‘Well, sort of,’ I say, blushing slightly.
‘No names?’ Tara chimes in.
‘No names just at the moment. It’s all a bit hush-hush.’
‘Hmm,’ says Tara, twisting her diamond sparkler around her finger. ‘Don’t like the sound of that somehow.’
‘Are you having an affair?’ Tania asks wide-eyed, tugging at her sleeves excitedly. ‘Is it someone at work?’
‘Of course,’ I decide to play along. ‘And you all know him too. I’ll tell you his name at the end of the flight, if you haven’t guessed by then. I’m sure you know his wife. She’s cabin crew too. God, I hope she’s not a friend of yours!’
The two girls exchange uncomfortable glances. My joke has fallen like a dead balloon. I suddenly remember both these girls are engaged to pilots. And Tara’s man is on his second marriage. His former wife was also a hosty. Oh shit.
My ass is saved by Mike’s announcement. We’re landing in fifteen minutes.
‘I was only messing by the way,’ I tell the girls lamely as I shoot down the cabin, making sure everybody’s strapped in for landing.
Lydia is in a huff down the back.
‘You were ages,’ she moans, lathering her hands in foul smelling hand-cream. ‘Want some?’ She points the tube threateningly in my direction.
‘Oh no thanks, I was just catching up with the girls,’ I say breezily, ignoring her pouting face. ‘They’re both engaged, isn’t it marvellous?’
Lydia ignores me, yawns and puts the hand cream back in her bag. ‘I hope the flight isn’t delayed on the way home, I’m going to tell Mike to put the boot down.’
Tell Mike? Do you hear her? Cheeky so-and-so.
I wonder if there’s a Coronation Street omnibus on tonight. Why else would Lydia be in such a hurry to get home?
‘I’ve a date,’ she positively preens.
‘Really?’
‘Yep.’ She squashes in beside me and straps herself into the crew seat for landing. I dim the galley lights as the wheels go down.
‘Is it a first date?’
‘Yep’, she says again. God, she’s not giving much away, is she? Well, she can sod off if she thinks I’m going to keep probing for information. I couldn’t give a tinker’s curse who she’s going out with.
‘Don’t you want to know who he is?’ Lydia then asks, as I make a mental reminder to carefully check future rosters to make sure this annoying girl isn’t on any more of my flights.
‘I’m sure I wouldn’t know him,’ I say closing my eyes. If I stay quiet hopefully she’ll shut up.
‘I’m sure you would.’
I don’t answer.
‘Have you ever seen DreamBoat?’
Thump! The wheels hit the runway with a bang. The plane thunders down the runway with a roar.
‘Jesus, that was rough!’ Lydia exclaims. ‘I’m going to ask Mike what the hell he was thinking?’
‘That wasn’t Mike who landed,’ I say in a sort of dull voice. ‘It was the co-pilot. Lydia, I wonder can you excuse me for a minute? Just make sure the passengers stay in their seats until the “fasten seatbelt” sign has been switched off, ok?’
I stand up shakily as the plane zooms along.
Then I lock myself in the toilet cubicle.
And reach for a sick bag.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘Do you want to go into the airport to get some wine?’ Mike asks pleasantly.
I’m sitting down in the middle of the cabin, pretending to eat my crew meal and read the newspaper.
‘No thanks, I’m fine,’ I manage a weak smile.
‘I’ll go in with you,’ Lydia jumps up. ‘I can never have enough wine in my apartment. You never know who’s going to drop in,’ she chuckles. ‘Do you?’
Mike smiles politely and heads off. Alan the co-pilot tags along. I’m sure he doesn’t even drink but would rather wander around the airport than be stuck here gossiping with the girls.
‘Is that one wrecking your head?’ Tara asks me sympathetically, once they’ve gone.
‘Who Lydia? No, she’s fine,’ I lie.
‘I noticed she was drawn to the cockpit like a moth to a flame,’ Tania says. ‘I’d say she was driving the lads mad.’
‘Oh maybe they enjoy her company. I’m sure it gets a bit monotonous looking at the clouds all day and trying to get the last clue in the Irish Times crossword.’
The girls laugh in unison.
‘Anyway she’s just young,’ I say quietly. ‘And she’s going on a date tonight,’ I add. I don’t know why I’m telling them this because I actually feel numb. I think I’ve gone in to shock actually. My heart feels like it has been pierced with a sword, and my head is still reeling. I don’t think everything has quite sunk in yet.
‘Lucky guy,’ Tania says, her voice heavy with irony.
‘He’s the guy from DreamBoat apparently.’
‘Who?’
‘Adam Kirrane.’
‘No way!’ Tara almost drops her knife and fork.
‘Jesus, how did she get him?’ Tania is equally astounded.
‘I dunno. He probably just asked her out on a flight.’
I’m on a roll here. I can’t stop talking but I sound like a tape. I don’t even know where the words are coming from.
‘I wouldn’t say it’ll lead to anything though,’ Tania says eventually. ‘I mean, does she not know that somebody like that will eventually move onto bigger and better things?’
‘How do you mean?’ I look at her blankly.
‘Well he’s a big star, you know. He’ll probably end up with another star. Most of them do hook up with each other, don’t they? I mean, their lives are one big publicity stunt. They’re not like normal people.’
‘It’s true,’ Tara agrees. ‘I mean he’s hardly going to settle down with someone like Lydia. She’s a good-looking girl but sure what could she offer him?’
‘Yeah, it’ll just be a one night-stand,’ Tania adds.
‘By tomorrow he’ll be with someone else.’ Tara stands up and offers to pour me a cup of tea. I gratefully accept.
A cup of tea might help calm my nerves.
But realistically I could do with something stronger.
A lot stronger.
‘Apparently he has a bit of a reputation,’ I add milk to my tea, and lift my feet to let the cleaners hoover under my seat.
‘Who has?’
‘Adam Kirrane.’
‘Really? Are you serious? I never heard that.’
Tania looks at me quizzically.
‘Well, he wouldn’t ask us out because we’re engaged,’ Tara laughs. ‘I wouldn’t have said no though. I mean if I was still single, haha.’
‘So . . . you haven’t heard of him asking out any of the other girls?’
They both shake their heads and in a weird kind of way, I’m somewhat relieved. I mean for a minute there I just presumed that Adam asked out every single air hostess he ever spoke to. Well, come on, you’ve got to admit; there’s been a fair few of us. Sandy, Wendy, myself and now Lydia. Busy man eh?
The pilots and Lydia arrive back on board just as we’re clearing away our trays. Lydia is laughing hysterically at something Mike said. I doubt it was remotely funny.
I honestly don’t know how I’m going to work the flight home with Lydia without strangling her by her neat little navy and white scarf. I just want to curl up in a corner and cry myself to sleep.
‘Mike is an angel, isn’t he?’ Lydia preens into the mirror in the back galley, as she colours in her full lips with cherry-red lipstick.
‘I don’t know,’ I say quietly, ‘I don’t really know him.’
I wander up the aisle leaving Lydia to make the baggage announcement down the back. In a plumy over-the-top voice she warns passengers not to block the aisles while placing their luggage in the overhead lockers. I turn around to glare at her. There are only nine passengers on board so far and they are all sitting down. In fact the only person standing in the aisle is me
!
I keep myself busy by searching for a baby belt for a tiny tot. I then, in pigeon Italian explain to the mother how it works. To my delight she seems to understand me. Either that, or she’s just exceptionally polite.
Watching the baby with its huge brown innocent eyes, and his gorgeous adoring parents, I feel a little sad. Will I ever have this, I wonder? Will anyone ever love me enough to marry me? And will I ever get some little person to snuggle into me one day and call me Mummy?
Just as I think everybody is on board, Mike announces that we are waiting on two more passengers. Unfortunately they have checked their bags in, so for security reasons we can’t go anywhere until the bags are offloaded. Planes can’t fly with strange bags. Everyone knows that.
Hmm. Try telling that to passengers who arrive in Florida only to find out their bags have gone to Sydney instead!
I check my watch discreetly but don’t make a big fuss. No. It’s the passengers’ job to complain when we’re delayed, not ours. Of course we regularly get attacked when the plane is delayed for whatever reason. But we don’t mind. Hell, no. We have no lives ourselves of course. And find nothing more fun than being stuck on a plane with a lot of disgruntled passengers. Especially at three in the morning, in some foreign hellhole when the passengers, having had one or two too many, go completely ballistic. At times like that I start to seriously think about my life and think a nice nine-to-five office job mightn’t be so bad after all.
Oh here we go. Our late passengers stroll on cool as a breeze. Apologetic? You must be joking. They’re Irish too.
Laden with shopping bags (isn’t it well for some?) they look annoyed because they can’t find any space in the overhead lockers. You’d think that people who’ve just delayed a plane and its passengers would have the common decency to look mortified and take their seats as quickly as possible. Not this pair.
‘Excuse me?’ the woman beckons to me, using a condescending, overbearing accent.
I take a deep breath. Right. Okay. I am not a puppy at anybody’s beck and call and I’m going to tell these passengers to sit down immediately and strap themselves in.
As I approach mutual recognition sets in. Oh Jesus. My mouth goes suddenly dry. I thought I was having a bad day, but this is definitely taking the biscuit. The woman in question is Celeste-Jane Leddy, who was the biggest bitch in my school. Christ I haven’t seen her . . . well for years. Not since she got expelled for trying to set someone’s ponytail alight with a match. I never knew what became of her in the end.
She’s lost weight, I notice unhappily. A hell of a lot of weight. She’s very thin. But her features are sharp. And her eyes are a steely grey. Without a trace of warmth in them.
‘Well . . . hello,’ she says with a barely-concealed sneer. ‘Is this what you’re doing now?’
‘Hello Celeste,’ I say calmly, not failing to notice the enormous rock on her left hand. She’s married. Jesus, even that cow managed to get someone. And he’s not even ugly, dammit. At least if he were ugly I could console myself.
‘Yes, I am, it’s great. Now Celeste, I wonder if you could take your seat as quickly as possible, because we’re badly delayed as it is.’
She’s furious. Two bright pink spots appear on her razor-sharp cheekbones. She nevertheless obeys me. As she sits down she glances at my name badge. ‘Still Redden, I see’ she smiles icily.
‘Yes, too busy for love.’
‘Dear me, that’s what they all say. God, you career women, I just don’t get it at all. Now can you do something with all these shopping bags?’
I take them and strap them into an empty seat. I’d love to open them up and see what she’s bought. Just to see how the other half lives but I don’t. Because I’m miserable enough as it is.
Instead I go back to my seat. We’re ready for take-off.
‘Well, did they apologise?’ Lydia wants to know. She’s furious that the flight has been delayed. At this stage we’ve missed our slot time for take-off.
‘Who?’ I ask absently ’cos I’m barely listening to her.
‘Posh ‘n’ Becks’
‘Huh?’
‘The two with all the bags.’
‘Oh them? No of course they didn’t apologise. In fact it didn’t even occur to them that they’d put everyone out. At least it didn’t occur to her. I know her actually. Well knew her. She was in school with me.’
‘God, well she’s a lucky thing with your man. He’s a ride isn’t he? And obviously not short of a few bob. Mind you, she’s very pretty too, isn’t she?’
‘I don’t think she’s that great,’ I say and then regret sounding so spiteful. But when you dislike someone you never think they’re that good-looking, do you? At least you wouldn’t admit it. No. Not in a million years.
‘I’d love to marry a rich man,’ Lydia says suddenly. ‘A handsome rich man. The problem is though, that most handsome men aren’t rich and most rich men aren’t handsome.’
‘Well, maybe you’ll marry Adam Kirrane, and that’ll be the solution to all your problems.’
Lydia looks like someone’s just punched her in the gob. She turns to me with an astonished look on her face.
‘How do you know about me and him?’ she practically shrieks.
‘It’s easy,’ I say in a deadpan voice. ‘I’m psychic.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘And then he’ll bring you to his house,’ I say, staring at the palm of her hand. ‘And he’ll ask you do you want to go for a swim.’
‘Has he really got a swimming pool? How do you know all of this?’ Lydia asks suspiciously.
‘I told you, I’m psychic.’
‘Oh my God, this is so amazing. Can you tell if we’ll end up, you know, being serious?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ I say sombrely.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, I only ever tell people good things.’
‘Oh.’ Lydia clearly doesn’t like the sound of that. But no doubt she’ll just erase that bit from the reading. Most people only ever believe good things about their future anyway. You know yourself, when you read your horoscope and it’s bad you just convince yourself it’s a load of rubbish. Then you read a good one, and convince yourself it’s true.
In the middle of the reading a call bell sounds. I offer to attend to it. Lydia is devastated when I drop her hand. As I walk down the aisle, I notice that the call bell is above Celeste’s head. Shit. What does that weapon want now?
‘Hey sweetie,’ she practically coos at me. ‘I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour? Alistair and myself have just celebrated our first wedding anniversary and we were just wondering if there were any seats free in first class? It’d be such a treat for us both to be upgraded.’
I open my mouth to say something but am rendered speechless. I’m stunned by her cheek. I seriously am. Over the years, I have met many, many people I know on flights, and not one of them has ever asked for an upgrade. And this girl thinks I’m stupid enough to bring her up to first class just because she calls me sweetie. Well elephants may have superb memories but few can recall their schooldays quite as much as me. So I kneel down and say quietly, ‘Sweetie, you know I would have no problem upgrading you but Tania, the senior air hostess today is very strict, and I know she wouldn’t allow it. So I’m sorry about that. Really I’m very sorry.’
I give her my biggest smile as I stand up again and then walk away. The best things in life are free, they say, and luckily a smile costs nothing at all. And that’s all Celeste whatserface will be getting from me today. Sweetie, my arse.
Down in the back galley Lydia is having a panic attack. She explains that while pulling out the cart, one of the bread rolls fell off the tray and rolled onto the toilet floor. Somebody had left the door open. She’s horrified because normally there are lots of spare bread rolls provided. Today there aren’t. We have fifty-three bread rolls. And the same amount of passengers.
‘Which bread roll fell on the ground?’ I ask matte
r-of-factly.
‘I threw it in the bin.’
I walk to the bin and yank it out of its socket. I retrieve the bread roll, give it a quick wipe on my apron and place it back on the tray.
Lydia just stares in disbelief.
‘I’m just repaying an old friend,’ I say, placing the tray on top of the cart, lest I forget to give it to Celeste specifically.
I’m actually doing this for Emily. Emily was a rather fat girl I knew in school. She was even larger than I was. I haven’t seen her since I was a teenager so I don’t know what became of her. We struck up an odd sort of a friendship while queuing daily for the school tuck shop. Two unconfident, unhappy, lost schoolgirls looking for love in a secret world of Mars Bars and Twixes.
Celeste used to make Emily’s life hell. She once spat on a chair and made Emily sit down on it. Another time she whacked her across the back legs in a hockey game, claiming it to be an accident. I was too afraid to stand up for Emily because I thought if I did, my turn would be next. And when Emily had a nervous breakdown and then eventually changed schools, I lost contact with her. It haunted me for years afterwards that I’d never done anything to help.
‘Bon appetite,’ I hand the tray to Celeste. She’s smiling less now. And I’m smiling more. In fact my jaw is beginning to ache from all the grinning I’ve done on this flight. But it’s better than crying. Yes. If I started crying now I know I’d never stop.
‘I’ll have a red wine for me and one for my husband.’ She stresses the word ‘husband’. ‘Is that what you want darling?’
Hubby, at least, has the good grace to look suitably mortified. I give him a sympathetic kind of smile. God, for one who’s practically crying inside, I’m certainly doing a lot of smiling today.
When the service is over, I’m fit to collapse. I bring an Irish Independent down to the back galley to read. Hopefully it will help take my mind off things. And with any luck Adam’s photo won’t be in it again. I couldn’t bear to look at him now. Really I couldn’t.
I flick through my paper with Lydia hovering over me, trying to read it too. I’d like to roll it up and swat her with it. Like I would a fly.
Mile High Guy Page 19
