Chapter 27
Ivy Walsh:
Are you ok?
Callum:
We’re all good Ivy
04:56
Ivy Walsh:
Any injuries?
04:56
Callum:
Cuts and bruises but nothing serious
04:58
Ivy Walsh:
And the crew, everyone OK?
04:59
Callum:
A little shaken up. We all want to get home
05:01
Ivy Walsh:
None of you are flying back today. You all need look after each other
05:01
Callum:
Could you not have put us in a different hotel to the passengers?
05:02
Ivy Walsh:
Impossible, no hotel rooms at this time in the morning in Iceland
05:03
Callum:
Next time I’ll make sure we divert at an appropriate time into a bigger airport
05:04
Ivy Walsh:
Save your sass Callum
05:05
Callum:
The hotel is too expensive, we can’t even afford the water
05:06
Ivy Walsh:
I’ll email reception now and open a tab. Charge everything to the airline, even a drink, I bet you could all do with one
05:10
Callum:
We’d quite like our beds, if we can get a room
05:11
Ivy Walsh:
Don’t answer any questions from press and don’t put anything on social media
05:12
Callum:
You mean like the video I took of Jason screaming, ‘we’re all gonna die’
05:13
Ivy Walsh:
CALLUM!
05:13
Callum:
Understood boss
05:14
The atmosphere in the hotel lobby is as bleak as the late February weather outside.
Trying to book into a hotel room at 5am when you’re an uninvited and unexpected guest is not a smooth process.
Iceland is miserable. The wind from the Atlantic batters the island with no remorse.
The landing was violent. I’m still unsure whether we touched down or were shot down.
My legs have stopped shaking, but my hands still tremble, the adrenalin yet to wear off.
The hotel is in fact a guest house, manned this morning by a tall Icelandic teenager by the name of Sigureur, according to his name badge.
None of us try and pronounce it. The guesthouse is an ugly prefab building with all the welcoming allure of rabies.
We’ll need a tetanus shot when we leave.
Several passengers queue behind us for the keys to their room.
They’re the lucky ones; the rest are still at the airport waiting to find out where they’ll be sent.
Keflavik isn’t an operational base for Tiny World so we’re at the mercy of last-minute contractors to help us.
Skerrow is at the head of the queue. He ushers us all in to form a tight circle to make sure the passengers can’t overhear.
‘There aren’t enough rooms, we’re going to have to double/triple up.
Me and John will take one.’ It takes me a second to realise he’s talking about McBride.
‘Ladies, can you three share a family room?’ Soumia, Sandra and Danielle nod.
‘Nick, Dave and Jason?’ They all agree. Dave’s taken his position by Nick’s side, I have visions of him urinating around Nick to mark his territory.
‘Olly, Callum?’ I wait for Olly’s reaction; he’s waiting for mine.
We both give a single nod. I hold up my phone to show Skerrow the messages from Ivy.
‘Show everyone,’ he instructs, I do. Nods all round again.
The keys are handed out, and we’re asked if we want anything from the bar, an old shelf behind reception holding two bottles of dusty whisky and cans of mixer. I ask for three bottles of water, then hand one each to Olly and Soumia.
We follow Captain Skerrow in a line, resembling very tired soldiers returning from a lost battle, up a flight of stairs and onto a landing which leads to a corridor of doors.
Behind each one is a room where dreams of romantic get aways die and the reality of drab curtains and chipped furniture live.
I grab hold of Soumia’s arm before she vanishes through a doorway. ‘Are you ok?’ She nods. ‘Message me if you need anything.’
I can tell she’s exhausted.
Olly is holding the door open for me when I turn round. We give each other a half
smile.
‘Thanks,’ I say to him as I pull my trolley bag into the room.
The room resembles a cell. A double bed and a wooden armchair with no padding furnish the small space. The curtains are flapping in the breeze coming through the single pane window. There’s no tea making facilities – I consider it a hate crime.
‘You can have the bed if you want me to take the chair.’ Olly speaks quietly, respecting the early hours of the morning.
I can’t help but admire how gentlemanly he is, not assuming I’d want to dive into bed with him which, obviously, I do.
‘Don’t be silly, you’ll freeze. But do you mind if we jump straight in? It’s so cold.’ I start to get undressed. ‘I’m just going to have a quick shower; I need to scrub the aircraft off me.’
The bathroom is as battered as the rest of the hotel, it’s clean though and it’s got the little shampoos I like.
I turn the shower on. It doesn’t get hot.
If the water got any colder it would be a snow shower.
I jump in, get wet and jump out. My body tenses with the cold, the shock of it forcing strange noises out of my mouth.
I soap myself with complimentary shower gel, then jump back under to rinse.
The whole process takes me less than a minute.
I shake myself off like a dog, only less effective, then cover myself in a towel and run and jump under the duvet.
Olly is shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s deep in thought. I reach out and touch his back, it’s warm against my cold palm. He jumps up off the bed from the shock of my icy fingers. ‘Bugger me, you’re cold!’
‘Sorry. What’s wrong? You look miles away.’
Olly gets into bed in his boxer shorts. We both lay facing each other, one side of our faces buried slightly into a pillow. ‘I’m just trying to think if I could have done anything. If I missed something.’
‘Don’t even go there. It’s a rickety old aircraft that should have been condemned years ago.’ I reach under the bedding and offer him my hand. He takes it. His grip’s tight.
‘I should have paid closer attention on the walk around.’ He sounds defeated.
‘Checking door seals isn’t your job, it’s the cabin crews. Who’s ever heard of a whole door seal falling off in flight before?’
‘It wasn’t the crew’s fault.’
‘Exactly, and it’s not yours either.’ I stroke my fingers softly over his hand.
‘You look tired.’
I’ve no doubt he’s right and I can feel my eyes burning. ‘Gee thanks, you look awesome too.’ I smile to let him know I’m not offended.
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I know you didn’t, you’d have a thick ear if you did.’ I let go of his hand and playfully hit the side of his face not pressed into the pillow.
‘You know, you were pretty awesome up there.’ His arm has stretched around my waist. It’s strong, comforting.
‘Just doing my duty, sir.’ I give him a captain’s salute.
‘I’m serious. Thank you.’
He leans into me and gives me the softest and most tender kiss I think I’ve ever received. Gentle but fully charged. I feel every cliché that’s ever been spoken. I place one hand on his chest and feel its rise and fall. I return his kiss. We don’t speak any more, not with words.
He slips off his boxer shorts and kicks them off the bed from under the duvet.
I wiggle out of my towel and let it drop to the floor.
We let our bodies connect. It’s beautiful, intimate.
Kissing. Touching. Holding hands. Slow. Soft.
He twists to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Our bodies find their way back to each other.
He turns me around and places one arm under my pillow, his hand sticks out the other side, I hold onto it.
His free arm forms a protective cover around me.
We lay, my back to his chest, our breathing synchronised, and I fall into a beautiful, deep sleep.
When I wake, we’re still cuddling, only this time our roles have reversed and he’s little spoon. I kiss the back of his neck. He turns around to face me then kisses my nose.
‘Morning handsome,’ he says.
‘How long have you been awake?’ I’m still coming round to the world.
I’m in that gorgeous hazy place where you could easily drift back to sleep, but there’s a beautiful man in my bed and that makes me more alert than usual.
‘An hour, I think. I didn’t want to wake you.’
Could he get any cuter?
I roll onto my back and Olly wiggles over. He puts his head on my chest, I wrap my arms around him, my turn to be the protector.
‘Otto will be wondering where I am. I promised I’d go and see him today.’
‘He’ll understand.’
‘He has a routine and I’m part of it. I think it throws me out of sync more than it does him when I’m not there.
He’s resilient. What time is it?’ The clock on the bedside informs us it’s 09:23, we’ve only been asleep a few hours but we both seem much more alert and refreshed.
‘The time zone’s the same back home, isn’t it?
Can we facetime him? He’ll be making his breakfast, and I know he’d love to say hello. ’
So we do. Otto is everything Olly described and more. Joy pulses out of him and travels all the way across the North Sea and through Olly’s phone, brightening up the dull room.
‘Are you Olly’s new boyfriend?’ Otto asks.
There’s no denying they’re brothers. Their eyes mirror each other, and they both look down when they laugh like they don’t want to let other people in on their joke.
‘I’m Olly’s friend but we like each other, a lot.’
Olly turns his head to me. ‘Do we?’
I don’t know what to say. I’m suddenly embarrassed.
‘Come here, I’m just teasing.’ He gives me a quick kiss.
Otto isn’t impressed. ‘You two, get a room.’
‘Is Johnathan with you today?’ Olly asks.
‘No, but it’s OK, I can look after myself and he’s coming round later.’ Otto is gleaming down the phone whilst keeping one eye on the microwave.
‘What you making?’
‘Porridge, the best way to start the day. It keeps me full up until lunch.’
Olly and Otto have twin smiles. They glow in admiration for each other.
‘Are you watching the match tonight?’ Olly asks.
‘Yes. Do you like football, Callum?’
‘I do, but I’m a red I’m afraid,’ I say.
Quick as a flash he responds, ‘Well someone’s got to be.’
Olly laughs. ‘He’s got you there.’
The microwave pings.
‘I’ve got to go.’ Otto puts the phone down so the camera’s facing the ceiling. I hear the microwave door being opened.
‘I’m going to be home late Otto, I might not see you today, OK?’
‘OK.’
Will you text me when you get to work safe?’ Olly’s talking to the ceiling.
‘I always do,’ Otto shouts off camera.
‘And when you get home?’
‘Sure thing, brother.’
Otto’s response makes Olly and I laugh.
‘Love you, brother.’ Olly shouts.
Otto looks over the camera, his face so close to the screen we can only see his lips and mouth, the unexpectedness of it makes us laugh even more.
‘Love you too, Olly. Nice to meet you Callum, look after Olly for me.’ And with that, Otto disconnects the call.
‘You’re a big softie really, aren’t you?’ I say to Olly as he puts his phone on the side.
He seems lighter now he’s spoken to his brother.
He kisses me. ‘Don’t tell anyone or I’ll have to kill you.’
We’re face to face, snogging each other, only pausing to talk.
‘You didn’t finish telling me about you, Olly. When was your last relationship?’
‘A couple of years ago. We were only together a year, but it was intense. I think we were just two people who wanted to be in a relationship even though we didn’t like each other very much.
Took me a while to realise being with the wrong person is lonelier than being alone.
’ Olly squeezes my hand, punctuating his truth.
I kiss his crown. I understand. ‘When I boarded the flight in Manchester, I knew I had to kiss you.’
‘Is that so?’
It’s funny how an incident at 40,000ft can make you speak so honestly. Olly puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me onto his chest.
‘Lucky I boarded your flight,’ he says.
‘Lucky I saved your life.’