them, and this one had put her arm so far out into the aisle she literally could not get past. The lady looked up and smiled widely, she looked vaguely familiar to Amy, but she didn’t know why.
‘Could I get a double vodka on the rocks please,’ she asked politely.
‘Certainly,’ said Amy with a fake smile, shooting a look down at her arm in the aisle. She moved it, it had done its job.
‘Thanks so much,’ she said as she walked away.
Amy put the tray down on the long bar that stretched between the two doors behind the business class cabin and pulled the Grey Goose from the shelf, just as the business class purser, Vas, appeared.
‘Any chance you could give this to 7H for me?’ she asked. ‘I’m trying to get this cheese down to the crew at the back.’ She looked at the linen covered tray, the reward for her colleagues in economy for surviving a brutal meal service with one less crew member than they should have had.
‘Ahhh,’ the purser picked up the glass and eyed the generous measure. ‘That’ll be her fifth double vodka,’ he said, ‘and last for a while.’ He pursed his lips as he poured half of it back into the bottle. ‘We’ve been trying to slow her down.’
‘Oh jeez, I’m so sorry,’ Amy apologised. In all fairness she had tried to ignore her.
‘It’s ok, I forgot to tell you,’ he smiled. Amy had been working in the galley so hadn’t made it out into the cabin much until now. ‘Can you let the crew down the back know to look out for her though. I wouldn’t put it past her to go down there on the sly once I tell her she can’t have any more…’
Amy laughed. ‘Roger that,’ she said, tipping her head and picking her tray back up. She’d never understood why anyone needed to get drunk on a plane, but in her two short years at the airline she had witnessed it on so many occasions that it didn’t surprise her anymore…
**********
‘I’m sorry, Madam, but I’m afraid I can’t serve you any more alcohol for a while.’ Amy was using her most non-judgemental voice, trying not to upset the lady while kicking herself for answering the call bell when the others had just ignored it. She was quite certain that Vas had already told her she couldn’t have anymore, but here she was blatantly asking anyway… ‘It’s just that we have to monitor the amount…’
‘Excuuuse me?’ The lady’s eyebrows raised almost to the top of her forehead as she drew in a deep breath, making herself taller in her seat. She brushed her long fringe either side of her face with her fingers. Amy had been about to explain that it was in no way a judgement of her behaviour, but they weren’t allowed to let passengers get drunk, and that the purser had asked them all not to serve her any more for a while. But she didn’t let her finish, and from the way her eyes were burning molten holes right through her face right now, it was glaringly obvious that in her best efforts not to cause offence, Amy had failed in a big way ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ she asked through gritted teeth, pointing her finger and circling it at Amy, before she seemed to suddenly lose all self-control. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ she roared.
Amy held her breath for a moment. She felt her pulse quicken, and she could sense the passengers around watching her, waiting to judge her on what she said next. In all of her 23 years she had always hated confrontation; she’d run away from it in the playground, done anything to avoid it at home, and the last place she wanted to deal with it was on board… She blinked hard and said the only thing that she could think of. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she squeaked, then turned and hot footed it back to the safety of the front galley. The manager, Pippa, and Vas were stood side by side waiting for her, having obviously heard the shout.
‘What was that?’ Pippa asked, frowning. Amy went to explain, but then she saw both of their faces drop as they looked up at something behind her. Amy didn’t need to turn around, the way the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck right now were telling her that confrontation had just followed her, and, whether she liked it or not, there was nowhere to run.
‘I demand to speak to a manager.’ The hot air of her breath on Amy’s neck was followed by a sharp poke in her shoulder. Amy felt her legs go to jelly.
‘Do not touch my crew!’ Pippa scolded, taking a step forward. She reached out and put her arm on Amy’s shoulder, guiding her protectively behind her and Vas.
‘I will take my seat when you get me my drink.’ The lady tipped her chin up in defence and put her fists on her hips. She was tall, and lean, and cut an imposing figure as she leaned over her. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ she demanded, again.
‘No madam, I don’t,’ Pippa said slowly with a shake of her head, her hands on her hips now too. She stood her ground, even when she took another step towards her. ‘But I do know that you have had too much to drink…’
With that, chaos ensued…. She launched forward, pushing Pippa backwards against the aircraft door and sending Amy flying into the aisle. Pippa righted herself and then Amy watched in horror as the lady slapped her full force across the face. Pippa opened her mouth in shock and threw her hands up to protect her face from further attack. ‘Don’t you know who I fucking am?’ she screamed, spit coming out of her mouth as she shoved her once more. ‘How dare you! I earn more in a week than you earn in a fucking (bleep out swearing if we can’t have it lol ?!) year…’
With that Vas threw himself forward, grabbing her with both of his hands. He pulled her off of Pippa, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled violently against him. ‘Madam, calm down,’ he ordered.
‘Let fucking go of me,’ she squealed, shaking her head left and right. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’
‘I’ll get permission from the Captain to use the restraint kit,’ Pippa said breathlessly, doing up her shirt which had come undone in the scuffle as she wrenched the phone from the holder.
‘You,’ she nodded at Amy, ‘get the kit from R2 and bring it here.’ Amy nodded and sprinted as fast as she could to the next door. ‘And some more crew. Quickly!’ she heard Pippa shout after her above the screams of the passenger.
**********
Amy’s hands shook as she pulled the restraint kit out of the stowage and ripped it open. She took out the handcuffs and belts and was just about to take them to the front when the lady burst out of the galley and started running down the aisle towards her, closely followed by Vas. As he tried to grab her she leapt over the middle seats, oblivious to the passengers who were still finishing off their dinner, sending plates and glasses flying. Like a gazelle she bounded back and forth across seats, always just out of his reach… until she came flying around the corner of the bar to where Amy was now stood with three other crew.
‘Stop her,’ yelled Vas from behind.
‘Restrain her,’ yelled Pippa, who had just arrived. It wasn’t the command they had practiced in training, and they hadn’t had the briefing that they should have had beforehand… but sometimes things just didn’t go according to plan. And so now, here stood Amy holding all of the equipment…and suddenly she found a bravery she didn’t know that she had…
Thinking quickly she tossed to handcuffs to Valerie. ‘You and me on arms,’ she said to Vas who gave her a sharp nod of understanding. In the next second, as the lady tried to push past they grabbed an arm each, flexed up her elbows and pushed down on the back of her hands, fixing her from both sides with their hips.
‘Ow,’ she yelled now, trying to wriggle free from their grip, but with each jerk they pushed her wrist further, until all of a sudden, she stopped. ‘Cuffs,’ called Amy. Valerie slipped in behind them now and Amy moved her wrist down in front of her. Click, click, they were on.
‘Now madam,’ Amy said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, ‘how about taking your seat?’
‘Don’t you know who I am?’ came the same reply as earlier… only it was much quieter now, almost childlike.
**********
‘Winnipeg?’ Amy curled her lip.
‘Yep,’ Vas gave her a nod.
‘It’s cold there, right?’ Amy asked.
‘Yep,’ he rolled his eyes. Amy knew they were both thinking the same thing, that they were diverting to somewhere not a single member of crew had suitable clothing for. Winter in California was very, very different to winter in Winnipeg.
‘But she’s just drunk. Do we really need to divert? I’m sure she’ll wake up soon…’ Amy and Vas looked out of the galley and down to where the lady was slumped in her seat. Her hands were cuffed, one on top of the other in front of her and a long belt was positioned in the crook of her elbows and around the seat back. It had been a surprise to them all when she had suddenly gone quiet and passed out, but Amy couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t quite the medical emergency the ground had deemed it, thus ordering the diversion, and more a case of her having exhausted herself and falling asleep. But diverting they were, and until they landed they were all to take a turn at babysitting her.
Vas shrugged. ‘Let’s just hope they get her off quickly and we can just carry on.’
‘What a day,’ sighed Amy. She looked at her watch and groaned. ‘My turn. What on earth am I going to say to her if she wakes up?’
‘She’ll still be drunk,’ Vas grinned. ‘You could tell her anything…’ he said, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle all the way to the seat.
Sitting down in the seat next to her Amy studied her for a moment. Her strawberry blonde hair fell over her face, but she could see that she was someone who took care of herself. Her fingernails were manicured, her tanned skin was moisturised. The clothes she wore looked expensive, and the perfume she could smell no doubt cost a fortune. And yet, despite her money, something had gone very very wrong for her today.
Amy sat back and ran over what had happened. She would have to fill in a witness statement soon and be sure to get her facts right. Had she followed procedures well enough? Had she locked the handcuffs so they didn’t get too tight? That was the problem, there were so many procedures in the huge manual, from medicals to hijacking, that you couldn’t possibly remember them all word for word, and there just hadn’t been time to read up on anything today.
‘Oh.’ The voice snapped her back to reality and she turned to see the lady was sat upright now with the most confused expression on her face. ‘What, what,’ she stuttered, jerking forward against the strap. She threw her head round and looked at Amy through the fringe that was covering her face. Amy leaned backwards away from her. ‘What, what’s going on?’ she asked. ‘Why am I tied to my seat?!’
For a moment Amy felt sorry for her, it was obvious that she had no recollection of what had happened. Opening her mouth to speak, the words Vas had whispered just ‘came out’. ‘Oh, well you see, we’ve been hijacked madam,’ she began, stifling a laugh, ‘nothing to worry about, it’s just that we aren’t sure who the hijackers accomplices are so we have tied everyone to their seats.’ As she tried hard to keep a straight face, she hoped that Vas was right about her not remembering anything later.
‘Oh,’ she said, squishing her eyebrows together and seeming to think about it for a moment. ‘Well, um, could I possibly get a double vodka?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid we can’t serve alcohol in a hijack situation, madam,’ said Amy.
‘Oh,’ she sighed, and closed her eyes again.
**********
She woke again as the wheels touched down in Winnipeg.
‘Are we here?’ she asked Amy, who was still sat next to her.
‘Yes, madam,’ she answered, unstrapping her own belt and getting up. She felt a blast of cold air as the door just opposite them opened and watched as two armed police officers and a paramedic stepped on board. They stopped to speak to Pippa for a moment before walking towards her. She moved back and used her hand to signal to them where the lady was seated. As she retrieved her designer luggage from the overhead stowage for her, she watched out the corner of her eye as the paramedic quickly did some checks and then as the police officer knelt down and explained to her the trouble that she was in. Amy couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but she could hear the lady as she was lifted up from her seat:
‘But, but, don’t you know who I am?’ she cried. She could be heard repeating it all the way to the door and along the cold jetway. ‘Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know who I am?’
Pippa pulled the door closed and shivered. ‘Right, let’s get to the sunshine,’ she said.
‘Who was she anyway?’ Amy asked.
‘Absolutely no idea,’ laughed Pippa.
**********
The Facebook post in one of her work groups caught Amy’s attention.
Whose flight was this last year? Asked the person who posted it.
Amy recognised the face in the picture and knew immediately that it was the flight she had done with the onboard restraint. She had heard that it had gone to court, but only Pippa and Vas had needed to attend, and so she had forgotten all about it until now. She clicked on the news article.
Actress given conditional release on charges arising out of air rage incident in 2002, when she hit and swore at a flight attendant. She was then handcuffed as the flight was diverted to Winnipeg where she spent a night in detention.
The defendant’s lawyer says she had been so traumatised by the September 11th attacks that she had developed a fear of flying and had consumed alcohol and tranquilisers before boarding. She was ordered to abstain from alcohol and non-medical drugs for a month and to reimburse the airline for the trouble she caused.
Amy was wide eyed as she read the list of movies she had appeared in, and even more so when she saw the name of her uber-famous ex-husband… Now she finally knew who she was!!
As with all of our stories at The Red Eye, they are based on true life events, but some of the details may not be exact. So, to protect the donator of this story, and indeed the other people involved in this incident, unfortunately we can’t share the actresses name in this podcast… although something tells me she might like you to know who she is!
‘Don’t you know who I am?’
Hit By a Truck
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Season 1 Episode 22 of The Red Eye Podcast
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Today I’m excited to take you on a journey to a whole destination for The Red Eye. If you were crew in the late 90’s you may have guessed where we are going from the title, but for the rest of you let me give you a brief introduction to… Narita! A city some 70 kilometres from Tokyo, the vast majority of people that come here will visit only for its airport, either heading off into Tokyo or connecting somewhere else with the national airline which is based there. If you were to stop over though, you will find it is awash with airline crews from all over the world, flying into town aboard the scores of passenger and cargo jets that arrive there daily. Crew who are mostly on a different time zone and who will gravitate to the late-night bars that cater for them and drink the rocket fuelled drinks. For those of us who flew there in the late nineties and early noughties it was a place synonymous with karaoke bars and skull-crushing hangovers. It is a place like no other, and the subject of many a hysterical trip down memory lane… unless you are todays donor that is… she still struggles to laugh about what happened to her…
The Tokyu Hotel, Narita, 1999
The clinical hotel room made Julie shudder as the door closed behind her. Perhaps it was because the last time she was here she’d had the worst hangover of her entire life and spent a whole day crying in her bed, feeling like she was a patient in a private hospital room without flowers or visitors. She walked over to the window and looked out over the uninspiring scenery, morning had not long broken over the smattering of hotels and green areas, and not much was moving yet on the streets below. She put the cigarette that was already in her hand to her lips and lit it up, drawing the warm smoke into her lungs and feeling the nicotine start to relax her. It had been a long flight over from London, she deserved this, she told herself, as she pushed the window open a crack and blew the smoke out of it. It wasn’t forbidden to smoke in your room here, but even so, she preferred not to smell like an ashtray before she had even gone out. When she finished and there was nothing more left than the warm, white butt, she stubbed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table and looked around at what would be her home for the next forty-eight hours. A small single bed with sheets and a thin blanket, an open wardrobe in which the cotton kimono with clouds printed on it was hanging above the plastic slippers, and the desk on which stood the tv and video player… it was functional, but that was all.
This trip, Julie was determined that she would not suffer like she had done last time. Nooooo, she would never let herself get in that state again… not that it had all been down to the alcohol, she had been quite sure that the teriyaki burger from the vending machine in the crew room, the one that had still been frozen in the middle, had played some role in her gastro-intestinal issues. So, this trip, while she may have agreed to go out for a couple, or maybe a couple of couples of drinks this evening, she was determined to get the early bus home, and no amount of bad influence or cajoling was going to stop her! She would not be drinking Lemon Highs and she certainly wouldn’t be eating from the vending machine. Julie Margot, with her home dining in her Delsey suitcase, or Delsey Dining as it was called by the crew, would be waking up in her hotel-cum-hospital bed fresh as a daisy tomorrow morning, ready to hit the gym and go into town to see the temples… and on the second night she would be signing out some video tapes in the crew room to watch and be ready for check out bright eyed and bushy tailed the next morning! Her flight home wouldn’t involve her throwing up into a passenger’s sick bag whilst giving out dinner, or having to take a bottle of oxygen to crew rest like it had last time, and she may even be able to remember some of it...
Full of resolve she ignored the annoying doubt in the back of her mind, the voice that told her she was too easily led astray, as she took herself to the bathroom. She closed the lid on the complicated toilet with its warm seat and buttons that shot water in all manner of directions, including in your eye if you tried to work them out whilst leaning over it. Thankfully, that was one thing that she had got to grips with whilst she had vomited into it on numerous occasions, although a warm toilet seat would never seem right to her; to her it always felt like someone had just got off it. She climbed on top of the seat and reached up to the low ceiling, pushing the tile with the most fingerprints on it up and sliding it backwards. You never knew what you would find up here, things handed over from one of the numerous crews that stayed in the hotel, and she reached inside hopefully, patting around the edges until she felt something...
‘Bingo,’ she exclaimed, pulling out a small miniature of gin, and behind it a tiny can of tonic, silently thanking the crew member who had left it. It was as if they had known that this room would be assigned to Julie Margot next. Putting them in the sink, she reached in once more, further back this time, pulling out one thing after another from her very own Alladin’s cave. When she was certain there was nothing left, she jumped down and regarded her treasures with amusement… in total, as well as her gin and tonic, she had found four Japanese beers, a porn magazine with dog-eared corners and crispy pages, a packet of condoms with one missing and a VHS tape with the title ‘Debbie Does Dallas.’ Apart from the G&T she had no need for any of it, and so back in they all went to be found by the next person to stay in room 324. Pulling the tile back into place she got down and washed her hands, the thought of the magazine sending an involuntary shiver down her back. It was so stereotypical, she thought, laughing to herself as she poured her drink and lit another cigarette, but she guessed men had their needs and all that male nonsense...
**********
That evening the crew took the hotel bus into Narita town. A quick bite to eat and they headed to Flyer’s bar, where airline paraphernalia covered every inch of the walls, except that was for the wall that was full of boob photos. So far Julie had not been persuaded to have hers taken, despite the offer by the owner of free drinks for life...
‘Here,’ said her captain, handing her a local beer from the round he had just bought for everyone.
‘Oh, thanks,’ she said, taking it from him. She hoped that her false gratitude at least seemed genuine while her inner voice was wailing. So far, she had been happy to pay a little extra for the imported brands, knowing that as good as the local beer tasted she would pay for it in the morning. The rumour was that it contained arsenic, and whilst no one had ever found proof of it, the fact was that its consumption was closely linked to the level of headache you could expect the next day. Ah well, she thought, seeing that everyone else was happily throwing theirs back, I’m sure one won’t hurt.
At ten o’clock the now rather merry group moved onto The Barge Inn, and then suddenly time seemed to speed up. As the clock struck eleven, Julie found herself hit with making a decision that she had been so sure about earlier.
‘So, who’s coming to The Truck?’ asked one of the pilots.
Julie gritted her teeth as the devil on her shoulder taunted her. Her mind and body were so awake, it was early at home after all, and she was sure she felt quite sober. Just down the lane were two buses. One would take her back to the hotel, the other would take her to the den of iniquity that was The Truck. ‘I’m in,’ she said, adding for her own ears: ‘But I’m getting the early bus home…’
‘Of course you are,’ someone laughed.
‘We’re ready,’ the pilot called over to the bar where the Japanese man who was apparently going to drive the bus was finishing his beer. He held up his hand to show he had heard, tipped his head back as he poured the rest of his beer down his throat and slammed the empty bottle on the bar next to two others. ‘Let’s go,’ he said with a clap of his hands, cheerfully leading them out.
In less than an hour Julie had said goodbye to all of her resolve. The Truck, so named because the whole of the bar sat inside of a shipping container, was packed as usual with crew from all over, each stood in their groups, taking turns to represent their airlines on the karaoke stage. Without any announcements, and with what seemed to be a random selection of hits played back-to-back, it was a free for all. By now Julie had accepted that tomorrow would be a bad day, and as such had decided, with questionable reasoning, that she may as well make the most of the night. So, here she was, stood with her crew, a Lemon High in her hand, singing along to the German girls on the karaoke as they sang spectacularly off key to Belinda Carlisle. She had no doubt that at some point in the not-too-distant future, her alter ego, the one who came out when she was drunk enough to not care what anyone thought, would be persuaded to get up there too and show them how it was done…
‘Jesus,’ said the captain as he appeared in the midst of them with a look of horror on his face. At first Julie thought he was talking about the singing, but then he ducked down, hiding from someone, or something behind them. ‘Save me,’ he cried theatrically.
Julie looked down at the crouching coward beneath her and laughed. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
He stood up, glancing over their shoulders before quickly turning around. ‘Those two old American crew want a piece of me.’ They all turned around to see who he was talking about, spotting the two ladies he was referring to at the back of the room, deep in what looked like a heated conversation. They were glamorous enough, Julie thought, but easily in their late fifties, and the captain was young in captain’s terms, perhaps early forties, maybe even late thirties, it was hard to tell. Whatever the number, he was far younger than they were.
‘The blonde one just asked if she could come back to my room, and the other one called her a back-stabbing bitch, so I made my excuses and legged it,’ he said raising one eyebrow and sipping his drink. ‘I’m not being mean, but she looks like a double of my mum,’ he shuddered.
They all watched in amusement as another prey walked past them and was drawn in. ‘I think you’re safe mate, that guy they are talking to now is cargo,’ said the first officer. ‘I was chatting to him earlier and he’s been in and out of here for two weeks. Two weeks in Narita is enough to send anyone’s moral compass off course,’ he laughed, and he seemed to be right, the man in the rugby shirt seemed to be lapping up their attention.
Standing on the edge of the group Julie was suddenly aware of someone stood so close to her that she could feel their breath on her neck, and smell the alcohol on it. She turned to see a man in a pink shirt, with pock marked skin and a swollen red nose leering down at her. She stepped back, smiling awkwardly back up at him. ‘Can I help you?’
‘You are the most beautiful girl in here,’ he slurred. ‘Can I please buy you a drink?’
‘Oh, for goodness sake, do one mate,’ said the captain who appeared beside her, putting a protective arm around her and pulling her back into their group. ‘That guy gives us pilots a bad name. He’s been pestering every girl in here,’ he said, loud enough for him to hear. It seemed to wash over him though, and he merely turned his unwanted attentions to the unsuspecting girl behind him.
‘Shall we get him?’ the first officer asked with a wink.
The captain grinned. ‘I reckon we should,’ he said with a chuckle. Julie had no idea what they meant, and never had a chance to ask as she was hauled away to the stage for karaoke. Nor did she know that their plan would be misjudged and that it would end up being her who got ‘got’…
************
The one thirty bus had long gone and the three o’clock one would be along soon, and so, after putting it off for as long as she could, Julie staggered outside of the bar and to the toilets. A row of stalls lined up underneath a corrugated roof, but their doors were only chest high and only therefore suitable for the most shameless females, and so she waited patiently outside of the one Portaloo. As she made it to the front of the queue the door opened and out staggered the pilot from earlier, the one with the pink shirt. His eyes were straight on her, and she rushed past him before he had a chance to say anything, pulling the door shut and locking it. She groaned when she saw there was no toilet roll, but she really needed to go and so she pulled her skirt up, pants down, and hovered above the seat.
The lemon Highs had taken effect now and her head was spinning. As the walls started to move, she gave up trying to hover and sat down, putting her arms out either side of her, pressing against the walls to steady herself. It didn’t seem to help though, and the small cubicle went from spinning to rocking back and forth. Then the back and forth got further each way and just as she realised what was happening the Portaloo in which she was now trapped tipped over backwards. Thrown against the wall she felt it slipping down the hill behind where it had been stood, and as she landed in a distorted heap in the ceiling, she threw her hands over her face, gagging as the contents of the toilet emptied all over her bare limbs. When it stopped moving and when the liquid stopped pouring, Julie lay frozen as she contemplated what had just happened.
Julie Margot had just been toppled down a hill in a Portaloo.
Julie Margot was upside down in a Portaloo.
Julie Margot was covered in Portaloo liquid, upside down in a Portaloo…
Suddenly sober, inside of her own body she screamed, but nothing came out except a muffled cry. She wanted to shout for help. She knew that if she wanted to get out that she should start pummelling the door or something to get their attention, but as she curled up in the ceiling she stayed silent… overwhelmed by the idea of anyone seeing or smelling her like this. The thought of it was so far beyond humiliating that she would rather just stay in here forever.
In the fall the light had gone out, and she was pleased that she could not see the substance that was now clinging to her skin as it dried. She reached down and pulled her underwear clumsily up, listening to the sounds of laughter and talking getting more and more distant, and then the sound of a vehicle’s engine starting up as her bus home drove away. Eventually, when she felt safe from being found she uncurled herself and went about finding the way out. Finding the handle she pushed the door up and over, its weight heavy now that it was above her. She took a moment to appreciate the stars in the night sky above her, and the fresh air that filled her nostrils before heaving herself up and clambering ungracefully out and over the door. On the hard plastic she felt water seeping under her knees, and even when she had crawled into the rather spikey grass, the ground below seemed to be sodden.
‘Quit treading on my barley mate or I’ll lop your flipping lolly off,’ came an Australian voice out of the darkness.
Julie’s heart skipped a beat and she quickly pulled her skirt, which had become hitched around her waist in her efforts to get out, down to cover her underwear. With just the moonlight to see by she could just make out a figure sat a few feet away on the grass. She stood up and looked down at what she was standing on, realising now that he had mentioned it, that whilst it wasn’t barley, it was rice. She had landed in a rice field. She stank, and… she realised as the adrenalin left her, she was still so drunk that she wasn’t even sure if she cared right now.
‘It’s not barley, it’s rice,’ she muttered, sitting back down, and then laying, shutting her eyes, just for a minute…
**********
When dawn broke the next morning the melody of the birds were at first just a part of her dream. The sun was warm already and she was smiling, somewhere happy that she didn’t really know. It was the Australian voice that interrupted her, the finger prodding her arm that broke her out of that place where she was normal and not soaking wet with a sinking feeling in her stomach that was as deep as the ocean.
Reluctantly she opened one eye, a stabbing pain immediately searing across her head, making her shut it again.
‘Are you okay love?’
‘Mmmm,’ she mumbled, clutching her head in both hands as she sat slowly up. She opened both eyes now, focussing on the face of the middle-aged man in front of her. He was a pilot, she could just tell.
‘What happened?’ she asked, not wanting to look behind her.
‘I tried to stop ‘em,’ he said with a slow shake of his head. ‘But I think they thought you were that dick with the pink shirt.’
‘Oh.’ Julie frowned as she thought back to the night before, looking up at the innocent container that looked so different in the cold light of day. She could remember the pilot he was speaking of, he had been annoying everyone. So that was why they had done it, they had thought it was him that they were toppling over in the Portaloo, and she was betting that it was her pilots who had done it too… But it hadn’t been him that was in there, it had been her, she cried inwardly, looking down at the bluey green liquid that had dried on her legs and arms.
‘I stink,’ she said.
‘Yep, you certainly do.’
Julie shot him a sideways look, unsure if she should be offended or not. Was he laughing at her? Why were his shoulders shaking like that?
‘You’re not looking so great yourself,’ she retorted, looking him up and down. His beige trousers and checked shirt were soaked through from where he too had slept in the wet field, his dark hair stuck down on one side and up on the other.
‘Nope, I’m really not,’ he said, the laughter coming out now, a snigger that slowly built up to a belly laugh that made Julie laugh too, until they were both in hysterics.
‘They can probably smell me in Tokyo,’ Julie cried.
‘Oh, much further than that,’ he laughed, prompting Julie to punch him playfully in the arm with her blue-stained fist.
‘Phil, by the way,’ he said when they had managed to calm down somewhat.
Julie looked down at his wet beige chinos and grinned. ‘Pilot?’ she asked.
He frowned. ‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘Oh, I could just tell,’ she said. Chinos, boat shoes, checked shirts… they were like a second uniform for pilots, their ‘land’ outfits so to speak. She held out her hand. ‘Julie, pleased to meet you.’ They both looked at the blue stain that ran the whole length of her arm and onto the back of her hand, and she pulled it back, settling for a grateful smile instead. ‘Did you miss the bus home too?’ she asked.
Phil shook his head. ‘I couldn’t leave you on your own like that so thought I’d wait and make sure you were ok.’
‘Really?’ Julie asked, taken aback by what he was telling her. He shrugged, and she knew that he was telling the truth. This kind man, who didn’t even know her, had slept in a saturated rice field next to a stinking Portaloo to make sure she was ok. ‘Wow,’ she said, struggling to find the words she needed. ‘Thank you,’ she said eventually, too hungover to think of anything better.
‘Anytime,’ he smiled. ‘I’ve had a blast, but we should probably try and get home at some point though…’
Julie looked down at herself and sighed. ‘I need a cigarette before I go anywhere,’ she said, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a blue-soaked Marlboro packet. She opened it, confirming that the contents were blue too, along with a handful of Yen. ‘Shit,’ she said and tossed the packet behind her. Despite the fact that the yen were probably worth a few dinners at home, she was not up for the job of trying to make them usable, and as for the cigarettes…
‘Mine are a bit wet, but they might be salvageable,’ said Phil, who was holding his own damp packet.
Julie reached out and took them from him. ‘Wet is fine,’ she said, pulling one out and inspecting it, ‘blue is not. Here, you hold, I’ll dry.’ She flicked her lighter a few times to ignite the damp flint and gently dried two cigarettes, one for each of them, with the flame.
***********
Their cigarettes finished, Phil pushed himself up from the ground. ‘I reckon they’ll take us back,’ he said, tipping his head in the direction of the hotel across the carpark opposite them. At some point in their conversation, they had discovered that he was staying in the same hotel as Julie. He offered a hand down to her. She took it and let herself be pulled up.
In the back of the minibus they were silent as the kind driver drove them back to The Tokyu. She was sure when she caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror that his eyes were watering with the smell, but she had opened the window and there was little else that she could do. She wondered if he would have been so accommodating and driven them if Phil hadn’t gone in alone to ask. When they reached the hotel, she thanked him politely and looked down at the floor as she did the most shameful walk of shame she had ever done across the hotel lobby, grateful to Phil for staying at her side.
‘Thank you so much for everything,’ she said once they were alone in the lift. ‘I would give you a hug but…’
‘You’re good,’ he laughed, stepping back. ‘See you in town tonight?’ he asked as the lift opened on her floor.
She shook her head ‘no.’ There were some things that could be forgotten fairly quickly, like vomiting, or extreme hangovers, but it was going to be a while before she could face The Truck again, or before she could even use a Portaloo for that matter. ‘I am going to have the longest shower and then I shall be staying in and having a quiet night,’ she said as she stepped out… and this time there was no doubting voice in the back of her head questioning if she might be persuaded. This time, she thought as she darted to her room before anyone saw her, she would definitely not be going out, and there was absolutely no doubt about it…
JUST IN TIME
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‘Excuse me.’ Eve stopped at the sound of the man’s voice, raising her torch slightly so as to see who had called. ‘Can I get some water please?’ He was sat in the window seat, wedged in by two sleeping men.
‘Of course.’ She looked up to check the row number, 34, and continued on her way up the dark cabin. With just the occasional glow from a tv screen casting shadows over the sleeping passengers it was a slow journey; arms and legs spilt into the aisle as people tried to get comfortable and her skirt strained as she lifted her legs over one obstacle after another.
The front galley was dimly lit, Sarah sat one side in her jump seat flicking through a magazine, Joe on the other, his head nodding as he fought sleep. ‘Wakey wakey,’ she said softly as she poured a glass of water.
‘Babe, I’m dying,’ he said with a smile, his eyes red and heavy.
‘You’ll be fine once the sun comes up,’ Eve said, it always made her feel better, that and not sitting down on these night flights. Sitting down was ALWAYS a bad idea, guaranteed to make her feel worse.
She walked back, dodging the feet once again, and handed the glass of water to the grateful man in 34A.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said. Stopping on the way back up the aisle Eve opened the toilet doors, giving them each a spray and a tidy up so that they would be nice for their next visitors. Passing the galley at the two doors she cleared some rubbish that had been left on the side and looked at her watch. Another hour and she would be able to start getting ready for breakfast, just sixty more minutes to keep herself busy and awake.
‘Are the boys napping?’ she asked as she walked back past the curtain and into the front galley. Sitting down in the flight deck and chatting was ok, that was different, but sometimes on these short flights they took it in turns to nap while the other stayed awake, calling out frequently to let the crew know they were ok.
‘Yes, they should be calling soon,’ Sarah looked up from her magazine and then at her watch. ‘Actually, they should have called fifteen minutes ago. Did I miss it?’ she looked across at Joe.
Joe shook his head, his eyebrows raised.
Eve could picture it, both of them asleep as they continued their journey on autopilot. ‘Better ring them, wake them up.’ She reached over Sarah’s shoulder for the phone and dialed their number. No answer. She hung up the handset and walked around the corner to the door, putting in the access code, waiting for what seemed like an age for the light to go green. It didn’t.
‘Something’s not right,’ she whispered. Both Sarah and Joe were up now, suddenly alert.
Adrenalin made Eve’s fingers shake as she tapped in the emergency access code, and they all stood silently, the thirty seconds seeming to take an eternity before the green light signaled the door was unlocked.
Eve led them inside the flight deck, taking two steps forward and laying a hand on each of the pilot’s shoulders. She shook them, lightly at first and then much, much harder.
‘Wh…’ Paul, the first officer stirred from his deep sleep, blinking rapidly as he tried to reconcile what was going on. Eve turned to the captain, still shaking him. She looked up to his face, it seemed contorted, all colour drained. His eyes were half open but to Eve it was quite clear that he wasn’t awake… he was dead.
‘Babe.’ Eve jumped as someone shook her shoulder, her heart beating hard against her chest. ‘Time to get up.’ She looked around her and exhaled. It had just been a dream, a bad one. Well, she thought as she got up from the jumpseat, rolling up the thin blanket she had used and pulling back the curtain, one positive was that she had finally managed to sleep on a jumpseat… something that had evaded her for years, and made flying on these aircraft that were missing a crew rest area a thing of dread. Perhaps if she could sleep in a jump seat without the terrifying dream next time then that would be even better. What was the dream, anyway? Her tired mind had already forgotten.
In the back galley two tired crew greeted her. ‘Coffee’s in the pot babe, goodnight,’ said John, heading off to replace her in the jump seat.
Ten minutes and two coffees and she finally felt human enough to do anything. ‘I’m just going to walk around Hun, check the cabin,’ she said to Rachel. Rachel nodded, still nursing her own coffee, leaning against the galley side. Eve turned on her torch and walked slowly up the aisle, casting her eye over the passengers, who were all asleep or at least trying to sleep, their eyes closed.
‘Excuse me.’ A man’s voice called out to her. ‘Can I get some water please?’
‘Of course.’ Eve smiled, feeling sorry for him stuck in the window, blocked in by two sleeping bodies. She looked up to check the row number, 34. Continuing her way up the cabin she weaved in and out of the feet in the aisle, her tight skirt straining against her thighs as she lifted her legs over one obstacle after another.
In the dimly lit front galley Sarah sat in her jump seat flicking through a magazine, Joe on the opposite side, his head nodding as he fought sleep. ‘Wakey wakey,’ she said softly as she poured a glass of water.
‘Babe, I’m dying,’ he said with a smile, his eyes red.
‘You’ll be fine once the sun comes up…’ Eve felt her heart jump, something was telling her she had been here, said that before. The sense of DeJa’Vu was overwhelming, almost suffocating her as the dream catapulted back to the front of her mind. She was scared to ask the question… ‘Are the boys napping?’ She said it so quietly but they both looked at her.
‘Yes,’ said Sarah, looking at her watch. ‘They should have called a couple of minutes ago, I’ll give them a couple more…’
Eve shot her hand across Sarah and grabbed the phone, dialling the flight deck code with trembling fingers. No answer. She ran the three steps to the door and put in the access code. No answer. ‘Something is wrong,’ she said, punching the emergency code in. Sarah and Joe were up and behind her as she pushed the door open, reaching straight out for the captain. He looked back at her with terrified eyes, hands clutched to his chest.
‘Joe, help me get him out of his seat. Sarah get the Defib and PA for a doctor.’
‘What the…’ the first officer spluttered.
**********
‘Thank you,’ the captain reached out his hand to Eve as the paramedics transferred him onto a stretcher and wheeled him onto the Hi-Lift truck at the door.
‘Just you get better soon,’ Eve said, holding it briefly in both of hers. She was fighting back the tears that were finally threatening, pinching the backs of her eyes. It had all been such a blur, the CPR, the defibrillator, the doctor and all the medication… but whatever they had done, the drills they had followed had brought him back from the edge.
‘I dread to think what would have happened if we hadn’t gone in when we did,’ said Joe. His face was grave.
Eve nodded, but she alone knew exactly what would have happened. She had seen it.
The End
LEFT BEHIND
Jane never ceased to be amazed by how much mess a bunch of respectable-looking passengers could make in just a few hours. She cast her eyes from left to right as she walked up the left-hand side of the now empty plane, checking for anything besides rubbish that had been left behind. The navy purse was just led there, blending in with the navy seat; had it not been for its small gold clasp that caught the glimmer of sunlight from the opposite window, she never would have seen it.
Holding it up she turned it over in her hand. It was heavy, fairly new by the looks of it, smooth leather that hadn’t aged or worn out yet with use. She held onto it while she checked the last couple of rows and walked back into the galley.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Sam said from the opposite door. He was poised ready with his wheelie bag, jacket on and one foot already in front of the other.
‘You go on, I’ll catch you up.’ Jane put the purse down on top of her open bag, she would hand it to security on the way off but she needed to change her shoes quickly, preferring to walk through the airport looking marginally glamorous after a flight, not slipping along in her battered, flat cabin shoes, no matter how much more comfortable they were. The moments in her life when she felt even the slightest bit glam were so seldom these days that she couldn’t let a single opportunity pass her by.
Jane looked at her tired face in the hotel bathroom mirror the next morning, even a good night’s sleep didn’t make her look fresh faced any more. Middle age had hit her hard. Reaching forty-eight just last week with two children who no longer needed her, an ex-husband who had traded her in for a younger model, a body that had gone soft, for want of a better way to describe the way in which it had seemed to have lost all tone almost overnight, and a non-existent social life was not how she had imagined this stage would be as she careered at supersonic speed head-on towards the big five-oh. She let out a sigh and walked back through the door into the bedroom, a thick layer of make up was definitely necessary before she left this room, even if she was sure that she wouldn’t see a soul that she knew while she lost herself in the Manhattan shopping mecca.
She unzipped her wheelie bag on the bed and rooted around inside for her make up. The soft leather of the purse confused her at first, and her stomach flipped when she realised what it was. She had literally just stolen someone’s purse, she was a real-life thief, albeit an accidental one, but whether she had meant to do it or not, here she was holding something that quite clearly belonged to somebody else.
Jane looked at the metal wastepaper bin underneath the mahogany desk. Should she just throw it out, leave it for the cleaners to deal with? Would they presume it was hers and try to return it to the wrong person? Should she take it back to the airport and hand it in tomorrow, hope that the Duty Manager believed that she had accidentally stolen it? She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at it blankly. Her thumb slipped under the clasp and popped it open. Julie held her breath as she took a look inside of a stranger’s life. One by one she lifted the cards from the front pockets, loyalty cards and bank cards that would take weeks to replace, she had lost her own purse once before and could remember the pain of having to replace everything acutely. Mrs K Lockley must be tearing her hair out right now no doubt.
It was the last card that answered her question of what to do. The photo was old, but she recognised the eyes, she remembered the twinkle in them when the old lady had asked for a whiskey, straight with just one cube of ice, and Jane had given her two miniatures. It had been too busy to be able to chat so that was all that she knew about her. Here though was an out-of-date driving license which told her that Kathleen M Lockley was seventy-four years old and lived at 3373 134th Street, right here in Manhattan.
So that was what Jane was going to do. She was going to personally deliver the purse back to Mrs Lockley, drop it through her letterbox… and run…
**********
Sean Lockley Jnr shook his head kindly. ‘Mom, it’s not the end of the world, nothing we can’t replace. It’s just a purse.’ He poured her a large Single Malt from the crystal decanter, and another for himself. Truth be known, he didn’t even like the stuff, and he wasn’t sure that his mother did either, but every time he poured one out for them both it was a silent nod to his late father. He handed her the glass.
‘I hate getting old.’ Kathleen stared into her glass. Next week was her seventy-fifth birthday and everyone thought she should be excited about the planned celebrations, but walking into old age alone was scaring the heck out of her. Sean Snr had always had a protective arm around her, always had the right words, but now she was left here, in their expensive apartment with its high ceilings and antique furniture, with her only son a witness to her increasing number of mistakes, and all she could see ahead of her was her own demise, that sooner rather than later it would be her turn to be taken out of here in a box and buried under the cold earth. She shuddered at the thought and took a gulp of the whiskey, she mustn’t keep letting these dark thoughts creep in, she knew better than to wallow in self-pity. She held the empty glass out. ‘Pour me another.’
**********
Jane thanked the cab driver and got out, watching the yellow car drive off and wondering if her decision to walk back was a mistake, the journey here had seemed much further than she had expected. She looked at her watch, it was 11am on this beautiful autumn day and check out wasn’t until five-thirty. It didn’t matter if it took two hours to get back, she would see parts of the city that she had never seen, and maybe burn some calories too… anyway, she just had to do this one thing first.
The brownstone building loomed overhead, and Jane felt her heart race as she took the first step up to the huge wooden door. At the top she stopped, the purse already in her hand, and realised that whatever she had thought she would do now was not going to happen. The door was locked, and there was nowhere that she could just ‘pop the purse and run’… the only options available to her right now seemed to be the brass intercom buttons, or more precisely the one at the top that had the name ‘Lockley’ etched next to it.
Jane turned away, this wasn’t what she had signed up for, she didn’t want to see the lady, or have to explain why she had taken her purse off of the plane… but she couldn’t just leave it on the step, or could she? She looked down at her feet and seriously considered this option, but without a pen and paper to at least write a note she knew that it was a no-go. Drat.
Her finger hovered over the button as she rehearsed in her head the short but concise explanation that she would give. ‘Can I help you?’ A deep voice interrupted her stalling. She turned to see a man about the same age as her with grey flecked hair and an expensive looking suit standing half in and half out of the door. He smiled at her, a perfect set of straight white American teeth, his blue eyes looking directly into hers. He was tall, well over six foot, with broad shoulders and a face that was… kind. Why was she having butterflies in her stomach?
‘Er,’ Jane tried to compose herself, it had been a long time since a man had made her go funny like this, and she really wasn’t sure how to deal with it. On top of that her brain was already busy trying to deal with her purse problem! Suddenly she saw an opportunity. ‘Um, actually maybe you can. I need to deliver this purse to Mrs Lockley in apartment 1, would you mind letting me in so that I can give it to her?’ Or leave it outside her door… and run.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ his smile stretched wider, ‘she was just getting herself all worked up about losing that, how on earth did you….’ He waved his hand instead of finishing the question. ‘Please, come in, you can give it to her yourself, she’s gonna be stoked.’
‘Oh I can just leave it with you. I need to be getting back…’ Jane turned slightly and signaled with her thumb towards the street.
‘No, I insist, you have to come in!’
Jane nodded reluctantly and stepped inside to the lobby, following Mr Handsome into the ground floor apartment. She was distracted at first by the expensive looking art that hung on every wall, clutching the purse to her chest as they walked along the hallway.
‘Mom, you’re not going to believe this.’
Jane immediately recognized the old lady, and the familiarity served to settle her nerves somewhat. She handed her the purse along with her rehearsed explanation of how she came to have it.
‘My dear, that you have come all this way just for this, how sweet you are,’ Kathleen held the purse in both hands and smiled almost lovingly at it, Jane thought. ‘Sean, you must get the girl a drink. Single malt?’
‘No, no,’ Jane laughed. ‘I really can’t, I have to fly this evening so I can’t drink. I won’t take up any more of your time, I really must be going.’
‘Please, do you have time to join us for lunch at least?’ Sean asked. ‘We were just going out. We’d love to thank you?’
‘That’s a lovely offer, but you really don’t need to thank me. I really must be going.’ Jane tried again.
‘Well maybe next time you are in New York we can take you out for dinner?’ Kathleen asked, pushing herself up. Jane couldn’t help but notice how tall and slim she was, her figure better than most girls half her age, flattered by her tailored trousers and cashmere sweater.
‘Perhaps,’ Jane smiled, suddenly inspired to walk fast all the way back in an effort to maintain her own figure like this lady. She turned, determined this time to leave. ‘I can see myself out, it was lovely to see you again Mrs Lockley.’
‘It’s this way,’ Sean called, a slight smirk on his face, as she headed in the wrong direction. Jane felt her cheeks flush as he led her once again down the hall of art. ‘Please, do let me know when you are in town next, I know Mom would very much like to take you out.’ He handed her a small card.
‘I will do,’ Jane stopped at the top step as he held the door open for her. She knew that she would never have the courage to call him, but those butterflies were back as they locked eyes, and she had to admit that seeing him again wasn’t the worst idea in the world, no matter how unlikely it was.
**********
Kathleen had a spring in her step, she was on a mission and it had given her purpose! Sean had spent far too long wallowing after his wife had cheated on him with his business partner and tried to take him for everything when he divorced her. His children had both pursued careers in different cities, and as much as he denied it she knew her son well enough to know that he was lonely. She knew it because she felt the same, but she was old and he wasn’t… he had years left ahead of him, and she would not sit by and watch him be unhappy. She had given him time to heal, but it was time to move on now, and from the second she had seen the way he had looked at that lovely flight attendant she knew that for the right person he was ready… and that she was quite possibly the right person.
‘Which terminal Ma’am?’
‘Three please,’ she checked her watch, by her reckoning the crew would be arriving not long after her. It was a world she knew well, having met her husband when she herself did the job many moons ago. If she was right about this, and she usually was, having a flight attendant daughter-in-law could be a real hoot!
She recognized her straight away as she walked through the doors with the rest of her colleagues, so smart in their uniforms. ‘Jane!’ she called and waved, amused by the look of surprised confusion on her face as she walked over to her.
‘Mrs Lockley, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘Well, since we are now friends I was hoping, and please don’t think I am being cheeky, but I have a real soft spot for a certain brand of tea, and I was wondering if you would be kind enough to bring me some out next time you are here? I can give you the money now,’ she opened up her purse and pulled out an English note. It had been the best thing she had been able to come up with, and for once it suited her to be ancient, she could get away with being a bit crazy, and no one could say no to a sweet old lady.
Jane was too surprised to say anything other than yes. ‘Sure, I’ll be out again next week. Shall I drop it to the apartment?’
‘That would be wonderful, but not to the apartment, I must insist on taking you out as a thank you…’
**********
One week later
The driver opened the door of the smart black BMW. ‘Enjoy your evening Ma’am. The restaurant is on the 92nd floor. Mrs Lockley will meet you up there.’
‘Thank you,’ Jane held out a ten-dollar bill.
‘That’s not necessary,’ he smiled.
Jane waited on the pavement for a moment, psyching herself up to go in. It wasn’t every trip that she got picked up by a driver and treated to a dinner at what she could only assume was an expensive restaurant. She had picked her outfit carefully, and even curled her shoulder-length hair for the first time in months. The only thing that she couldn’t get around was the bag of teabags that she didn’t quite go with the green wrap dress and high heels, even in their Marks and Spencer’s carrier.
Eventually summoning up the courage, she emerged out of the lift and was greeted by a waiter who led her across the restaurant to join… just Sean Lockley. Kathleen was nowhere to be seen.
Sean stood up, looking even more handsome than she remembered him, and her stomach fluttered furiously. ‘My mother is apparently sick and sends her apologies,’ he said with as he leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the cheek. ‘I really hope you don’t mind it being just me.’
‘Oh,’ Jane was glad that she’d had the prosecco in her room as she got ready. ‘Not at all.’
Later, as they sat in the restaurant window overlooking the million lights of Manhattan, the ease with which conversation flowed between them was tangible, all nervousness long gone. They both agreed that they had been royally ‘set up’.
‘No doubt she will be miraculously better by tomorrow,’ Sean shook his head. He had all intentions of telling her that he was fully aware of her underhand tactics when he saw her too, after he thanked her for sending him on what was the most enjoyable evening he’d had in years, with the most perfect person.
Jane laughed. She had fallen for the sweet-little-old-lady guise hook, line and sinker… but she wasn’t complaining as she sat with this gorgeous man who ticked all the right boxes, with all intentions of swapping every flight she had this month for New Yorks so that she could see him again. No, she wasn’t complaining at all…
**********
Kathleen swirled the whiskey in her glass and smiled to herself. It was past midnight and Sean still hadn’t called, just a message saying Thanks. A rare feeling of excitement fizzed through her as she dared to hope that she had been right in her judgement; that Jane wasn’t married, that she had been left behind in life just like her son, that they were perfect for each other. She couldn’t wait to see their relationship blossom, to hear all about Jane’s travels and tell her about hers, maybe she could go on trips with her... Her mind raced. Perhaps this next chapter of her life could be quite fun after all.
The End
STANDBY
​
​London Heathrow Airport
It seemed to Jocelyn that the glamour which she had once loved so much about flying had well and truly gone, turned around on its high heels, thrown its strung pearls to the wind and fled from the airport, leaving no trace of itself behind.
Gone were the men in smart suits, and the ladies with coiffed hair and immaculate dresses; they had been replaced by nondescript travellers in sportswear and comfortable clothes. Jocelyn pulled back her shoulders and smoothed down her blouse, fixing her eyes on the far side of the departure hall where a sign pointed to the executive lounge, the place where she hoped that she would be reunited with people like her, people who still got dressed up to fly, that still felt that it was a glamourous affair.
In the lounge she sat in the window that looked out on the airfield and pulled her compact mirror out of her soft leather handbag. She looked at her face and wondered if it was time to have a little work done perhaps, a small lift just to freshen up, maybe take back a few of her seventy years? She wasn’t vain, she had aged well, but she could look better… everyone could. Yes, she thought, pulling the skin at the side of her mouth back, she would add that to her list of things that she would get done as soon as she got home, after she had done this…
‘Can I get you a drink madam?’
A young waiter in a black waistcoat tugged her mind back into the room, saving her from thinking about what lay ahead.
‘Yes, an Espresso Martini, please,’ she smiled. That would take the edge off, help her to relax. It might only be nine o’clock in the morning here in London, but it was always five o’clock somewhere. She let out a small giggle, it was good to be back.
**********
‘There you go, Sir,’ Beverley put the glass of champagne down on 3D’s table, balancing the tray of boarding drinks on her other hand with the ease of someone who had done this for years.
‘Champagne, Mimosa or water madam?’ she asked the lady in 4A. Jocelyn looked up from flicking through the duty-free magazine.
‘Champagne, of course,’ she grinned.
Beverley smiled at the glint in the old lady’s eye, seeing the young woman that was still inside. She put the glass down next to her.
‘I hear it is nice in Quebec at this time of year?’ the lady asked, looking at her name badge, ‘Beverley.’
‘Oh yes, it is the best time to visit, the colours are spectacular,’ Beverly replied. The two women locked eyes for the briefest of moments.
Back in the galley Beverley smoothed down her black hair in the small mirror and reapplied her Dior lipstick.
‘Are you doing much this trip, Bev?’ Susie, the galley girl asked.
‘Catching up on some sleep,’ Bev smiled. ‘Fancy a walk in the morning?’
‘Sounds good.’ Susie slammed the cart back into its stowage with a thud.
‘All good?’ The catering man appeared behind them, clipboard pressing into his oversized high-vis coat.
‘All good,’ said Susie, flicking down the latches to hold the carts in place. ‘Thirty-three?’
‘Yep, catered 28 but I’ve given you some extras.’
‘And that’s why you are our favourite caterer, Kevin,’ Bev said, picking her tray back up.
‘’I hear it is nice in Quebec this time of year.’ Kevin said.
‘’Oh yes, it’s the best time to visit, the colours are spectacular,’ she replied over her shoulder as she stepped back out into the aisle.
**********
Beverley let out a sigh as she locked the toilet door behind her, shutting out the darkness of the aircraft cabin. It was 1am, and they had finally settled, but her crew rest was still two hours away. She pushed down the toilet seat and sat down, slipping her feet partially out of their shoes to relieve them and putting the empty duty-free bag on the side.
Leaning forward she ran her finger along the bottom of the door beneath the sink and felt the cold metal of the latch. Flicking it to the side the door sprung open, revealing the pipes and paraphernalia that were always there. She unclipped her torch from the loop of her belt and crouched down, shining its light into the furthest corner, behind the panel that was rarely removed.
The bottle was there, a litre bottle of vodka, wrapped in bubble wrap and held against the wall with tape, just as they said it would be. She removed it carefully, placing it into the plastic bag. Standing up again she flushed the toilet and ran the tap for a moment before opening the door and stepping back out into the dark.
‘Your duty-free,’ she said quietly, leaning down and handing the bag to the lady in 4A.
‘Lovely, thank you,’ Jocelyn said, taking it from her and wedging it down beside her in her seat. She looked around her as the air hostess walked away, it seemed that everyone was asleep accept her, but it would be some time before she would be able to switch off.
**********
Quebec
Jocelyn emerged feeling fresher from the bathroom; a hot shower and change of clothes had put a thin veil of normality on the day. 9am the clock said, and the sunlight that blanketed the room in golden hues was calling her outside. She would make sure that she saw some of the city before her evening departure. A double knock on the door was followed by a third moments later. ‘Housekeeping,’ came a man’s voice from outside.
She checked her appearance in the long mirror on the back of the door before opening it.
‘Good morning, Madam.’
Jocelyn looked down at the smiling Hispanic man, taken by his moustache that curled above his top lip.
‘Good morning,’ Jocelyn smiled back at his friendly face. ‘I hear it is nice in Quebec at this time of year?’
‘Oh yes, it is the best time to visit, the colours are spectacular,’ he said cheerily.
Jocelyn took a step back and let him in. ‘Well then I must go out and see them while you service the room.’
‘Enjoy your day, Madam,’ he called after her.
Jocelyn took a quick look over her shoulder at her unused bed, the bottle of Vodka still in its bag on the bedside table.
**********
London, England
Jocelyn couldn’t explain the feeling in words, but she felt alive, some exquisite energy was running through her veins and making her feel like her old self again. It was a buzz, something that she had once thrived on, and she hadn’t realised quite how much she had missed it. It had been thirty years since the last call, she thought they had deemed her too old perhaps, past it, and in many ways they would have been right. So, for thirty years she had just been Jocelyn Banks, wife to Henry, living in Suburbia with the other middle-class bores, forever on standby, always hoping that her phone would ring…
Her heart ached a little as she looked at the picture of her and Henry above the fireplace. Oh how she wished he was still here to share this with. Even though she knew he always worried, and had been relieved when the calls had finally stopped, he had never tried to hold her back. He was the only one that she had ever trusted with her secrets, the only one that loved her enough to keep them, lest he risked losing his beloved Jocey; but he had passed away a year ago now, and nothing could bring him back, she thought with a sad sigh.
The familiar tune of the news program made her reach for the controller and switch the tv off, she would avoid it for a while now, in case she found out what was in the bottle… her conscience was clear while she believed that it was Vodka. She took a sip of her Dom Perignon, twisting the crystal flute in her fingers as the bubbles danced up and down inside it. Pushing herself up from the sofa she walked to the mirror and admired her doctor’s amazing work, he had taken ten years off at least with nothing but a few injections. Now she was ready to step into this next chapter of her life, and she had the money to enjoy it in the style which she deserved.
**********
Quebec
‘We have ten dead politicians and no leads.’ The detective pulled at his hair as he paced the room. The three others all looked at the floor. ‘We must be missing something!’ But they had investigated everyone, every member of the staff at the hotel they were staying at, every guest… not one of them had the means or any history that pointed to them being able to get hold of the poison… Not. One. Of. Them.
He slammed his fist on the table as he sat down. Someone had just got away with murder on a huge scale, and they had done it on his watch…
DIVERSION
What would happen if you missed your flight? Would the disruption in your timeline lead to your life taking a whole different path? Will you arrive at a totally new destination?
​
​
Thursday November 27, 1998.
0600hrs
Julia groaned, reaching over to press the snooze button on her alarm clock without opening her eyes. It was still dark outside, and cold… and nothing about it made her want to get up. She drifted back into the warm coziness of sleep, a small smile of contentment on her face.
Beep!! Beep!! Beep!!
It seemed like only a second had passed. ‘Phone in sick,’ Liam breathed on the back of her neck as he ran his hands up inside her pyjama top to her breasts. She could smell the stale odour of alcohol on his breath and wondered what time he had come in from his night out with the boys. No, she wouldn’t be staying home just to watch him on the sofa suffering all day, sucking all the joy out of her life like a sponge. She loved him, but after five years together she knew him too well.
‘I can’t,’ she said putting one leg out of the bed and feeling the cold air on her foot. Maybe one day he would get a decent job and they could have the heating on a bit more often, she thought before stopping herself; it wasn’t his fault that luck was never on his side with work, was it? ‘I need the allowances, and a few bits from the shops,’ she excused herself. ‘It’s Black Friday,’ she added hastily, before he moaned at her for wasting ‘their’ money, ‘and it will be fifty percent off everywhere. I should be able to get some Christmas shopping done and still bring some money back.’
Liam rolled over without a word, she knew he would rather she just didn’t go away at all.
‘And I’ll get your fags, you’re nearly out,’ she added, extracting a small grunt of appreciation.
Julia went into autopilot, dressing in her uniform and scraping her long dark hair into her usual up-do, a slick of red lipstick, jacket on, and she headed downstairs. The clock in the hallway read 0628, for once she was running early, even if it was only by two minutes.
Something caught Julia’s eye as she carried her for-now almost empty suitcase past the living room door. She gasped and stopped in her tracks. On the coffee table, amongst an overflowing ashtray and empty beer cans she caught sight of her new passport… she must have left it there last night when she was filling out the forms she needed to hand in today. Julia shook her head and thanked her lucky stars that she had noticed it, avoiding what would have been a huge problem. She quickly swiped it out from underneath Liam’s mess, while thinking how no doubt the same mess would be there when she got back in three days’ time.
Thursday November 27, 1998.
0628hrs
Julia sighed in resignation as she glanced sideways at the mess Liam had left in the living room. No doubt it would still be there when she got back, she thought as she headed quickly for the front door with her suitcase, taking her winter coat from the hook and putting it on. Landing days had once reduced her to tears when she would come home to that kind of thing, until she had decided to appreciate her trips away and accept that being a good wife involved doing most (all) of the housework. Once she had accepted this the arguments had pretty much stopped, and for the sake of a bit of extra work her life was much less stressful. It wasn’t that the resentment didn’t still linger there in the background, but her mum had told her that most women felt the same, and she had also pointed out that Julia was one of the lucky ones who got to have little breaks. Julia knew she was right, while all her friends had failed to find a lasting relationship so far, she couldn’t help but think it was because they expected too much, and she had succeeded because she was a ‘realist’… like her mum, wise beyond her twenty-five years.
The ice was thick on her car and the cold wind bit at her cheeks and fingers as she scraped it off the windows. The thought of the Orlando sunshine and the Black Friday bargains in The Florida Mall made her smile despite it all and she drove out of their road without looking back. This was her time, the time when she got to be just her.
As she turned into the next road she felt the excitement for the trip start to grow, and she reminded herself that she needed to stop by the manager’s office to drop the forms about her new passport in…
Julia’s stomach flipped and she quickly checked that no one was behind her before putting her foot down hard on the brake. In a couple of turns she was facing the direction of home and careered back into her road, relieved that she had only been around the corner when she realised she had left her new passport on the table.
Thursday November 27, 1998.
0715hrs
Julia couldn’t stop smiling as she sang along to the car radio. Her mind was already in Orlando, her arms full of shopping. Her flight was almost full, a Jumbo Jet laden with people as happy as she was to be getting away. The traffic was beginning to get heavier, and slower, all four lanes of the motorway filled with cars. She looked into the windows of those she passed, wondering if any of them were going to the same place that she was, if they were as happy as her. By the looks on some of their faces she was pretty sure that most of them weren’t. She looked at the clock, 0715, as long as it didn’t get any slower than this she would make it in good time.
Looking over her shoulder, Julia indicated and pulled into the fast lane. She pushed down on the accelerator, relieved to finally be moving at over 30mph. She rolled her eyes as brake lights flashed in front of her… why was it that whatever lane she got in seemed to become the slowest? Impatiently she swerved into a gap to her left, and then over again, traversing the traffic like a boy-racer. She laughed out loud at her unnatural behaviour, finding enjoyment in the weaving in and out that she had always hated Liam for doing.
Absorbed in the moment she wondered whether anyone around her noticed how clever she was being, catching an old man gesturing wildly at her as she cut across and in front of him. She laughed and tossed her head back theatrically at him in the rear-view mirror, bringing it back up too late to notice the car in front of her coming to a sudden stop.
Julia could feel the adrenalin coursing through her body, her legs trembling as she pieced together what had just happened. Someone was knocking on her window and asking if she was okay, but she couldn’t answer them just yet, not for a moment, not until she knew whether she was or not. She moved only her eyes, looking down and around her. She tuned into her body, checking for any pain, before daring to move her hands, touching her face, circling her feet under the dashboard. The steering wheel seemed much closer to her now somehow. Julia sighed in relief, sinking back in her seat, from what she could tell she wasn’t hurt.
The old man was at her window. She expected him to be angry with her, but his face was full of concern when she finally looked at it. He opened her door and Julia shakily undid her seat belt, letting him help her out of the car. She looked in horror at the front of her beloved old Ford Fiesta, all crumpled up into the back of the Land Rover in front, which had crashed into the car in front of it, and that one into the car in front of that. With the old man’s car just touching her bumper, Julia counted five cars in total that were not going to be making it to where they were heading any time soon. People were standing all around, their cars abandoned at funny angles across the motorway as they had tried to avoid being one of those that now stood in need of rescue. More cars crawled past them at a snail’s pace on the inside lane, people staring out at them to see what had happened, before putting their foot down and taking off into the now empty motorway ahead.
Julia sighed. She wouldn’t be going to Orlando today, that was for sure.
Thursday November 27, 1998.
0720hrs
Something was definitely going on up ahead, Julia thought with frustration as every lane slowed almost to a standstill. She still had plenty of time but not if they stopped completely. She looked over to the inside lane, the only one that seemed to be moving, and wished that she hadn’t tried to be clever when she had come over into the fast lane. Checking her wing mirror she waited for the opportunity to move over; she avoided eye contact with other drivers who were no doubt frustrated too, but she had a flight to catch and politeness wasn’t going to get her there on time. One last quick tug of the steering wheel and she had made it, ignorant to the beeping of the driver she had cut in front of. He had plenty of time to slow down, or he would have crashed into the back of her after all, she thought in silent argument with him.
It wasn’t long before she saw the cause of the traffic jam, as she slowly drove past the cars that had not been as lucky as her, four in total stacked one behind the other in various stages of disrepair. People were stood out of their cars, bewildered looks on their faces, and she was pleased to see that no one seemed to have been hurt. An elderly man whose car was parked in the back of a Land Rover caught her eye as she drove past, and she smiled back sympathetically. There was nothing she could do to help them she told herself as the motorway opened up in front of her. Of course, if there had been injuries she would have stopped and helped, she was trained for everything from broken bones to CPR, but there hadn’t been any, had there? She put her foot to the floor, her old Ford Fiesta excited by the chance to open up and show what it could do. By the time they reached 90mph Julia had forgotten the crash and the smile was firmly back on her face.
Thursday November 27, 1998.
1030hrs
Liam was standing at the door with a strange expression on his face as Julia got out of the taxi. She had called him from the garage as soon as the rescue truck had dropped her and the car off, and told him that she was okay, so why did he look so worried?
‘Thank you,’ she said, handing the driver a five-pound note for the short journey and taking the still empty suitcase from him. Liam was walking down to meet her, completely out of character for him, usually he didn’t even get up off the sofa when she got back.
‘Here, let me take that,’ he said, taking the case. She looked at him suspiciously, she wasn’t hurt and she hadn’t been gone five minutes, so why was he acting like this? ‘I’ve put the kettle on,’ he said with a small smile, but he couldn’t look at her and she followed him up the path slowly, wondering if something else had happened in the short time she had been gone.
Julia shut the front door behind her and kicked off her high heels, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat hook.
‘Sit down love, I’ll just get you a nice cuppa,’ Liam called, heading for the kitchen.
Yes, something was definitely up with him.
‘It’s okay, I’m fine honestly,’ she said cheerily, ‘I’ll just tidy up a bit first.’ She walked into the living room and started to pick up the rubbish from the table, at least she had the whole day off now to sort this all out, she thought, although she still had to figure out how she was going to do the standby they had reassigned her tomorrow without a car. It was times like this they could really do with both driving, but Liam was still banned for six more months… not that it had really been his fault, he’d only had a couple of cans that night, other people could get away with that but he always seemed to be unlucky.
The TV was on, but the volume was down, and she glanced at the screen for a second. Breaking News was written across the bottom, and she stopped to watch when she saw Heathrow Airport behind the reporter. Julia reached for the remote control from the arm of the chair and turned the volume up to see what she had missed.
‘…at this time we have no more information as to why the plane came down just a few miles from here, but it is presumed that sadly all on board flight OS811 have perished,’ he said gravely to the camera.
Julia felt the hairs stand up on her neck, and the room seemed to wobble. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Liam stood frozen in the doorway. OS811, the flight that she was supposed to have been on… For the second time that day her legs went weak.
Thursday November 27, 1998.
1000hrs
‘We should probably do Macy’s tonight, and then meet super early tomorrow for the others,’ Julia was speaking fast with excitement to Julia, the girl next to her on the jumpseat. ‘Target opens at six I think. Then we can do the mall, and we’ll definitely get candles last, they are too heavy to lug around…’
‘Sounds amaaazing,’ Julia said, her eyes wide as Julia told her all about the bargains she had bagged last year, and the year before. She would make sure that she showed this new girl how to do Black Friday in the states properly.
The plane pushed back from stand and they were soon moving slowly along the frosty taxiway. Julia looked out of the window and gazed along the huge wing that stretched out from where she was sitting halfway down the plane. Her mind was running over her ever-growing list but despite her preoccupation something caught her eye. In the distance she could make out an unevenness on the wing’s surface, something colourless seemed out of place on the part of the aircraft she had looked out at countless times before.
Julia reached above her left shoulder, hesitating for a moment before taking the phone from its stowage, she was probably wrong, but if that was ice on the wing then she couldn’t afford not to report it. Better safe than sorry, she thought, as her mum always said. Julia took a deep breath and dialed the Flight Manager, hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake and causing a big unnecessary fuss over nothing.
Forty-five minutes later the plane rumbled along the runway, gaining speed before lifting up and taking flight. Julia looked at her watch, sighing at the lost shopping time. She had done the right thing though; the captain had said it was a good job she had noticed the ice, and thankfully the deicer truck was still close by after already deicing them once that morning. Maybe they would make up some time en-route, she thought hopefully.
(20 Years Later)
Thursday November 29, 2018.
1700hrs
‘Love you mum, I’ll see you at the airport,’ Julia said, hanging up the phone and smiling. She was looking forward to her mum coming over, the woman deserved a nice long break.
‘We’re off, Mum,’ Ellie said, walking towards her. Julia opened her arms up for a hug, looking around for the new boyfriend, Josh. He had gone out already.
‘Aim high, and never make do,’ Julia ruffled her daughter’s smooth, sun-bleached hair.
‘I know, I know,’ Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘I can have the world,’ she said, repeating what she had heard a million times before.
‘Yes, my love, you can,’ Julia smiled. ‘Now go grab some bargains,’ she said, handing her sixteen-year-old the keys to her car.
‘Thanks Mum,’ Ellie hugged her tightly, before skipping through the door that led into the garage.
Julia sighed, remembering when she had been that excited. She walked to the window and watched her precious only child drive down the street, her boyfriend sat beside her. He was sweet, and very polite, but she wasn’t sure if he was quite good enough for her yet, only time would tell. A shiver went down her spine as she remembered this same day twenty years ago, how her friends had been so excited to go shopping but had never made it.
‘Honey,’ her husband always seemed to know when she needed to be snapped out of a moment.
‘Coming,’ she answered. Outside, Ben sat in the sunshine at the table by the pool, with a bottle of expensive champagne opened and two glasses poured. Despite the tragedy that had happened so long ago they marked it with champagne every year, because without it she wouldn’t be here now. What had happened that day had made her wake up from the bubble she had been in. It had given her the courage to leave Liam when he was so insistent that she left her job, the one pleasure she had, even when her own mother had sided with him. It had given her the courage to accept that invitation to dinner from a passenger six months later, and then move to America just to be with the same man who now sat in front of her as her husband. It had given her the courage to chase the dreams she dared to have, and now she lived in this beautiful house in Malibu, with the most wonderful husband and a child she had raised to believe that she could have the world, just like she did. She was sad for those who never realized this, people like her mum, who had been so sure that life was meant to be a little bit hard.
‘To us,’ Ben said, raising his glass.
‘To us,’ Julia raised hers and smiled. ‘And where we are now.’
Thursday November 29, 2018.
1700hrs
Julia looked up at the plane that flew overhead as she walked up the path with her arms full of balloons and felt the familiar twinge of longing she got every time she saw one. She still missed being crew so much, even after all these years.
‘Maybe it’s time for you to put your husband first,’ her mum had said kindly when she had gone round there in tears that day almost twenty years ago. Landing day was always hard at the best of times, but after you have done a Black Friday shopping marathon followed by a full flight, coming home to such a mess had led to a huge argument between her and Liam. ‘Perhaps it’s time to stop flying love? We all have to make sacrifices in marriage, and maybe it’s time to settle down now. Not many men would put up with their wife galivanting off like you do...’
She’d been right of course, as soon as she’d given in and stopped flying, started behaving like the devoted wife, Liam had really upped his game, and he was a good, hard-working husband and father. Julia smiled to herself and turned her key in the lock of her smart three-bed semi. She pushed the door open and immediately heard the thunder of footsteps from upstairs.
‘Mum, I love them,’ shouted Jacob, throwing his arms around her as soon as he was close enough. He was growing so fast, she thought, his arms around her at chest height now.
‘I’m sure you have grown since yesterday,’ Julia said, standing back and looking at him, her hands on his shoulders. ‘Look at my birthday boy, all grown up and in double digits now!’
Jacob laughed, looking at the giant 1 and 0 balloons behind her.
‘Right,’ Julia said briskly. ‘That is the last thing I needed to go out for, let’s get this party ready.’
‘Right-ho,’ Jacob marched behind her into the living room where Zoe and Emily were sprawled out on the floor playing computer games. Jacob dived in between them, making the girls groan at their sometimes-annoying younger brother.
‘You have to be nice to me today remember, it’s my birthday,’ he said smugly. Julia caught the look shared between the girls a moment before they both pinned him down and started to tickle him. She stood and watched them, her heart almost bursting.
‘Love, is that you?’ Liam called from the kitchen at the back of the house.
‘Coming,’ Julia called back and reluctantly left the happy scene.
In the kitchen Liam had poured her a glass of Prosecco and she kissed him as she took it. ‘What’s this in aid of?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, just to us and our wonderful family,’ Liam said, raising his glass.
‘To us,’ Julia raised hers back and smiled. ‘And to where we are now.’
The End
​
THE COFFIN
Did you know that in the middle of the night, half of your crew sneak downstairs or upstairs to get some sleep in a crew rest bunk? The smallest and most hard to climb into of these bunks are affectionately known as 'the coffins,' perhaps though, the name may be fitting in more ways than one...
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Johannesburg – London (JNB – LHR)
Aircraft: Airbus A340 – 600
Time: 0100 UTC
‘Right, I’m off,’ Brooke said over her shoulder as she stepped out of the back galley and into the cabin.
‘Sleep well,’ called Stephen from where he was tidying up the aftermath of the dinner service which had just zapped the very last of her energy.
‘Oh, I will,’ she said. She paused, reaching out to the panel next to the door and switching off the cabin lights, plunging Economy into darkness. There was no subtle, slow dimming of lights tonight, they needed to know that it was sleep time now, it was a non-stop flight from Johannesburg to London and not a non-stop service.
She walked quickly up the cabin, avoiding the eyes of anyone who looked her way in case they should dare to ask her for something. Reaching the crew rest door that stood invitingly in the middle of the cabin she took the key from its hidden pouch and turned it anti-clockwise in the lock before stowing it again. Inside Brooke swiftly descended the stairs into her favourite of all crew rest areas, that little piece of heaven that was loaded amongst the suitcases in the cargo hold. It was a personal preference, but for Brooke she could get to sleep in the tiny bunks under the stairs that were known affectionately as ‘the coffins’ in minutes. Others hated having to contort their bodies just to get into one, rushing down to secure the bigger bunks at the end, or pulling rank and reserving one with their name-badge rudely pinned to the curtain long before breaks even began. For her though, she had always been quite flexible thanks to her love of gymnastics as a child, the snugness of a coffin was perfect, and since they were always the last ones left there was never a need to rush down.
Brooke fumbled for her torch that hung from the belt loop of her skirt, someone had already turned out the lights, probably presuming that since first break started five minutes ago everybody was tucked up by now, just the dim glare of the control panels cast a grainy light at the bottom of the stairs. Brooke ran her left hand along the wall and felt her way around the stairs and to the back. All the curtains were pulled, and she was surprised to find that both coffins were occupied too. Brooke shone her torch around, confused for a moment. There were six bunks, with six crew on first break… so why wasn’t there a spare one for her? She pulled the corner of each curtain back gently, revealing the shapes of bodies behind, all cozy underneath their blankets, just as she wanted to be. Defeated, Brooke stood at the bottom of the stairs and shook her head, someone had obviously messed up the breaks, and her tired body was going to have to wait another three hours before it got a chance to sleep.
‘What happened?’ Stephen asked, as she walked back into the galley. He was wiping down the galley sides, order restored quickly to the chaos she had left just a few minutes before.
‘All the bunks are taken,’ Brooke moaned.
‘Oh no.’ Stephen looked at her sympathetically. He knew how tired she was, he had been at the room party with her until 3am, and right now she wished that she had left when he did and not when the sun had come up. Despite having the whole day in her hotel room to recover, sleep had been fitful, and she really just needed to press the reset button… crew rest had been her only shining light as she had powered through the first two hours of the flight.
‘Somebody must have been confused,’ Brooke said. ‘I guess I’ll be on second break then.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Here,’ Stephen pulled down the jump seat at the back of the galley and patted it, indicating for her to sit down. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa.’
‘’Make it strong,’ Brooke said, if she had to stay awake for another three hours she would need a huge dose of caffeine. ‘And don’t ask me to do a juice and water for at least an hour,’ she warned, her flight-attendant smile was unavailable for the foreseeable future.
********
‘Right, get yourself off,’ Stephen said, gently shaking Brooke’s shoulder as she sat nodding off on the jump seat. She heaved herself up and nodded, actually struggling as she tried to find the energy to talk.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not tired,’ Stephen answered nonchalantly, cleaning the galley side again as he had seemed to be doing for hours on end. Brooke shot him the most shocked look that she could muster. Nobody declined a three-hour break on a twelve-hour overnight flight… nobody. Clearly though, Stephen was one of those superhuman types that could just keep going, and she wasn’t hanging around trying to persuade him what his was missing out on.
She followed one of the other girls in through the door and pulled it closed behind her, sliding the latch across to lock it. There was excited chatter below as the others quickly undressed and climbed into their bunks that were still warm from the previous occupants. Calls of ‘night all,’ were followed by the swish of a curtain and the extinguishing of the light behind… no one was wasting any time. Brooke waited patiently on the stairs until she could squeeze through and to the back again, having seen all the other bunks be filled and so knowing that both the coffins must be free since Stephen wasn’t coming down.
This time she could see, she was the last one in and as such was responsible for turning out the lights. Turning the corner behind the stairs Brooke was surprised to see the curtain pulled across one of the undesired bunks. Another day she wouldn’t have questioned it and would have just climbed into the other, but today she had had time to do the calculations. There was no way that she could ignore the injustice that not only had she missed out on her first break, but now someone had almost got away with staying in bed through them both; she didn’t care how tired they were.
Brooke leaned down and pulled the thick curtain of the bottom coffin back on its runners with a whoosh, hoping that the sound would disturb the inhabitant. She could make out a large man’s body, clothed and laid on his back, without a blanket to cover him. She knelt down to see better, unable to recognize who the culprit was, and trying to remember the rest of the crew… but apart from Stephen she couldn’t recall another male.
The light overhead didn’t quite reach into the bunk and Brooke reached out for the shoulder that she could make out closest to her, shaking it at first gently and then not so. The ferocity of her shaking increased with her annoyance, until she couldn’t help herself any longer and unclipped her torch from her belt.
‘It’s time to get up sleeping beauty,’ she said abruptly, clicking the button and shining the light rudely into his face… Brooke dropped the torch. She could hear herself making a noise, a strange involuntary mixture of a scream and a gasp, as she jumped up and backed away. Her eyes were fixed to the shape of the body that lay motionless still… the dead body that had just taken the once affectionate term ‘the coffin’ to a whole new level.
**********
Landing into London Brooke wondered how she had managed to hold it together these past six hours, knowing what she knew about what was below the cabin floor. With no intentions of diverting over Africa, they had pushed on to home, pretending to the passengers that things were just dandy, smiling with gritted teeth. She sat now in First Class with the others, adrenaline still keeping her on high alert, and with an overwhelming urge to run off the plane. That wouldn’t end well though, not with the dozen or so police officers that had boarded as soon as the doors were opened. With the passengers long-gone, they had had what she assumed was a debrief and were now feebly answering whatever question the police officers could think of next.
‘Do you usually check the crew rest area before leaving?’ A lady officer asked Anita, the Flight Manager, her notepad open and pen poised.
‘Yes, Chloe?’ Anita turned to the new girl who had been responsible for that, who was sat bolt upright with a petrified look on her face.
‘It’s my fault.’ Stephen held his hand up before Chloe could speak. Brooke could see the worry on his ashen face, the face of someone who knew that they had really messed up. ‘I wanted to show Chloe how to do the checks, so I went down with her to test all the equipment. I said I’d check the back bunks but I couldn’t have done it properly. I’m so sorry.’ He shook his head slowly, knowing that he had just committed the heinous crime of not doing his pre-flight checks properly. It wasn’t that they all didn’t skip the odd thing occasionally, but he had just been caught out in the most spectacular of ways. Brooke looked at him with sympathy and hoped that his honesty would go some way towards them in the office forgiving him, that he hadn’t just ended his career in this way.
‘Right folks,’ an older policeman who looked like he was in charge, appeared behind them and stood by the opened aircraft door. ‘You can all get off home now, you’ve had a long night.’ Sighs of relief were followed by crew and pilots standing and gathering their bags together quickly.
‘We are pretty sure the poor bloke was just trying to stowaway,’ Brooke overheard him saying to the Captain as she passed them huddled together in the galley opposite the door. ‘He was an airport employee, and we don’t suspect any foul play. That’s all I can tell you, but we’ll get in touch if we need any information from you.’
Brooke looked down the cabin as she made to get off, just as a black body bag was lifted through the crew rest door and into the empty cabin. Her body turned cold and she shivered, turning her eyes away quickly and walking hurriedly off the plane. All the way at the end of the jetway she could see Stephen walking with giant strides, obviously desperate to get away; she was glad that it wasn’t her that had slipped up and hoped that she would fly with him again one day so that they could talk about what had happened with hindsight; he was a nice guy.
**********
Stephen sank back into the soft leather seat of his car. It was a beautiful day and enough of it had been wasted. He put on his sunglasses and turned the key in the ignition, the throaty roar of the Porsche engine making him smile. Brighton would be alive this afternoon, and he would be there in an hour if he put his foot down.
As he drove towards the carpark barrier he pulled up alongside Brooke who gave him a supportive wave. He tried to look worried and hoped that she bought it. No, he wasn’t worried about not doing his crew rest checks, he was quite sure that they wouldn’t sack him, maybe a painful bit of retraining and a warning… but that would be all. No, he had just got away with so much more than that.
That taught him, he thought as he sped along the M25, the speedometer passing 110 mph. No one got away with stealing from him, and especially not some jumped up South African ground staff guy who thought he was all that. He laughed as he remembered the look of shocked recognition when they boarded on the plane. There he was, his Grindr date from the previous night, mindlessly cleaning the cabin with Stephen’s Breitling watch proudly on his wrist.
Perhaps he had gone too far, okay so yes he had, but the scum had deserved it. He had been grinning like an excited child when Stephen beckoned him down into Crew Rest when no one was looking, thought Stephen was too dumb to notice the watch… had actually believed he was so special that Stephen wanted a repeat of their actions from the night before. No love, I wasn’t blind drunk like I had been then, and no, the pillow across your face as you lay on the crew rest floor wasn’t some part of the game you stupid piece of shit… and you realized too late…
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