Chapter 18
I put the freshest piece of lemon I can find in a glass and deliver the vodka and tomato to Olly.
‘So, Callum, do you have a surname?’
‘Moore.’ I give a half smile.
‘I certainly wouldn’t mind more of Callum,’ he says.
I exaggerate an eye roll.
Olly pulls the most beautiful cheeky smile then puts his head in his hands in mock embarrassment. ‘That was really cringe, wasn’t it?’
‘I’ll let you off. I’ve got to, you’re in premium.’
‘Do you have enough down time in Boston for me to buy you a drink?’
I can’t shake the feeling of being left in the cold in Spinningfields.
‘Did Jason put you up to this?’
‘What? No. I’d just like to buy you a drink. Apologise. Explain.’
‘I’m really sorry, we’re not allowed to mix with the passengers.’ I realise I’m still breathing in.
‘How about when we’re back in Manchester?’
Olly’s a little less confident now. I imagine he’s not used to people turning him down. No normal person would.
‘I’m sorry, no, it’s the airlines’ rules. Can I get you anything else, sir?’
I figure it’s best to be formal in these circumstances.
Olly’s smile fades. ‘No, I’m good thanks.’
I feel like I’ve shot a puppy. I leave Olly behind and return to the galley just as Soumia is closing the flight deck door behind her.
‘They’re both fine. We’ve made up some time; we’re landing 30 minutes early. What did 4E say?’
‘He asked if he could buy me a drink in Boston.’ I release the brake on the trolley which is packed tight with afternoon tea for our premium paying passengers.
‘And?’ Soumia opens her side of the cart. Two scones fall onto the galley floor, she retrieves them, wipes them on her apron, then places them back on a plate.
‘I said no.’ I take out a teapot and pour in a large sachet of cheap coffee, enough to make thirty cups.
‘You need to give your head a shake. He’s bloody gorgeous.’
We set up the cart, putting tea and coffee pots on the top alongside two containers, one filled with milk jiggers and the other with sugar. We do it in unison, like a perfectly choreographed dance, both of us knowing each other’s next move.
‘I’m sure he’s lovely, but we know how this works.
I’ll get attached, send him a message and when he doesn’t respond straight away, I’ll end up hiding in his bushes to spy through his window to see if he’s with anyone else.
He’ll spot me and see how crazy I am and run for the hills.
In a few months’ time I’ll see him on an app.
I’ll spend the evening analysing if I should swipe right on him, then I’ll be crying into my pillow until he’s desperate enough to match with me again, and I’m desperate enough to give him yet another chance. ’
Soumia waves a napkin and a pen at me. ‘I’m not asking; I’m telling you, go and give him your number, or I will.’
‘No, leave it. Are you ready to do this service?’
Trev opens the galley curtain and reaches for a bottle of champagne.
‘Mile high drink anyone?’ He answers himself. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
‘We’re good, thanks. Flight crew are fine. There’s a glass of water there for you.’ Soumia’s taken her position on one side of the cart.
‘Water is for puffs, no offence,’ Trev says.
‘Just don’t be staggering off this aircraft when we land. I’ve already got one grown man to look after, I don’t need another.’ Soumia moves the glass of water closer to Trev.
Trev moves the water back to Soumia like they’re playing ping-pong with the glass.
‘Why, who are you looking after?’ Trev asks.
Soumia pinches my cheeks and wobbles them like I’m a child. ‘I’m always looking after this one.’
I feel my cheeks flush. ‘Come on, the tea and scones aren’t going to serve themselves.’
The trolley has a dodgy wheel. It’s going to take extra effort to not let it run over anyone’s toes.
‘Tea or coffee, madam?’ I ask 2A whilst Soumia looks after row one.
‘Coffee please,’ 2A responds.
I pour the foul-smelling liquid into a cup. ‘Have you not got your eye on anyone? There you go, one coffee. Any extra milk or sugar?’
‘No one at all,’ Soumia says as she hands over a dry scone to 1A. ‘Who would I be interested in?’
‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. Tea or coffee, sir?’
2B has his headphones in. I tap him on the shoulder, and he removes them, I repeat myself.
He looks livid that I’ve interrupted his viewing.
He puts his headphones back on and points at the coffee pot.
I fill a cup and place it on his tray. He doesn’t acknowledge me.
‘You’re welcome, sir,’ I say loud enough for him to hear me through his headset.
He doesn’t raise to the bait and instead makes a hand gesture to shoo me away.
I’m about to accidentally spill a glass of water on him and blame it on turbulence when Soumia pushes the cart into my stomach and makes me take two steps back.
‘Not worth it.’ She’s shaking her head at me.
I hate how she’s always right.
‘Tea or coffee, sir?’ 4A’s much nicer than 2B. He smiles and asks for a tea and a coffee for his wife. I smile back. ‘What about Captain Skerrow?’
I pour the drinks and carefully place them down on the tray table of Mrs 4B.
‘Are you mad? His wife has just given birth, plus he’d need to stand on the yellow pages to kiss me. There you go love, milk and sugar there for you, help yourself.’
‘As if having a family has ever stopped a pilot. Scone?’ I offer 4C on the opposite side of the aisle.
‘I thought he had a thing with Jason? Milk and sugar?’
‘That’s just rumours, Jason probably started it himself. He was going on about some lad called Rico this morning. Pardon sir? Your scone’s frozen? Well give it a few minutes to defrost.’
‘I’m not interested in Skerrow or any other pilot.’
We complete the service and start the clear in.
I purposefully pull the cart past Olly, forcing Soumia to serve him.
I can’t hear what they’re discussing in their hushed tones.
Soumia has crouched down next to his seat to be on his eye level and keep whatever she’s saying private.
Soumia’s animated, smiling, and dare I say, flirting.
Most of the scones come back untouched apart from a few bites. They’re that solid they could be used as a cricket ball, though they might smash the bat. We take the cart back to the galley.
‘Here.’ Soumia passes me a napkin, if you change your mind, Olly x, followed by eleven numbers written in blue ink.
‘So that’s what you were up to.’
‘Don’t be too quick to judge, we had a good chat. He’s a nice guy, call him.’
She waves the napkin at me; I take it from her and screw it up.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m not interested.’ I toss the napkin into the bin.
‘You’re a bloody fool, babe. He’s good looking and intelligent.’
A sound similar to nails being dragged down a blackboard echoes down the cabin as the PA system defibs itself back to life. It’s Trev.
‘Ladies and Gents, it’s time for your SkyShop service. All the items available can be found in your inflight magazine…’
‘Did he just burp?’ Soumia turns to me, eyebrows raised and lips pursed as Trev’s voice insults the cabin.
‘…We’ve got loads of offers onboard today.
Gents make sure you get your wife a perfume to apologise for getting up to no good whilst you’re away, it’s cheaper than a divorce.
And ladies, don’t worry about what he’ll say when you go home for spending too much money, he’s probably been at it with the nanny. ’
Soumia and I look at each other. ‘He’s pissed.’