by Nesta Tuomey
Going up the path, Dave gave the bell a polite ring and went on into the house. He found Kay in the kitchen sewing name tags on her uniform. Relaxing into a splitting horsehair chair by the fireplace , he listened to her description of the end of training lunch.
‘So what happened then?’ he asked with a grin, when Kay revealed that Orla and Lucy had ended up getting sick on the floor.
‘We mopped up and went home.’
‘They must have had one hell of a hang-over.’
Gin and Benedictine, Dave thought. Ugh! He reached across to lift a sleeve of her uniform jacket, rubbing the tweed between his fingers
‘Hey, don’t do that,’ Kay protested as the movement pulled it out of her grasp. She dived for the needle and after a moment located it, slanted like a spear in the faded carpet roses. Reaching for it, she pricked her finger and swore.
‘You should look quite well in it,’ Dave said consideringly.
Kay ignored the belittlement. It was just like Dave, she thought, never to offer full praise or acknowledgement. She knew the turquoise and gold uniform suited her, but to be honest the blondes looked best of all. Sally with her fair peach complexion and bell of golden hair quite took your breath away. And Penelope, with that enormous chest, looked equally impressive. She bit off the thread and taking another label, began sewing it on to her skirt.
‘Got into a hell of a stink I suppose,’ Dave referred back to the boozy lunch. He liked hearing the details of the hostess group and felt he knew them intimately.
‘Not really.’
Kay had been surprised there were no repercussions to what she and Sally privately alluded to as ‘Loosey’s Folly.’ Maybe this was because such things happened at every end of training demo and was even expected by the Hostess Chiefs. Or maybe it was all simply forgotten in the rush to prepare for the Wings ceremony.
‘I’d life to meet this Orla,’ Dave said. She glanced up in surprise.
That jolted her, he thought in satisfaction. ‘She’s not your type.’
Kay laid down her work for the moment, not if I am, her unspoken comment.
‘Oh, I don’t know. She sounds a bit of fun.’ He searched around for another name to throw at her.
‘Sandy too, now she sounds a real cracker.’
‘Perhaps, if you like them stupid,’ Kay said haughtily. She picked up her needle and commenced attack on her uniform gloves.
Dave realised that he had gone too far. Recollecting Sandy’s part in the lunch service, he had to agree she sounded flighty and not too bright on top.
‘When is this Wings thing you are planning?’ he asked, changing the subject. From what Kay had let fall, he knew there were plans afoot for some kind of celebration after the ceremony.
‘Nothing has been decided yet.’ Kay said vaguely.
For weeks the group had been discussing a venue for the Wings party but so far nowhere suitable had been found.
‘It’s sure to be a bit of a let-down anyway,’ she said off-puttingly.
Dave got the message. Well, if that’s the way she wants it, he thought, I won’t queer her pitch. Anyway he couldn’t spare the night with his next accountancy exam coming up so soon. ‘So I’m not going to meet Orly and Loosey after all,’ he said lightly, making Kay giggle in spite of herself. ‘What a shame.’ ‘There’ll be other opportunities.’
She put aside her bits and pieces and stretched.
Dave picked up the uniform beret and in keeping with his part as joker, stuck it at a rakish angle on his head.
‘Welcome on board,’ he cried in shrill falsetto.
‘Don’t!’ Kay choked with laughter, though not quite liking her precious uniform to be treated in this irreverent way. She made a grab for it, clawing breathlessly at his shoulders as he held off from her.
‘Give it to me,’ she implored, her breath warmly fragrant on his cheek as with a final lunge, she snatched upwards.
Dave’s stance of pretended indifference was not always easy to maintain, especially now with her so temptingly close. He wondered if his adopted attitude was a mistake, keeping control on himself with difficulty. Surely it was tantamount to delivering her into the hands of the predators that were almost certainly circling? He stared down at her with half-closed eyes, wondering if he might not be better off to grab her now and kiss some sense into her.
But he knew he would do nothing of the kind. He didn’t fancy a relationship that was one-sided, nor one that could be so easily advanced by mere physical manoeuvres. He plucked the beret from his head and bowed low in a courtly manner.
‘At your service, Mademoiselle.’
Kay crooned over it, examining it for signs of damage. Watching her with a half-smile, Dave was aware that the moment was lost. Again he was beset by doubts but he was the obstinate kind of young may who, on deciding on something determinedly follows it through regardless to the finish. When Molly entered the room, he turned towards her thankfully, almost glad of the interruption.
‘Sit down, Dave. You’re surely not going,’ Molly urged him back to his seat and sat herself down near the fire. Having wakened from her nap that afternoon with a chill, a touch of fever added brilliance to her cheeks and her tongue was hectically indiscreet.
Nothing fazed Dave, thought Kay, noticing the way he didn’t even blink when Molly began openly referring to her weak bladder and the inconveniences of her ‘old waterworks’. She was aware that Dave had always been fond of her aunt and supposed he found her a refreshing change from his own undoubtedly snobbish mother who would have fainted rather than mention anything so vulgar. Watching the smiling, grey-eyed young man, Kay decided, not for the first time, that Dave was a strange mixture. It was only towards herself that he was so casual. Kay supposed him to be a suitor though she could see little signs of it. She often thought she would drop in her tracks if he ever sent her a Valentine’s Day card or bought her perfume or flowers. Admittedly the gold charm he had given her on Christmas Day had rocked her slightly but she didn’t place any great significance on it. He had probably asked Breda to get it for him at the Jewellers where she worked.
No - Kay frowned and shook her head - Dave hadn’t changed. He still only dropped round when it suited him and then, like now, spent the most of his time talking to Molly. I mean why did he bother? If he had any sense he would realise he’d do far better to pay attention to her rather than her relatives. She sighed. He could be so irritating at times. Well, he had only himself to blame, she thought, when in retaliation she treated him in a cavalier fashion.
‘So long, Kay,’ he said when she went out with him to the door. ‘I expect to be kept fairly busy for the next few weeks to don’t count on seeing me for a while.’
Well honestly! Talk about playing hard to get! Kay felt the old irritation rising. ‘I expect to be fairly busy myself,’ she retorted coolly.
Okay, Dave Mason, she told herself grimly as his tall figure disappeared down the road, If that’s the way you want it, two can play at that game.
THIRTEEN
Next day their Wings ceremony took place. As she stood beside Sally with her gleaming gold wing clutched hotly in the palm of her hand, Kay felt pleased and excited. She watched the other members of the group being awarded theirs and thought how glamorous they all looked togged out in the gorgeous turquoise tweed uniform. After spending eight weeks with them in the classroom, Kay felt as though she knew them all intimately. Now the training was over. Her green eyes sparkled. Tonight was their Wings party and tomorrow their first flights.
‘Is that it?’ Sally enquired with an amused quirk of her eyebrow as they congregated by the drinks table to sip sherry and murmur self-consciously to each other. ‘Short and sweet,’ she chuckled. ‘I suppose now we’re officially out.’
Kay nodded, unable to help feeling just a little bit let down. Somehow pinning a wing on yourself was a bit like being dubbed Sir Knight and having to tap your own shoulder. Still, despite the absence of pageantry, it was all very exciting and sh
e couldn’t wait to examine her wing more closely. She followed her friend to where the others were lining up for a group photo.
‘Say cheese,’ the press photographer grinned. Light bulbs flashed. He angled his lens. ‘And again!’ capturing their smiles for posterity and the Evening Press.
‘I don’t expect it will ever make the papers, do you?’ Sally said, as though it didn’t much matter either way.
‘I’d be as glad if it didn’t,’ Kay lied. ‘I’m sure to come out looking awful.’
Secretly, she was counting on Noeleen Carmody seeing it and going green with envy. Only a week earlier she had bumped into Liz Foley in town and learned from her that the supervisor had told everyone that if Kay hadn’t left of her own accord she would have got the sack.
‘Jealous cat! She was wild you left to become an air hostess,’ Liz laughed, winding her ponytail tightly about her fingers, a schoolgirl habit she had not lost. ‘I can’t wait to get out of Smithfield myself. Come next June, I’m off to America.’
It pleased Kay to think of the Smithfield Insurance Corporation with one less piece of youthful fodder for Noeleen Carmody to blight. Maybe in time the only staff around her would be soured begrudgers like herself.
Recalled to the present, she could hear Sally saying,
‘Couldn’t be as bad as me. I blinked just as the flash went off. I’m sure to come out looking positively dopey. ‘Well anyway, newspaper photos are always ghastly. No one ever looks like themselves.’
Kay said nothing. As long as their photo was in the paper she didn’t care.
The Wings party was held in The Hollow, a big, barnlike pub a few miles from the airport. Everywhere else had been too expensive, or already booked. No one quite knew what to expect of the evening but the Pens, who had been to quite a few, said they could be good fun and the junior pilots sometimes looked in on them. Anyhow, Orla seemed to know a vast amount of them and was sure to bring some with her, so they had booked the venue for the night and designated Betty’s garda boyfriend to get them a bar extension..
Kay and Sally came in the main door and looked critically about them, deciding that The Hollow was the perfect place for assignations of the extra marital kind. In wooden cubicles, partially screened-off from view by looped-back dusty red velvet curtains, dubious couples sat regarding each other lustily.
‘It really should be called Sleazy Hollow,’ Sally said with a grin.
The girls came out again and wandered through the pub in search of the Beer Cellar. They had already stumbled by mistake into a big old-fashioned kitchen hung with copper pots and skillets and had shot out again at the sight of a villainous-looking bearded man occupied in the grisly task of dismembering a carcass.
‘Bluebeard!’ gasped Sally, always strong on imagination.
As they arrived at the Beer Cellar, they bumped into Cecily. She was with a tall gangling fellow in a spotted bow tie, whom she introduced as Malcolm. Noticing the absence of presentable-looking men, Kay was beginning to regret she had not asked Dave.
‘It would be absolutely frightful if none of the gang turned up till midnight,’ Cecily fretted, peering worriedly from under her fringe. ‘Malcolm was just asking where everyone was, weren’t you, Malcolm?’
‘Yes rather,’ Malcolm replied, making calf-eyes at Sally. He bought the girls drinks and they stood sipping them while Sally swung her shining bell of hair distractingly, sending the poor fellow up the walls.
Did she know the effect she was having on him, Kay wondered, uneasily suspecting that she did. It seemed a poor return for all Cecily’s friendliness. Fond and all as she was of Sally, Kay decided that she wouldn’t let her within a hundred miles of Malcolm if he had been hers.
Before long the disc jockey arrived and began hurling music at them. By eleven o’clock most of the group had turned up and with the influx of more men, the outlook began to look better.
Kay cradled her glass and swayed to the music of the Beatles’ ‘Love Me Do’. Earlier when she had dashed home to change and have a bite to eat, she had been delighted to find the photograph of the uniformed group in the late edition of the Evening Press. With a mixture of surprise and pleasure she had read the caption, ‘Twenty Celtic Airways Hostesses Get Their Wings.’ She had been relieved to see how well she looked - a bit serious maybe but not squinting or grimacing. Sally too needn’t have worried. Blinking had merely conferred on her downcast lids a somewhat saintly look which in no way detracted from her charm. None of them had been mentioned by name, still it was enough. Eat your heart out, Noeleen Carmody!
The Beetles came to an end and Brendan Bowyer began roaring out ‘The Hucklebuck’. Kay craned her neck looking for Sally but there were too many bodies on the floor to be able to see properly.
‘Are you one of the lovelies that took wing today?’ a male voice spoke suddenly in her ear. She turned to find a stout, affluent-looking man eyeing her interestedly.
‘Can’t you tell?’ Kay laughed back at him.
‘Oh like that, is it?’ He advanced good-humouredly and firmly traced her shoulder-blade with stubby fingers. ‘Definitely the beginnings of a wing on that one,’ he drawled comically, ‘Now let’s try the other.’
He repeated the procedure with such a deadpan expression that Kay laughed again. ‘Ah yes, several hours old I would say.’
He could have been anything between thirty and forty, with thinning sandy hair and a humorous face.
‘I suppose you’ll tell me what colour they are next,’ she said intrigued.
He stood back to take her in more completely, ‘Undoubtedly a very virginal white with a faint blush of pink.’
He inclined his head towards the floor where ‘The Hucklebuck’ was coming to a frenzied climax. ‘Care to chance such precious commodities out there?’
‘No,’ Kay admitted honestly.
‘Very wise,’ he approved. ‘Come and have a drink instead and we can talk some more about those angelic wings of yours.’
She followed him to the bar.
‘One nectar for m’lady and one jungle juice as ordered,’ he said, putting a gin and tonic before her as Sally came up with her partner in tow.
‘Kay, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ she exclaimed, pulling him forward. ‘This is Gerry. He absolutely hates air hostesses!’
With flushed face Gerry protested vehemently. ‘I never said that! All I said was...’
But Sally wouldn’t let him finish. ‘Isn’t he terrible?’ she appealed laughingly to Kay’s partner.
‘A philistine,’ he agreed, smiling back.
‘Imagine saying that all air hostesses were spoilt bitches,’ she continued indignantly. Gerry tore his hair. ‘I didn’t. I said all the air hostesses I’ve ever met acted like they were
God’s gift to man.’
‘Same thing,’ Sally said with a toss of her head. ‘Don’t think you’re going to slip out of it that easily, hostess-hater!’
‘Now you are wilfully misunderstanding me,’ Gerry groaned in a goaded voice.
He was very young, tall and thin with leather insets to the elbows of his tweed jacket. Late teens, Kay guessed. Probably a student.
He raised his arms imploringly. ‘Look ... I love air hostesses. I’m mad about them - at least since meeting you.’ He stared defencelessly at Sally, ‘Come and dance with me, you tantalizing, gorgeous woman, you.’
‘In a minute,’ Sally said carelessly. ‘First I must have a drink,’ wincing when Gerry stated baldly, ‘Okay, so long as it’s not brandy.’
‘Allow me.’ Kay’s partner signalled to the barman.
I don’t even know his name, Kay thought, embarrassed about making the introductions as Sally got her gin and a beer was placed before the scowling Gerry. Taking the plunge, she waved a hand towards her friend.
‘Meet Sally Carey, another lovely that took wing today.’
‘Honourable Harry at your service,’ the sandy-haired man responded gallantly, raising his glass to them both. ‘Delighted
to make your acquaintance’.
The night flew by. Dancing cheek to cheek with Harry, Kay was amazed to see that it was almost two o’clock. In another few hours she would be checking in for her flight to London. She felt a faint anticipatory thrill and heard Harry say, ‘Am I going to get to leave you home?’
‘Maybe.’ Suddenly tired, Kay stifled a yawn. It had been a long exciting day. Over his shoulder she glimpsed Cecily, rigidly erect in Malcolm’s arms. Nearby, Orla clung on to one of the Second Officers. She winked at Kay mouthing something like, ‘I’m floating.’
Kay was floating too. After all the gin it wasn’t surprising. When Harry put his lips to her ear again and murmured, ‘What do you say we slip away before the last dance?’ she nodded tiredly. Together they pushed their way free of the crowd.
In the cloakroom she met up with Sally and learned that she most decidedly wanted a lift home, Gerry’s only mode of transport being a bike and a punctured one at that.
‘What cheek!’ Sally cried, smoothing her hair with a comb, her cheeks flushed from all the dancing, her blue eyes bright.
‘You can bet I kindly but firmly declined.’
Kay grinned in sympathy. Quickly they renewed their lipstick and went to join Harry. Poor Gerry, Kay thought as they swept past the young man dejectedly pushing his bike. Sally snuggled deeper into the padded comfort of Harry’s jaguar.
‘Another night to be chalked down to experience, methinks,’ she said airily.
Neither she nor Kay looked back. The sophisticated life was not to be found via the crossbar of a bike. Of that, they were quite certain.
FOURTEEN
Next morning Kay reported for her supernumerary flight to find that she was due out on a London/Shannon, one of the toughest duties you could get. ‘The pits,’ Elaine and Catriona two of her co-hostesses agreed as they brought her to the cabin stores hut to collect the cash-float and flight manifestos. To make matters worse it was raining. Kay tagged along behind them, avoiding the worst of the puddles and feeling conspicuously new.
