The Captain and the Best Man

by Catherine Curzon

  In fact, he couldn’t even see the seat in front.

  This was how to travel.

  Overhead, a speaker buzzed into action and Josh took a sip from his glass, already quite used to this new way of life.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard what I hope will be a very comfortable British Airways flight to Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe.”

  Josh glanced up at the speaker above his seat. That sounded a lot like Guy. Pilots always spoke in that smooth, buttery way.

  Oh, Guy… The one who got away.

  Although Josh still had the soggy napkin wrapped protectively in another napkin in his bag.

  “It’s lovely to have you with us and you’ll be pleased to hear that the doors are closed, the tank’s full and it’s my birthday. Our marvelous cabin crew will demonstrate safety procedures aboard this triple seven—one of my favorites—and please do go easy on them. They’ve got a party to go to later.”

  Josh’s hand shook and he unsteadily put his glass down on the table. Birthday? A party? And that little quip about it being his favorite plane?

  It’s Guy. Guy’s flying the bloody plane.

  “In nine short hours we’ll be landing in Pointe-à-Pitre at three p.m. local time and the forecast is a gloriously sunny one. So sit back, relax and enjoy your flight.”

  Relax?

  Josh had to try very hard not to bound from his seat with glee. Maybe he could ask the flight attendant to take a note to the cockpit for him. Maybe he could—

  Surely this was how he’d ended up in first?

  It has to be.

  Guy must’ve seen Josh boarding and done whatever it is pilots did to move someone into the best seats in the house. A second chance!

  And a second chance complete with free champagne!

  Josh rummaged in his bag for a pen. Then the thought occurred to him that, as he was now in first, he could probably just ask for a pen and paper without having to send Guy a note scribbled on the back of an old bus ticket. He’d wait until they were in the air, and the next time one of the helpful attendants came by, he’d ask.

  Everything seemed so much smoother in first class, from the taxi to the take-off and everything else besides. The cabin was quiet and calm, what Josh imagined it must have been like to fly fifty years ago. It all seemed so glamorous from here, especially with Captain Guy on the flight deck.

  If only I’d paid more attention to his hands.

  Because then Josh could’ve imagined him holding the controls. All those lights and buttons and goodness knows what else, and Guy was master of them all. A shiver of delight ran through Josh. Guy wasn’t lost to him.

  He pulled the blanket up and snuggled comfortably. He’d just have a little nap. After all, he’d gotten up early, and the champagne and travel sickness pill had counteracted the effects of his latte. Although that said, not much had been left in his cup after it had been spilled.

  A lovely little nap, in first…then he’d write Guy a note and ask him for his number again…

  * * * *

  When Josh opened his eyes, he had the feeling that he’d been asleep for some time, but it was hard to know. He blinked at the map on the screen in front of him, showing the plane’s progress. They must’ve been in the air for ages. His mouth felt dry and he reached for his champagne. It wasn’t all that cool now, but…there was a piece of folded paper underneath it.

  Guy?

  Josh unfolded the paper and there, in that same immaculate handwriting, was a short note.

  How’s my driving? G. x

  Josh started to laugh, but clamped his hand over his mouth, keen not to annoy the other passengers by destroying the peace of first class.

  And a kiss, too. Josh pressed the note to his lips like a lovestruck teen. Then he hit the button for the flight attendant and waited. She was beside him in what seemed like seconds, still perfect, still smiling.

  “Sir?”

  “Could I possibly trouble you for some writing paper and a pen, please?” Josh smiled, even as he realized how ridiculous he sounded. He was flying first class across the Atlantic, not writing letters with a fountain pen on the Queen Mary.

  But if she thought it odd, she didn’t show it and within the minute there was the paper and pen, just as requested.

  Hope I wasn’t snoring, Josh wrote. He tapped the pen against his teeth, then continued.

  This is the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me. Never travelled first before! So comfy. Loads of space. Don’t suppose you’d still like to give me your number?? I lost yours in an unfortunate child-and-coffee disaster. No one was injured though! I’ll swap your number for mine. J x

  With painstaking care, Josh wrote his number at the bottom of the note, then folded it over and wrote across it, FAO CAPTAIN GUY. He summoned the flight attendant again.

  She took the note with a smile that suggested this wasn’t a surprise and disappeared along the cabin. Josh felt utterly calm, which might be the champagne and the travel sickness pill, but the second chance with Captain Guy didn’t hurt either.

  When the attendant returned she was still smiling and in her hand she held another folded piece of paper. She stooped to hand it to Josh and asked, “More champagne, sir?”

  “Yeah…wouldn’t mind.” His eye on the piece of paper, he asked, “Did I miss lunch, by the way?”

  “We’ll be serving in five minutes,” she said, glancing at the note for just a second. “I’ll fetch that champagne.”

  “Great!” Josh waited for her to head off to wherever they kept their endless supply of champagne, and opened Guy’s note.

  I hope the cinnamon bun survived the catastrophe! Your number is safely stowed in my terrifyingly efficient phone, away from coffee and children. Make the most of the bubbly! G xx

  Josh sighed with relief. Guy had left his number at the bottom of the note, so Josh took out his own phone—sensibly set to flight mode—and entered Guy’s number. He read the note several times over, enjoying the easy loops of Guy’s writing and hearing the words of the note in Guy’s smooth voice. And not just one kiss now but two.

  Then he wrote his reply.

  Your number now safe in my phone too. Maybe we can meet up while we’re both out in Guadeloupe? Might need to escape the wedding party one evening! And yes, the cinnamon bun survived. It was delicious, and maybe one day I’ll be able to get you another. J xx

  Lunch was unlike anything Josh had ever tasted on board on aircraft before. Washed down with champagne, the salmon pasta he’d ordered tasted as good as any restaurant’s—better than some, in fact. The sauce was creamy and light, the salmon buttery and the bread served with it so fresh it might just have come out of the oven. The only thing that improved the experience was the sight of his fairy godmother approaching, another note in her hand.

  “From the flight deck,” was all she said as she placed it on the table and continued on her way.

  Escaping wedding parties is just one of my many uses! Let’s see if we can find cinnamon buns in Guadeloupe…or at least have fun trying. G xxx

  Three kisses now!

  Josh grinned as he wrote his reply.

  Lovely warm ones for breakfast? J xxx

  He tried to hide his yawn as he waved to the flight attendant.

  “Sorry for distracting the pilot,” Josh said as he passed her the note.

  “Captain Collingwood isn’t easily distracted,” she replied, with a rather saucy quirk of her perfectly shaped brows. Josh wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it seemed like a compliment of sorts. Three kisses, after all.

  Captain Collingwood.

  Perfect.

  Josh snuggled under his blanket again, Captain Collingwood repeating in his mind, curling through the darkness behind his eyelids as if Guy himself were writing his name there.

  His handsome pilot with three kisses.

  * * * *

  Josh awoke once the pain in his ears was too hard to ignore. He tried to get back to
sleep, but soon realized that his ears hurt because they couldn’t be far from landing. He sucked as hard as he could to make his ears pop.

  There was a hubbub aboard, people who had been previously quite happy in their seats getting up and fussing around. Josh yawned and folded up his blanket, then spotted another note.

  Nothing better after a midnight swim in the Caribbean. G xxxx

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’re about to begin our descent into Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, very slightly ahead of schedule. It’s five to three and it’s a beautiful day. On behalf of British Airways, thank you for flying with us today and if anyone knows where to find cinnamon buns in this part of the world, please make yourself known to a member of the crew. The seatbelt signs are now illuminated and my birthday cake’s waiting, so let’s get our feet on the ground. Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

  Josh put his seatbelt on, but imagined hands other than his on the buckle. The experienced, assured hands of Captain Collingwood.

  Outside, the perfect blue sea sparkled in the sun, and below he saw an island of dark green and bright, white sand. And flying them safely down through the air, his very own pilot and his four kisses.

  And the landing was smooth, just as he’d known it would be—just as everything was in Guy Collingwood’s hands, it seemed. There was no scramble for the exits in first class though, no running for the door, because they didn’t have to. They were first. And for today, Josh was one of them.

  He gathered his bags and made his way along the wide aisle to the door, where the flight crew had gathered. All were neat and unruffled, even after a nine-hour shift, and none was smiling more brightly than Josh’s fairy godmother. She acknowledged him with a little bob of her head as he passed and said politely, “Keep that number safe,” before she added, “Good afternoon.”

  “Thanks for looking after me, Teri.” With a wink, he added, “And please pass my compliments on to the pilot for a smooth flight.”

  “Consider it done!” She grinned.

  Josh breezed through immigration. He retrieved his suitcase and was out in the sunshine.

  Chapter Three

  His hotel was on the little island of St Sebastian. Josh tried not to laugh as he thought of all the classical artworks of the saint, his chest bared and the arrows stuck into him, quite incidental to the young man’s figure on display.

  He was collected with several other island guests first in a minibus then in a speedboat owned by the hotel. Josh ended up squashed in the stern behind a wall of suitcases. But he didn’t care a bit. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and happy for a long time.

  He trailed his fingers in the water as the motorboat bounced over the waves, spray showering up into the air around them like diamonds.

  As soon as he’d arrived in his room—in reality, not a room so much as a tiny house on stilts out on the beach—Josh dug out his phone and switched it on. He’d send Captain Guy a short text. Just to say he was on St Sebastian, and the wedding party weren’t around until tomorrow, and would he like to…if he wasn’t too busy…meet up? He knew Guy could be anywhere in Guadeloupe, but still. He wanted to show willing.

  Josh stabbed at the screen, then groaned in defeat.

  The bloody thing’s dead!

  Why hadn’t he shelled out to get the battery replaced?

  And he could see the charger now, still plugged in next to the kettle.

  In England.

  With a sigh, Josh threw his lifeless phone onto the bed. Tomorrow he could beg a charger from the happy couple. Tonight, he’d get to know his island paradise.

  * * * *

  No modern technology meant Josh decided to go for a swim. He dived into the inviting waves from his balcony and pulled himself through the water with powerful strokes. He was like a pirate, escaping from his ship.

  Josh didn’t want to go too far out, so he swam along the coastline. His hotel of little huts and the beach with its palm-leaf-roofed bars passed away from sight, and soon, once he’d taken the small risk of swimming around a low, rocky headland, he saw what seemed to be a private beach.

  Josh trod water, taking in the sight of a rather swish house—or was it a hotel?—that he could just about see between the palm trees. It was like his own room on steroids, the entire open front of the house swathed in long, gauzy drapes behind which lights burned. He could just hear music playing—jazz, but he wouldn’t hold that against the residents—and wondered if this was the sort of place where a man like Captain Guy Collingwood would stay.

  On his jolly.

  For his birthday.

  Josh was extremely tempted to swim up to the shore and take a look, pretending to be lost. But if it wasn’t Captain Guy, and was instead an infuriated tourist who didn’t take kindly to strange swimmers arriving on their beach, it might get a bit dicey.

  He swam a little closer to the shore, until his feet touched the bottom. Confident that no one could see, Josh whispered, “Just in case you’re here, Captain Guy—or wherever the heck you are—!”

  Josh kissed his hand and waved. Then, worrying now that maybe someone had seen, he swam back to his hut.

  * * * *

  Josh put on a pair of loose trousers and a dark blue linen shirt. He looked like he’d ram-raided Michael Palin’s wardrobe, but the man had style and knew how to dress for tropics. Although Josh wasn’t sure he’d wear a panama hat too.

  So he wandered off to get some dinner. He didn’t much fancy eating alone, but everyone seemed very friendly, and as he wandered barefoot across the beach, his sandals swinging from his hand, he saw one beach bar in particular that looked very friendly indeed.

  Music carried on the breeze over the sound of cheery conversation and what he could only describe as raucous laughter, but that wasn’t the sort of thing to put Josh off. Besides, what was a bit of rowdy fun compared to the tantalizing aroma of food that Josh could smell? His senses were assailed by a heady mix of spices and exotic scents, which combined to draw him closer to the lights of the beach bar. Everything seemed heightened here beneath the Caribbean moon and this evening he wasn’t part of the wedding party from England—he was just Josh, out adventuring on his own as he so rarely did at home.

  A smiling waiter passed him carrying a steaming platter of seafood, headed for one of the tables that were scattered across the sand, and Josh watched hungrily.

  This is the place, he decided. He’d have a private toast to Captain Collingwood’s birthday.

  As the waiter returned he gave Josh a friendly nod and paused to tell him, “Best bar on the island and the best cook in the Caribbean. If you don’t agree by the time we’ve fed you, it’s on the house! Come on, give us a try?”

  “Yeah, all right, then!” Josh said. “That seafood looks amazing. Is that the house special?”

  “It is tonight.” He laid his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Grab a table on the beach, or up at the bar if you’re in the party mood. What’re you drinking, my friend?”

  The sounds of partying and music in the bar were far too tempting to Josh, after spending most of his day alone. “I’m definitely in a party mood! What’s the local drink?”

  “Let me set you up with a glass of ti’ punch to get you started.” The man slapped his hand to Josh’s arm and they began to walk back toward the bar. “Let’s get you to a table and put a drink in your hand!”

  Josh laughed. “I’m on holiday—bring it on!”

  The bar was loud and busy, buzzing with life and energy. Josh absorbed the atmosphere in moments, and said, “Hi there! All right?” to everyone he bumped into. The place seemed to be a mixture of locals and holidaymakers, everyone out enjoying themselves. And Josh decided that he would too.

  The platter of food that landed in front of Josh was a banquet of fresh fish and vegetables, rich with aromatic spices. The party was spilling out onto the veranda now and Josh smiled as he heard raucous singing, some 80s hit or another. It was a world away from the forthcoming wedding of the
century at which he was best man.

  He took a mouthful of coconut rice and realized he’d never tasted anything quite like it before. And certainly not in a place like this. The only way it could’ve been better was if Guy had been there too.

  If only I’d remembered my bloody phone charger…

  As the thought entered his head, a woman broke away from the party. She held a bottle of beer in the air, her floaty red dress swishing around her as she pirouetted with the music. She stumbled against Josh’s table and, with a hoot of merriment, turned to say in a broad Yorkshire accent, “Sorry, mate!”

  At least now Josh didn’t have a precious napkin that would be ruined by a jolt against his table.

  He looked up and said, “It’s okay!” Then he realized he knew her. “You look different—Teri, isn’t it? Off the plane!”

  “Oh my God!” The flight attendant was no longer immaculate, but quite the opposite. Her face was free of makeup, her hair hanging in unkempt curls about her shoulders. “Floppy fringe Josh!”

  Teri blushed immediately, as though she’d said something she shouldn’t. “You didn’t message back! Guy didn’t invite you so you could sit on your lonesome!”

  Josh tried and failed to sweep his fringe back from his face. “Did he text me? My phone’s been off—the thing’s dead and I can’t charge it. Is he here? Guy? Is this his party?”

  “Don’t worry about the fringe.” Teri laughed. “It’s just—Guy asked me to look out for you to upgrade you.” She did a rather passable impersonation of the pilot. “His name’s Josh, you can’t miss him. He’s got a fringe like a poet.” Her bottle met his glass with a chink. “This is Captain Collingwood’s do and you’re invited!”