Up Up and Away

by Nesta Tuomey

  While Florrie slept, Cecily came down for a chat and told Kay that Sandy Hayes was over in London too, working with a travel agent. She had tried unsuccessfully to get into BEA and was intending now to try for Middle Eastern Airlines after Christmas. Her own training with BEA had been rigorous enough, Cecily admitted. When her six months on Europe were up she was hoping to fly eastern routes. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit Bangkok,’ she told Kay enthusiastically. ‘It’ll be a marvellous chance to really see the world.’

  Kay nodded, unable to get over the change in the other girl. She was a new woman, brimming over with personality and confidence. Clearly all her doubts and indecisiveness had been rooted out, along with the unbecoming fringe.

  ‘Do you still want to be a pilot?’ she asked her curiously.

  ‘Absolutely! As a matter of fact I’ve started taking lessons at Luton aerodrome. I’ve ten hours flying time already under my belt,’ Cecily admitted proudly.

  Listening to her Kay was torn between envy and admiration at the other girl’s dedicated pursuit of her ambition despite all her set-backs. There was no doubt but it made their own clique’s preoccupation with men and fashion seem so trivial somehow. Stifling her emotions, she said generously, ‘Good for you, Cecily! You’ll be piloting for BEA before you finish.’

  ‘That’ll be the day!’ Cecily grinned delightedly and went off to answer a call-bell.

  As the seat-belt sign was switched on, Florrie awoke and sat up looking a little more refreshed.

  ‘We’ll soon be down,’ Kay told her, glad to see some of the tension gone from her friend’s expression.

  As they landed she was glad she had the brainwave of ringing Dave. With transport, there was just a chance they would make Kingsbridge Station in time to get Florrie on an evening train to Cork. A few hours at this stage could mean the difference between life and death.

  Oh God, she prayed silently as the wheels touched down smoothly, let Florrie be in time.

  That same day, Captain Pender and his wife left Tenerife. They flew with Lufthansa to Frankfurt on the first leg of their journey home, and in deference to Graham’s rank were seated in the first-class section of the Boeing.

  Six weeks in the Canaries had bronzed Graham’s skin and twice daily swimming and water-skiing rendered his body lean and fit. He had never felt or looked better and he had seen confirmation of this in the stewardess’s face when he came on board. Certainly he looked a good ten years younger than on the day he had left to go away! Which brought him right back down to nearly forty again, he reminded himself wryly.

  Beside him Sile was exclaiming over the hot Turkish towels which were brought to them as they waited on the runway before take-off.

  ‘You really do know how to do a first-class service,’ she gushed up at the steward, a fair- haired Hun with cold blue eyes and a cruel mouthful of teeth. ‘Our little airline could learn a thing or two from you. Believe me, you’re streets ahead of us.’

  Graham frowned as the man aloofly nodded agreement. How dare she belittle their own airline, he thought. Celtic’s first class was rated one of the best you could get, even if it didn’t begin and end with these stupid towels she was going into such transports over. He swore softly as his fingers came in contact with the roasting hot cloth and immediately dropped it.

  ‘No bother, Captain,’ the muscular stewardess gave him a generous view of her cleavage as she bent to retrieve it. She and the steward could have been of the same family, so similar were their fair predatory looks.

  ‘Thanks,’ Graham replied, annoyed at the curious glances they were drawing from the rest of the first-class passengers. By this time the whole plane loan couldn’t but know they were air crew. He stuck his nose in the menu and tried to ignore the way Sile openly revelled at being the centre of attention.

  Unlike his wife, Graham was sensitively aware that not all passengers are of the mind that airline pilots should be treated like royalty, certainly not to the exclusion of those who have actually paid the full fare for such deferential treatment. Still, he thought, there was no denying it was a marvellous way to travel and irritating though it was to have to admit it, Sile had a point; Lufthansa did put on a bloody good service.

  After a delicious lunch, followed by liquors, an invitation was extended by Captain Schmidt to visit the flight deck. There Graham spent a pleasant ten minutes discussing the merits of the Boeing 707 and in the course of his conversation with the German pilot, learned that Lufthansa had another jet on order from Seattle. Well CA were expecting delivery of two more 707’s in early January, Graham countered, and was pleased to see by his curt nod that Schmidt was impressed.

  An hour later Graham hurried Sile before him across the tarmac and hastily boarded the Viscount bound for Dublin. As he followed the hostess to their seats, he was aware that they had already kept the Frankfurt flight waiting a good ten minutes while they made the transfer from the Lufthansa Boeing, and he was anxious now to be on their way without further delay.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ he muttered when she politely asked them if they were comfortable, and prayed Sile wouldn’t make a fuss about not getting a window seat. She had really excelled herself coming from Tenerife, he thought in disgust, remembering her sycophantic remarks to the steward. He stretched his legs feeling cramped in the small space and almost tripped the little blonde hostess as she passed.

  ‘Sorry,’ he shot out a hand to steady her. ‘Thought I had more room.’

  ‘It is a bit cramped when you’ve got such long legs,’ she retorted with a grin, her eye running over the muscular length of him appreciatively.

  Graham warmly returned the grin.

  Beside him, Sile choked in indignation and placed a possessive hand on her husband’s arm.

  ‘Honestly, darling,’ she remarked in a high carrying voice, ‘it never ceases to amaze me what plain girls they’re taking into the airlines these days.’

  Graham winced as with slightly heightened colour, the hostess continued on down the aisle checking seat-belts. He was all too familiar with Sile’s often expressed opinion that the standard in Celtic Airways had dropped since the day she was admitted to its august ranks. But did she have to be quite so bitchy! He was at a loss to understand the fierce jealousy she harboured towards this body of women she had once belonged to, not accounting for his own often irascible reaction at times to younger pilots.

  ‘In my day, hostesses were a different class altogether,’ Sile went on predictably, ‘Some were radiographers... even doctors.’ She curled her lip disdainfully. ‘Not like today’s lot... all so ordinary and no looks to speak of.’

  Graham grimaced and buried his face in a newspaper. There were times when he actively disliked his wife. To listen to her, anyone would imagine she had been one of the professional group she named and not the spoiled daughter of a wealthy clothing manufacturer.

  Graham was glad to be going home. Six weeks was a long time to be away and longer than he had envisaged at the start of the holiday. But after the gruelling summer he had put in on the Atlantic, he knew it had been the sensible thing to do.

  He had felt a bit guilty at leaving the boys so long but thank goodness they were in boarding-school and it had been merely a matter of phoning the rector of the college. He had managed to speak to Jeremy too and was disquieted to learn that Nicky had spent some days in the sick bay with some kind of breathless attack. It had almost decided Graham to fly home at once but as Sile pointed out, if it were anything really serious the school would have contacted them.

  On reflection, Graham had been inclined to agree with her. Besides, he hadn’t been quite ready for the re-entry and though six weeks might seem a long time away, a lot of other pilots were taking far longer. Christy and Jeannette Kane had gone away before them and hadn’t seemed unduly worried about leaving their three children in the care of Christy’s seventy year old mother.

  It was great to feel to thoroughly refreshed, Graham thought, ready to pick up the threads again. Was Kay
back from Spain, he uneasily wondered, aware that he hadn’t treated her too well their last time together. Ever since that night Graham had to admit to being a bit ashamed. Oh, not about taking her virginity, he defended himself. Any man would have found it impossible to control himself in such a steamy situation and he had honestly believed her protected. No, it was how he had behaved afterwards that he wasn’t too happy about. Damn it! It wouldn’t have killed him to have shown her a bit more consideration, he acknowledged contritely. In the circumstances the poor kid had been entitled to it.

  Graham had always prided himself on being a good lover, not only in the physical sense but in a considerate, wooing way, and to say he was unhappy with the self image that night evoked was an understatement. It had been like a nightmare when she confessed she was no longer taking the Pill. To think that for months he had exercised almost Herculean self-control and the one time he had let his guard slip. Wham! It was like a kick in the crotch.

  He couldn’t deny it had been a relief getting away to Tenerife two days later and being spared the necessity of seeing her again. A spirit of self-interest had dictated against even sending a note. It was for the best, he convinced himself. In the meantime they would have ample opportunity to cool off, as well as decide their future position.

  By this Captain Pender had really meant ‘his’ position for it was a sad but true fact, he feared Kay would make demands on him and might even contact his wife heaven forbid, or that she would become pregnant and he would be the talk of the pilots’ lounge. He could just hear the whispered sneers, the scarcely veiled innuendo, and his pride quivered at the imagined blow. Just dwelling on all the unpleasant consequences he would be made to suffer for that one intensely pleasurable act had brought Graham out in a cold sweat. That it would be far worse for Kay, he had not even paused to consider, he was so busy panicking about himself. All he had wanted to do was get away to the sun and gradually rid himself of the burden of tiredness that was weighting him like a stone.

  After two weeks with nothing more arduous to do each day than decide which wine to have with his meals, he had been able to review what had happened with more understanding and less egotism. She was so beautiful but oh, so young, he told himself ruefully, recognising at the same time that it was this youthful naivety which had so engaged his heart from the first moment of beholding her in adorable disarray in Griffith House all those months before. With leisure to reflect, Graham had been touched afresh by the absence of any coquetry on Kay’s part, as well as her struggle to overcome an innate modesty in her eagerness to please him. With rueful, secret tenderness he thought of the pain he must have caused her that last night and remembered with a quickening of his blood, the moment of possessing her. Only then, pleasantly removed from tensions and worries, could Graham regret his callousness towards her, and find it in his heart to forgive her the trauma of having looked into his own soul, and the revulsion he had felt at what he saw there.

  Forty minutes later he turned thankfully in the gates of his house and parked in the front drive. By this he was sick and tired listening to Sile’s complaints about the poor cabin service on the Celtic flight.

  ‘Couldn’t even get a second cup of coffee,’ she was still grumbling, as she followed him into the house. ‘Disgraceful on a two hour flight! Twice I asked that fair-haired hostess you were so pally with but she just ignored me. I’ve a good mind to write in and complain her!’

  Well, what did you expect after your bitchy remark, Graham silently addressed her, as he picked up the pile of letters and circulars off the floor. The girl was only human after all. He left his wife sorting through the post and went back to bring in the cases. Typical of her not to lend a hand, he thought grimly, as he went in and out, making several trips.

  As he shut the door after him he heard her enraged yelp. Now what’s the matter, he wondered, going straight on up the stairs, anxious to get everything up to their room before flopping. He felt as if he had been travelling an inordinate number of hours and longed for a shower and a drink.

  ‘This won’t wait, Graham!’ Sile rapidly mounted the stairs after him, waving a letter in her hand. ‘Not for one flaming minute!’

  He dropped the cases on the floor and with a dreadful sense of premonition, turned to face her.

  ‘Of all the bloody cheek,’ she was shouting. ‘Actually writing to you in your own home.’

  Graham took the letter from her and when he saw Kay’s signature, his heart nearly failed him. Christ! he ejaculated silently. Oh sweet Jesus! How could she do this to me!

  As the girls emerged from Customs at Dublin Airport, Kay was relieved to see Dave waiting behind the metal barrier. So he had understood the position after all! She smiled in gratitude as he came towards them looking broad-shouldered and strangely unfamiliar in a smart new Burberry.

  ‘Hi, girls. You made it,’ he greeted them warmly. ‘So sorry, Florrie.’ He hugged her to him as naturally as if he were her lover, then with his other arm as easily encircling Kay, walked them to the entrance, his long slightly uneven stride forcing Kay to push the trolley that bit faster.

  ‘I’ve checked the trains to Cork,’ he told them. ‘We’ve missed the teatime one but there’s another around nine. It’s a slow one, I’m afraid... doesn’t get in until after one o’clock.’

  Florrie said timidly. ‘I’d like to phone home first...’

  ‘Of course,’ Dave agreed. ‘In that case the best thing is to go straight back to the house and ring from there.

  Outside, he unloaded the trolley and set off with their cases to where his little Volkswagen was parked. Kay followed, unable to get over the difference in his appearance.

  She eyed him secretly and told herself that only men with height and good shoulders could wear that style of caped coat with any assurance. Undoubtedly Dave Mason had both. She was disturbingly reminded that not only girls suddenly blossomed into raving, nubile beauties, boys have their metamorphoses too. It just took some getting used to, that was all.

  On the drive home Florrie sat quietly in the back, locked in her own private misery. For something to say, Kay chattered on about Sally and Eulogio and their marriage plans.

  ‘So the great romance is really on,’ Dave drawled. He sounded cynically amused, Kay thought.

  ‘She does seem serious about him,’ she agreed, not over her own surprise yet. ‘He has even taken her to meet his mother.’

  ‘That is serious.’

  Not wishing to pursue so lighthearted a subject in view of Florrie’s distress, Dave turned his concentration back to his driving. He wondered if Kay had met anyone she liked as much as her pilot.

  The house seemed cold and unfriendly without Molly. Kay carried her case upstairs badly missing her aunt. Of Bill or Peg there was no sign. She went downstairs again, deciding to ring the hospital and find out how Molly was but Florrie was still on the phone to Cork. Kay left her to make her call in peace and went into the kitchen where she found Dave in the process of setting out cups and saucers and warming the teapot.

  ‘Quite the little housewife,’ she teased, amused by the tea towel he had prudently tucked into the waistband of his pants.

  ‘You should see my Irish stew,’ Dave rolled his eyes at her wickedly, alluding to his boast that as a former boy scout, he could light a fire in a howling gale on one match, and produce a superlative stew.

  ‘We could do with it now,’ Kay sighed.

  Dave laughed. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for strong tea. I had a look but the cupboard would shame Mother Hubbard.’ He poured the dark mixture into a cup and put it in front of her.

  Kay added milk and took a sip of the strong liquid. It reminded her of the slop she had brought Florrie the previous night. How very long ago it seemed now. As she watched, Dave brought a cup out to Florrie in the hall.

  ‘Get that in you,’ he told her cheerfully.

  As Florrie took it with a wan smile of gratitude Kay saw the fond lingering pat on the cheek Dave gave her
. She glanced away, her own cheeks suddenly hot, feeling as if she had witnessed something very private. How nice for Florrie that Dave should care, she told herself dully. For so long had she taken his interest in herself for granted that she found it quite painful now to see him make such a fuss of her friend.

  ‘If the worst happens, I can always drive her down to Cork,’ he was saying as he came back into the room.

  Kay stared. Drive nearly two hundred miles at this hour! He must be mad about her, she thought.

  ‘Hey, you haven’t drunk you tea after all my housewifely efforts,’ he joked. ‘What’s the matter, Kay?’ he asked kindly. ‘Feeling worn out?’

  She nodded, unwilling to meet those calm, perceptive eyes. ‘Yes, a bit,’ she said at last. ‘What a day!’ She tried to laugh and failed. ‘The delays... should be used to them by now... but mostly from not knowing what to expect.’

  ‘Must have been gruelling.’ His tone was sympathetic. ‘But you made it, that’s the main thing. It was generous of you to come home with Florrie. Very,’ he said warmly.

  ‘I couldn’t let her come on her own,’ Kay said with a shrug.

  She had done it out of friendship for Florrie, she thought, but in the light of the tenderness she had just observed between them she might just as well have done it for him. Bringing his love safely back to him! She was amazed at how much she disliked the idea.

  ‘Well it was a kind thing to have done.’

  Reluctantly meeting his eyes, Kay was struck by the glowing look of tenderness she saw there. He really was crazy about her, she thought wretchedly, wishing she hadn’t been quite so generous. No good deed goes unpunished, she thought in miserable cynicism.

  ‘I can always go back later on if I want,’ she told him airily. ‘That’s the beauty of working for an airline.’

  ‘You’re going back?’ he glanced alertly at her.