Chapter 17
Service completed, we’ve got four hours to waste before the wheels touch the tarmac. The economy passengers didn’t kick up too much of a fuss over the missing cutlery, and most of them saw the funny side of eating peas one by one which they had to stab onto a drink stirrer.
Trev’s placing the money from the bar takings in note order. ‘I reckon we’ve made about thirty quid each so far. We’ll do another bar service before top of drop, squeeze a few more pounds out of them.’
The eight of us huddle together in the rear galley sitting on atlas boxes we’ve removed from the galley stowages.
‘Should we do the old clean and wipe trick on the tea and coffee?’ Danielle is filing her nails into sharp points, a lethal weapon when used against any disruptive passenger.
‘Yes, sod it,’ Trev says. ‘Two crew per cart on each aisle working from the back to front. One more on each side to clear in the rubbish as they go. Save the branded tea and coffee cups, give them a quick wipe, make sure there’s no lipstick marks on them, refill them with crew tea and coffee, then take back to the carts to resell. Three quid each.’
‘Excuse me, can I get two gin and tonics please?’ A middle-aged lady dressed in a pinstripe dress with a soft North American accent loiters at the side of the galley.
‘No problem,’ Nick says, just as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich. Egg mayo, I assume from the smell.
Dave jumps up too. Where Nick goes, Dave follows. Dave fetches two plastic glasses out of the dry stores then fishes in the ice bucket for a couple of pathetic cubes.
‘Fifteen sixty that, love.’ Trev’s got his hand outstretched.
‘Sir, has that gone up? I flew this flight last week and I’m sure it was cheaper?’
‘We’re low-cost love, they’ve got to make the money somehow. Go back to your seat and we’ll bring it up for you.’
The American disappears down the cabin, Nick and Dave follow.
Nick’s holding the bottles of gin and cans of tonic, Dave’s taking the glasses.
A one-man job if you use a tray. Dave’s clearly concerned that Nick might get lost among the 47 rows and have enough time to fall in love with someone else before finding his way back to the galley.
‘That’s another fiver for the kitty.’ Trev’s stuffing money into his wallet.
‘Did the mpox hurt?’ Danielle’s asking me, completely unaware that Mr Olly Barry and his business class smile have entered the galley and are standing behind her.
I look up at Olly awkwardly, offer half a smile before I glare at Danielle and raise my eyebrows to signal to her that we’re not alone.
‘How would I know Danielle? It was Nick that had it.’ I take the opportunity to deflect the conversation away from me, whilst also realising I’ve no doubt created a rumour that will be broadcast all over Galley FM in the coming weeks.
Olly’s a good 6ft2. He looks strong enough to throw me across a service cart and have his wicked way with me. I breathe in before I stand up.
‘Is everything OK, sir?’
‘Callum, just call me Olly. I pressed the call bell, but no one came. Any chance of another vodka and tomato?’
‘Of course, we’ll go to the front and make you one.’
Soumia puts her atlas box back into the stowage. ‘I’ll come with; I need to set up the second service anyway.’
‘Can you check on the flight deck for me while you’re up there?’ Trev asks.
Soumia nods. We follow Olly back to the front of the aircraft, passing Nick and Dave who have successfully completed their mission to deliver the American her drinks without getting lost or divorced.
Soumia’s walking in front of me and turns her head to talk quietly so that Olly can’t hear.
‘I could see you with someone like that.’
‘Are you forgetting what he did? I’m done with men.’
‘Even ones that look like that?’
‘Especially ones that look like that. We’ll be having sex and I’ll be wondering why this gorgeous hunk is fucking a man that looks like Moby Dick.’
‘Shut up. You’re handsome, babe. Ask him out. What have you got to lose?’
‘My pride.’
‘You lost that when the nurse was swabbing your arse.’ She turns to a passenger who’s tugged her apron to ask where abouts we are. ‘Somewhere between Manchester and Boston, madam.’ Soumia smiles and we carry on behind Olly to the front of the aircraft.
‘I think it’s safe to say he’s not interested in me,’ I say. ‘Besides, I don’t want someone who thinks it’s ok to treat people like that, it was a shitty move. He’s nothing but an F Boy.’
Soumia narrows her eyebrows at me. ‘Did you just make that term up?’
‘No, I’m totally down with the kids and ticky tockers.’ I’m not.
The three of us reach the forward galley.
‘Take a seat, sir,’ Sounia says, ‘Callum will bring you your drink in a second.’ She has a meddling twinkle in her eye.
‘Thank you,’ Olly says. Then lowering his voice, ‘And there’s no shame in having mpox.’
He returns to his seat just as I’m looking for an ejector button to catapult myself off this aircraft. Soumia’s laughing.
‘He’s totally into you.’ Soumia pours two glasses with water.
‘Then why didn’t he turn up?’
‘I don’t know, you’re like a stuck record. Why don’t you ask him? Besides, did you see his arse?’
We both treat ourselves to a peep at Olly’s behind as he makes his way to his seat.
I tilt my head to get a better view. ‘It’s a very nice arse.’
We both take a glass of water and swig them back in one go. Soumia tops us up. It’s one of the rules of crew: if you don’t want dry skin that’s as rough as a badger’s arse, then you must drink at least two litres of water for every four hours in the sky.
I put an empty beaker down in front of Soumia. ‘You best pour a glass for Trev.’
Soumia’s stopped what she’s doing and she’s looking at me with those beautiful, caring eyes. ‘You know you deserve someone who treats you well, don’t you babe?’
‘Can we not? Not now.’ I nudge past her in the tiny galley to reach for Olly’s order.
‘You can’t let what Liam did stop you from trusting someone else.’
‘It’s not about trust Soumia, I’ve promised myself I won't judge others because of what Liam did.’ I put the drinks on a tray.
‘What is it about then?’ Soumia sips her water, leaving a red lipstick mark on her glass.
‘Me. It’s about me. I’m not good enough.’