Chapter 21
It doesn’t matter what angle I look at myself in the lift mirror, it adds ten pounds.
Either that or I’ve still got the Boeing bloat from travelling in a pressurised metal tube for seven hours.
I’ve even decatered – crew talk for had a poo – but that hasn’t helped my bloat.
No crew member goes to the bathroom onboard for more than a pee.
Why people get excited about joining the mile high club is beyond me.
It would be like shagging in a sewer. The first thing crew do when we’re on our own after a flight is let out a series of farts from the trapped gas and pick our noses to get rid of the crusted bogies created by the dry cabin air.
Soumia is checking her make-up in the lift mirror. ‘Do you think we should have knocked on Sandra’s room?’
It’s only taken ninety minutes from leaving the aircraft to get to the hotel, have a shower, and head downstairs for arrival drinks.
I packed my running shoes in a moment of inspiration, the hangover from New York still haunting me.
‘One or two won't hurt. What’s the worst that can happen?’ Soumia’s tucking her white blouse into her light blue denim jeans.
‘Mpox, you might have forgotten but I’m scarred for life. I hope Jason behaves tonight – I can’t be arsed with his drama.’
I’ve concluded it’s not the mirror or the Boeing bloat – I’m just fat. I breathe in as the lift doors open, ready to walk out and let the public see a slightly trimmer version of myself.
‘We’ll sit at the opposite end of the table to him. Sod him anyway, poisonous queen. No one listens to him.’ Soumia is holding my hand and pulling me through the spacious hotel lobby. Her ginger locks are fanned by her brisk walk. ‘What are you drinking?’
‘Just a diet coke, please.’
Soumia lets go of my hand and heads to the bar.
I go and join the crew who have pushed two tables together.
There’s an ice bucket containing the carcass of a bottle of rosé.
Skerrow and McBride each have a pint in front of them.
They’re sat in their own little flight deck at one end of the table.
Danielle sits furthest away from them. She’s replaced her studded pearl earrings with great big silver hoops, so big a terrier could jump through them at Crufts.
Sandra is next to her; I can see the lipstick smeared on her teeth as she talks.
The two lovers, Nick and Dave, sit opposite.
Jason sits in the middle like the flight deck door, dividing the flight and cabin crew.
‘Callum.’ A voice I recognise shouts out from behind me. As I turn, arms fling around my waist as a figure staggers in for a greeting. I step back to regain my personal space and bring an intoxicated Alex into view.
‘Fuuuucckkkk. Were you on the flight today where the slide got blown and the crew member got arrested?’
She’s wearing a tight green Juicy Couture tracksuit with mayonnaise smeared down one side.
‘How do you know about that? And what the hell are you doing here?’
I’ve already figured out she’s on a night stop, but I’m trying to give myself some time to decide if I’m pleased to see her or not.
When Liam and I had been dating for a few months, I invited Alex over for drinks one evening to watch the launch of the new series of Strictly.
It was the first time she’d met Liam. I was always nervous of him meeting my friends.
Usually after meeting Liam my friends would start to disappear.
He’d find a reason not to like them: Holly was too loud, Leona too much fun, Paul not fun enough.
Eventually they’d fade out. No argument or animosity, but after I turned them down for nights out to stay at home and keep Liam happy, they stopped inviting me after a while.
Soumia was the only one who refused to be sidelined.
She’d arrive unannounced and fail to acknowledge Liam’s snide remarks about uninvited guests.
She’d simply ignore him and top up her wine.
This night was going well. Liam was laughing at all of Alex’s jokes, and they even danced around the coffee table together doing the samba.
I dared to think I had a friend he liked.
As soon as the front door was closed and Alex was on the other side, Liam looked at me and my stomach sank.
‘She drinks too much,’ he said, and with that Alex faded away from my Manchester life.
We reserved catchups for when our paths crossed down route.
We’d text each other every month on roster day to see if we could synchronise them and be in New York at the same time.
Then Liam walked out, and I began to fade out of Alex’s life. The monthly roster swaps stopped. I tried to keep in touch but would be met with one-word replies. I wondered if I’d offended her and sent a message to apologise for whatever I’d done that must have upset her.
‘I’m on a layover.’ Alex turns and waves to a gang of crew who are already showing signs of being well into happy hour. ‘Everyone knows about the slide. It’s all over Facebook, look.’
Alex types her passcode into her phone and takes a second to load up what she’s looking for. Soumia’s in the corner of my eye, still waiting to get served at the bar. ‘Crew member arrested in emergency escape horror.’
It’s not like the tabloids to exaggerate.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ I say, trying to defend Trev in his absence.
‘They’ll be in for tea and biscuits as soon as their sorry arse gets home. Imagine being that person.’ Alex raises a vape to her lips.
‘Babe, you can’t have that in here, they’ll chuck you out. I best get back to my crew, but we’ll chat later.’
I don’t have any intention of talking to her later, Alex’s crew will be fishing for titbits for their Galley FM. What makes a better headline than a crew member getting arrested from a rival airline, all the scandal and none of the fear of it being one of your own crew.
‘Fab, let’s do shots.’ Alex turns to her colleagues and shouts, ‘Tia, you coming for a cig, I need something stronger than this,’ then disappears in a cloud of vape out of the emergency exit.
I make my way over to my gang and pull up a couple of chairs. Skerrow smiles at me to acknowledge my presence.
‘Has anyone heard from Trev?’ I ask the table.
‘No,’ Skerrow says, concentrating on trying to make a beer mat, which is branded with a local lager, spin on its edge. ‘Head office are sending out a rep for him, they’ll be here in the morning. There’s nothing we can do.’
‘Should we not even try and see if he’s OK?’ I can’t stand the thought of him being on his own.
Crew should always stick together.
McBride answers. ‘There’s no point mate. We don’t know where he is, and they wouldn’t let us see him anyway. Have a drink and try not to think about it.’
Easier said than done.
I give a faint smile and head over to the bar to give Soumia a hand. She’s still waiting to be served from the barman who has two speeds: slow and slower. The bar isn’t busy, but he’s making a meal out of cutting lemons to put in a glass filled with ice.
‘You’ll never guess who’s here.’ I startle Soumia who’s staring at her phone.
‘Ivy Walsh?’ Her face is instantly haunted.
‘Worse. Alex. She’s on a night stop. She was already asking about Trev.’
‘It’s all online. There was no way of keeping that secret. Did she talk about you know who?’
‘You can say his name you know.’
Although I much prefer it if she didn’t and Soumia knows this. It’s an unwritten rule of ours to not mention he-who-left unless absolutely necessary.
‘Right, I’m getting you a vodka.’ Soumia is staring at the barman to summon him. ‘Vodka diet and vodka cranberry please.’
As Soumia orders, the lift doors open in the far corner of the hotel lobby.
A confident handsome man, whose side profile shows a slight bump to the nose, walks straight over to Captain Skerrow.
The man’s black polo neck jumper flexes over his biceps as he offers out his palm and shakes the hand of our captain.
I turn to the barman.
‘Doubles, make them doubles!’