Chapter 26
The crew have received special dispensation to fly home one crew member short. Soumia is working up as senior. Although she hasn’t done the training, Tiny World have found a magic loophole to get us home without Trev. Anything to save another delay.
Soumia has completed all the pre-flight paperwork and briefed us together in the forward cabin for the night flight back. She looks immaculate, unrecognisable from the person who sneaked out of a pilot’s room this morning.
‘Does anyone have any questions?’ She asks.
No one responds.
She puts her paperwork down. ‘Look, I know it’s not been the best trip but let’s just get home. At least nothing else can go wrong.’ There’s a silent recognition and understanding.
Jason is uncharacteristically quiet, his black eye talking for him. He told Danielle, who told Sandra, who told Soumia, who told me, that he went to Skerrow’s room last night and laid his cards on the table, demanding that he leaves his wife.
Jason’s been sleeping with Skerrow for the best past of two years.
He made up his love interest Rico to make Skerrow jealous.
Seems it didn’t work. Jason likes Skerrow far more than Skerrow likes him.
Skerrow said all the right words to Jason, I’ll leave my wife, I’ll tell everyone about us, and Jason believed it all.
You do when you’re in love. That was until last night when Jason found out Skerrow’s wife was pregnant – again.
The promise of a new life together fell apart like an economy class sandwich.
Knowing Jason, I imagine it was dramatic, throwing his demands all over Skerrow’s hotel room and threatening to ‘out’ him. No wonder Skerrow lamped him one – even though Jason said he walked into a door. Another captain who can’t keep it in his pants. We should be renamed Moral-Less Air.
Dave isn’t speaking to Nick. They’re sitting on opposite sides of the aisle; it’s the furthest Dave’s allowed them to be apart all year.
Nick was the one to lead us into the pool.
He refused to get out until the hotel manager caught him with a fishing net.
I only jumped in to take a piss was his defence to the suited man.
Danielle and Sandra are here in body but not in spirit. Hangovers written all over their make-up, or lack of it. Danielle has lost the orange ring which normally outlines her jaw; she’s unrecognisable three shades lighter.
Captain Skerrow and First Officer McBride join us from the flight deck. McBride briefs us; it doesn’t escape my attention that he chooses to stand next to Soumia. She keeps her eyes down on her clipboard and takes notes as McBride speaks.
‘It’s a long one back tonight, the winds are against us.
Eight and half hours home.’ There’s a collective groan.
‘Expect a few light bumps until we reach the cruising altitude, and the same when we’re descending into Manchester, but the rest of the flight should be smooth.
It’s a full house, no specials or babies.
Start the boarding ASAP and let’s get airborne and on our way. ’
As he turns to take his place in the right-hand seat up front, he lightly touches the bottom of Soumia’s back. She flinches.
Olly joins us. He’s wearing his engineers’ uniform now, white shirt with a black stripe on each shoulder, last two buttons undone revealing a white vest underneath. Black combats and heavy-duty boots complete the look. He looks the freshest out of all of us.
‘She’s all good to go.’ He taps the bulkhead to indicate the ageing bird has got the all clear to fly home. ‘I couldn’t fix your water boilers at the back, and the TV screen in the AFT cabin still isn’t working. I’ve differed them in the tech log. Physically though, she’s in good health.’
‘Thanks Olly.’ Soumia’s scribbling down changes on the paperwork. ‘Can I make some adjustments in the working positions. I’ll be at L1 now to take over Trev, Danielle can you go to L2 to replace me, and Jason can you go to L4 and replace Danielle. I’ll be at doors one on my own.’
Soumia’s plan is a safety conscious one, more passenger seats at the back mean more crew are needed there, but it also solves the problem of keeping Jason as far from the flight deck and Captain Skerrow as possible.
We all drag ourselves to our positions ready to board the passengers.
I’m at L2 with Danielle. There’s no banter between us as the passengers board, neither of us have the energy.
We do a good job of painting fake smiles on our faces and welcoming passengers, but if any of them looked closely enough, they’d see our smiles don’t reach our eyes.
Olly is sat back in 4E. The atmosphere from row 1 to 47 could be cut with a plastic knife.
Passengers fed and watered, Soumia turns down the cabin lights and turns up the heating.
The passengers fall asleep like a line of dominos as the hot air circulates.
Soumia and I are sat on the forward jump seat, the rest of the crew are down the back, no doubt trying to keep themselves awake reading trashy magazines. Soumia rests her head on my shoulder.
Olly draws back the galley curtain. ‘Do you mind if I make myself a coffee?’
Soumia lifts her head. ‘Go ahead, I’m going to go and check the toilets.’
Soumia opens an atlas box and removes a packet of toilet tissues then heads to the mid lavs.
Olly’s waving a cup at me. ‘Fancy that tea?’
There’s something about flying in the middle of the night that detaches you from life on the ground.
The trials and tribulations of life below are oblivious to you as you fly over the houses and streets 40,000ft above.
Each one contains its own story. Up here, the only thing that really matters is if you have enough vegetarian meals for those who forgot to pre-order.
It’s simplistic in the sky, choices are limited: chicken or beef, tea or coffee, take a chance on Olly or not.
‘Yes, go on then, milk, two jiggers, no sugar,’ I say.
Outside the tiny window of the aircraft door, the flashing red light on the tip of the aircraft wing blinks into the darkness.
‘Here you go.’ Olly passes me my tea inside two paper cups. ‘Can I sit?’
I pat the seat Soumia warmed up. We don’t speak at first. We’re more comfortable in each other’s silence than two people who’ve just met should be. I drop my head to rest on his shoulder.
He taps my leg gently with a bent finger to get my attention, I do the same back with my little finger to show I’m listening.
‘I really enjoyed last night with you,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry I left you waiting in the rain.’
I tilt my head at him. ‘We’re over that, don’t worry.’
‘I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than I have. I’d like you to meet Otto.’
He holds my knee again like the night before in the bar. The chemistry is still there. It’s not fully charged, but what is in the dead of night?
‘I’d like that too.’
‘I know you’ve been hurt, but I promise you, I’m not like him.’ Olly’s face is soft, like a concerned doctor when they’re delivering bad news.
‘I know that.’
I feel myself leaning into him.
‘Callum, can I – ’
He doesn’t get chance to finish his sentence.
A mist rushes through the cabin with a gale force wind that catches in our throats, making it difficult to breath, like when you put your head out of a car window at speed.
Simultaneously I’m deafened by a skull fracturing sound that interrupts Olly.
The whooshing of the wind fills my ears, whilst the temperature plummets to freezing.
Over the din in the cabin is the unmistakable sound of terror as passengers scream.
Olly’s chin is touching his chest, the colour from his face drained.
The oxygen masks release throughout the cabin.
I drop the cup of tea on the floor and hit Olly hard on the hand causing his cup to fall, the liquid flowing like a river around the circle patterns on the galley lino until it reaches the carpet of the cabin and begins to soak in.
I recall from training that hot drinks boil over in a decompression.
I pull on a mask that has dropped in front of me and yank it down sharply to start the flow of oxygen.
I put the yellow mask over my nose and mouth, holding it in place with one hand.
The elastic strap that dangles from is it torn.
I slide my harness over my shoulder in the crew seat and turn to Olly.
He's still looking at the mask. We’re at cruising altitude; he’s got about fifteen seconds of consciousness left.
I punch his shoulder hard to bring him out of his trance then push another yellow mask towards him.
He follows my lead and ties his band around his head to keep his mask in place.
Papers and magazines have taken flight and are working their way to the centre of the cabin.
I reach above me and turn the cabin lights to bright.
I’m shouting at the passengers as loud as I can, ‘Grab mask, sit down, hold on.’ I repeat myself over and over between gasps of oxygen from my mask.
The aircraft starts to descend steeply. I feel myself heavy in my chair as gravity does its job pulling the aircraft down to earth.
Half the passengers are still screaming whilst the others are silent, waiting for their next command.
Even the butchest men have fear across their faces.
‘Grab mask, sit down, hold on.’ I keep shouting not knowing if anyone can hear me over the sound of the air inside the cabin escaping into the night sky.
The faint voice of Captain Skerrow announces over the PA system, ‘Cabin Crew, Emergency Descent, Emergency Descent.’
Adrenalin is pumping through me, I can hear my own heart beating like a drum at a rock concert, but Skerrow’s voice reassures me.
I nudge Olly to get his attention but he’s already staring straight at me.
I smile at him and give him the thumbs up.
The moment is so ludicrous, so surreal, that I see him laugh under the mask, though I think that could also be the lack of oxygen.
My brain switches to crew mode. The flight crew have made an announcement, we’ve still got our pilots, neither of them have been sucked out of the window like BA flight 5390.
I’m looking around the cabin assessing the damage, a couple of overhead lockers have opened, bags have fallen out.
I can see the woman in 3D holding onto her head.
I scan the rest of my cabin, there’s spilt drinks, but the service has already been cleared in so there’s no hot drinks that could have caused scalds.
Soumia. I need to make sure she’s OK. My nearest portable oxygen bottle is in the cupboard in front of me. The green O2 symbol on the door gives its hiding place away. I reach forward and unlatch the cupboard; it swings open towards me as the aircraft descends nose first.
The bottle falls out of its cradle as I flip the clips on the bracket which holds it secure.
I nod at the second bottle and Olly understands he’s to copy me.
I wait for him to catch up before I take the next steps so he can follow.
Removing the top part of my harness I put the oxygen bottle’s carry strap over my shoulder and put one arm through the loop to wear it like a guitar.
I make sure the clock face of the bottle is facing me and the gauge is reading full. I check Olly’s.
I remove the bottle’s oxygen mask from the side pocket and untangle the tubing which connects to the valve.
I make sure the mask is connected to the hi-flow outlet then turn the tap of the bottle clockwise to release the oxygen.
Again, I check Olly over to make sure his oxygen is flowing and that he’s fitted the mask correctly.
There’s a smell of burning in the air from the chemical operated oxygen cylinders above the head of every passenger. The dust particles from them have set off the toilet smoke detectors, sounding a high pitch alarm throughout the cabin.
After what feels like hours, but has only been a matter of minutes, the aircraft levels off. Passengers who are sobbing will be the last I check on; I know they’re alive, the silent take priority.
Skerrow’s voice fills the cabin, it’s louder this time, ‘Emergency descent complete. Emergency descent complete. Will the senior cabin crew member come to the flight deck immediately.’
With that I spring out my crew seat, shout at Olly to check the toilets, then quick walk down the cabin as fast as I can to check on Soumia.
She’s doing the same in the opposite direction.
We hug each other in the middle of the aisle, then release, nod at each other, and understand we’ve got a job to do.