Chapter 30
30
Flying club turns out to be even more bleak than I feared. Any hopes I might have harboured about there maybe being a clubhouse or somewhere that I could go to escape the biting cold are dashed; it’s literally a field with a load of cars parked at one end and a gaggle of people and various model aircraft at the other. There isn’t even a van selling hot drinks.
‘I’ve brought a thermos of coffee,’ Will tells me, correctly picking up on my facial expression. ‘Just let me know when you need some.’
‘Thanks.’ Although there’s no wind to speak of, the cold air seems to find its way under my coat within moments of me getting out of the car, and I shiver. So much for ‘warm but sexy’; I’m already wishing I’d gone for full-on thermals.
‘There’s Dad and Bernard,’ Will observes as we make our way towards the group at the other end of the field. ‘Let’s go and say hello.’
I’ve kind of got used to the size of Jonathan’s helicopter during Will’s and my visits to the workshop, but seeing it among the other remote-controlled aircraft here really brings home how massive it is again. It must be at least three times the size of the next largest, and most of the others look tiny in comparison. Jonathan and another man that I assume is Bernard are fussing over it, watched by a woman with a slightly bemused expression on her face.
‘I guess that’s Australian Audrey,’ I murmur to Will as we get closer.
‘Yup.’
None of them have noticed our approach, so I take the opportunity to study her. She’s pretty much as Will described. Unlike me, she seems to be dressed for the weather, in fleece-lined boots and a thick coat that reaches almost to the ground. Her dark hair is just visible below the Russian-style fur hat that I’m instantly envious of.
‘How’s it going?’ Will asks Jonathan once the initial greetings are over and we’ve all been introduced to each other.
‘Good, I think. We’re just waiting for the 3D flyers to finish and then we’ll see about starting her up,’ Jonathan tells him, indicating a man a short distance away.
‘Is that helicopter supposed to be doing that?’ I ask. I may not know anything about these things, but the machine currently in the sky is jerking around as if there’s something seriously wrong with it.
‘Yes,’ Bernard says in a disapproving tone. ‘Totally unrealistic and they fly like absolute idiots. I don’t get the attraction of it at all.’
‘I think I’d understand it more if they were flying some sort of recognisable pattern,’ Audrey remarks. ‘I mean, it’s definitely testing the limits of what the aircraft can do, but I’m not confident the pilots are in full control.’
‘Just you wait until Jonathan gets this baby in the air,’ Bernard tells her. ‘You’ll see some proper flying then. None of this stunt nonsense.’
‘Have you ever flown a helicopter, Audrey?’ Jonathan asks, lifting his head from whatever he’s doing.
‘No. I’ve been in them, obviously, but I’m not a fan of flying in something that seems permanently determined to kill you. I’ll stick to fixed wing, thank you very much.’
‘Audrey was telling me on the way over that she’s got a light aircraft back home,’ Jonathan tells us.
‘It’s not all mine,’ she corrects him. ‘I own a quarter share. It is fun though. A totally different way of flying from what I do for work.’ She turns to me and smiles. ‘I bought it with the settlement from my last divorce. My ex-husband was livid when he found out, which made it all the more rewarding.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘Because he was both unbelievably tight financially and a total control freak. I think he thought he’d be able to dictate how I spent what he still saw as his money. So when I blew pretty much the whole lot on something he thought was frivolous and a poor investment, it fried his tiny brain. I don’t think he’d have been any more cross if I’d bet it all on a horse race.’
‘He sounds delightful,’ Jonathan observes wryly.
‘He was, when we were dating,’ she tells him. ‘His true character didn’t come out until the wedding band went on. He started putting pressure on me to hand over control of my finances to him, and got quite cross when I told him I’d managed them quite happily myself for my entire adult life and didn’t see any need to change. When he finally realised he wasn’t going to win that argument, he got almost forensic about how much I was contributing to the bills and everything. It was like being a lodger in his house, except I was expected to have sex with him. I stuck it for two years before filing for divorce. Best decision I ever made.’
Will looks at me expectantly, obviously hoping that I’ll take this as an opportunity to probe her about her intentions towards Jonathan, but there’s no way I’m going to do that while he’s in earshot, so I gently shake my head at him.
‘Right, we’re on,’ Bernard announces and, sure enough, the guy with the jerky helicopter appears to have landed it. Now that I can see it clearly, it doesn’t even look like a helicopter; it has the rotors but, beyond the basic structures to hold it together, that’s it. Bernard’s face is a mask of disdain as we watch the owner pick it up and carry it to the side. Once the field is clear, Bernard and Jonathan carry mechanical Audrey out to the area evidently designated for take-offs and landings, setting her down carefully. Jonathan continues fiddling with the helicopter and remote-control unit as Bernard makes his way back to join us.
‘Is everything OK?’ I ask him. ‘Nothing seems to be happening.’
‘It’s fine,’ he assures me. ‘She’s not like the toys.’ Another disdainful look towards the man with the stunt helicopter. ‘He has to follow a precise start-up procedure. There’s an electric motor which spins the turbine up until it’s going fast enough for the second stage. Then it switches over to lighter fuel and continues spinning up until it gets to nineteen thousand revs, when he can switch it over to jet fuel. Only then is she ready to fly.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Audrey retorts. ‘Starting a real jet is less complicated than that.’
‘It’s a similar principle though, isn’t it?’ Bernard replies smugly. ‘You have to use the APU to spool the engines up before you can add the fuel.’
It’s clear that Bernard is eager to get into a detailed discussion with Audrey about the mechanics of jet engines and I’m mentally preparing myself to switch off, but she seems to have picked up on this and just smiles at him. Thankfully, before he can say anything more, we’re distracted by a whine coming from the helicopter.
‘Here we go,’ Bernard enthuses as the rotor blades accelerate up to a blur and Jonathan steps back. We all watch in silence as the helicopter twitches a couple of times before leaving the ground, and then a ripple of applause echoes round the field.
‘He’ll hover her while he checks everything’s OK, and then we’ll see how a helicopter should be flown,’ Bernard tells us.
Sure enough, after rising and falling a couple of times, and performing a full rotation in each direction, the helicopter suddenly shoots off down the field at a speed that catches me by surprise. At the end, it banks sharply to the left before climbing higher, crossing over us as it heads for the car park.
‘I told him it would be like riding a bike,’ Bernard remarks. ‘He was so anxious but look at the way he’s handling her. It’s like poetry. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, stunt boys.’
I may not know anything about it, but Jonathan does seem to be increasing in confidence as the helicopter swoops repeatedly over the field before turning sharply and heading off in different directions.
‘If that was real life, I think the pilots and passengers would all have vomited by now,’ Audrey observes as her namesake shoots over our heads once more. ‘A mate of mine is a stunt pilot and it was bad enough when he took me up.’
‘I don’t imagine your ex would approve of stunt flying either,’ I tell her, trying to find an opening now that Jonathan is out of earshot. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t take it up.’
She laughs. ‘That’s certainly true. I’ll think about it.’
‘Being a pilot makes dating difficult, doesn’t it?’ I remark, trying to sound like the thought has just occurred to me. ‘I went out with one for a while and you guys are almost never around. I’m surprised your ex didn’t have an issue with that, and I guess it gets in the way of meeting someone new.’
‘I don’t think it’s any worse than any job with irregular hours, is it?’ she replies. ‘My ex hated everything he wasn’t in control of, including my work, but I’m not worried about meeting anyone new.’ She smiles. ‘My dating days are firmly behind me. Don’t get me wrong, I like men and enjoy their company, but from now on they’ll only be mates.’ She turns to Will. ‘Your dad is quite safe.’
‘I never—’ he begins, but she cuts him off.
‘Of course you did. My boys would be just the same, don’t worry.’
I can’t tell whether Will is more embarrassed or relieved but, having fulfilled my task, my concern for him is rapidly being overtaken by the fact I’m not entirely sure I can still feel my feet. I stamp them a few times to try to wake them up but, beyond vague pins and needles in my toes, not much is happening.
‘Are you OK?’ Will asks. ‘Do you want some coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
My hands are also suffering, so I wrap them gratefully around the plastic cup of warm liquid that Will gives me, but even the hot coffee isn’t enough to stop the chill that I can feel taking hold of me. I wonder if it would be bad form if I asked to go and sit in the car for a bit? The problem is that nobody else appears to be suffering. Audrey, Bernard and Will are all happily watching the helicopter. Maybe he’ll land soon and I can make my excuses then.
It’s a further ten minutes that feel like hours before Jonathan finally brings the helicopter back to earth on the landing patch and another, more enthusiastic, round of applause comes from the spectators. I join in with the clapping, but my hands are so cold that it hurts. To my dismay, Bernard doesn’t immediately rush out to help Jonathan bring the helicopter back to where we’re standing.
‘He needs to let the engine cool for a couple of minutes before he can shut it down,’ Bernard explains to nobody in particular.
By the time Bernard and a jubilant Jonathan bring the helicopter back, it feels like my internal organs have frozen. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold and my teeth are chattering alarmingly.
‘Are you OK?’ Will asks, concern on his face.
‘Fine, j-just c-cold,’ I stammer.
‘She looks frozen,’ Audrey says, looking at me with alarm. ‘Will, take her to the car and warm her up before she gets hypothermia.’
‘It’s n-not that b-bad, honest,’ I splutter. Why won’t my teeth stop chattering?
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Will says firmly. ‘Come on. Let’s get you into the warm.’
‘I d-don’t want to ruin your d-dad’s special day,’ I protest as he begins to lead me towards the car park.
‘He won’t mind. He’ll be reliving every moment with boring Bernard until either the cows come home or Audrey stabs him to death with something.’
When we get to the car, Will starts the engine and puts the heater on full. I can tell this because the temperature knob is all the way round and the fan is running at top speed, but I can’t feel a thing. By the time we make it back to my flat in Tunbridge Wells, my teeth have at least stopped chattering but my backbone feels like it’s made out of ice, my legs have started trembling uncontrollably and I still don’t appear to have any sensation in my feet at all. To make matters worse, I stumble embarrassingly as I get out of the car; thankfully Will is standing right there and grabs me just before I face-plant onto the pavement.
The next mortifying moment follows hot on the heels of the last, as my defrosting hands are so tingly that they’re completely useless and I’m unable to reach into my jeans pocket to grip my keys.
‘Would you mind?’ I ask Will, pointing at my pocket.
What follows is possibly one of the most awkward moments of my life, and I’m almost grateful that my thighs are numb and I can’t feel where his hand is. He’s obviously feeling it too, as he yanks the keys out so fast you’d think something in there had bitten him.
‘You need a hot bath,’ he instructs as we go indoors.
‘No,’ I tell him, glad I’m not stuttering any more at least. ‘It sounds counter-intuitive, but I need to warm up slowly.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Hot water draws blood away from the heart and vital organs towards the skin. It can be fatal in hypothermia patients, not that I think I’m hypothermic. I’m just very, very cold.’
‘I’m sorry. I should have taken better care of you.’
‘I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have dressed more appropriately and been more aware of what was happening. I am supposed to be a nurse, after all.’
An uncomfortable silence descends as we climb the stairs and I point out which key to use to let us into the flat.
‘At least let me stay with you until you’re properly defrosted,’ he says once we’re inside. ‘It’s the least I feel I can do. I’ll only worry about you otherwise.’
‘I’m a big girl, Will. You don’t need to look after me.’
‘I know. I’d just be happier if I knew you were all right.’
I try to look at him sternly, but the concern on his face completely disarms me.
‘Fine,’ I tell him. ‘You can stay on one condition.’
‘Which is?’
‘Because it’s what you want to do, not because you feel guilty.’
He smiles. ‘Deal. What do I need to do?’
‘I’m going to climb into bed. Can you take my phone and call Mike to find his hot chocolate recipe? Wrapping up with hot drinks and chocolate is the best way to deal with this, and that ticks all the boxes.’
He looks alarmed. ‘Where is your phone? It’s not…’ He glances at my other jeans pocket.
‘Relax. It’s in my coat.’ I reach for the zip to undo it, but my hands are still refusing to cooperate.
‘Let me,’ Will says, stepping forward and gently unfastening it. Thankfully, this feels a lot less intimate than him rummaging in my trouser pockets, and we manage it without further awkwardness.
‘Are you warm?’ I ask him as he puts in the unlock code I give him and looks up Mike’s number.
‘Well, I’m not as cold as you, that’s for sure.’
‘Good. This is going to sound weird, so please don’t take it the wrong way.’
‘Go on.’
‘Once you’ve made us hot chocolate, would you come and join me under the duvet? Your body heat will help warm me up.’
‘Umm, I guess so.’ Will looks uncertain and I have to resist the urge to laugh as the reality of what I’m asking him to do hits home. I’ve dreamed of getting him into my bed for weeks. Now, I’m finally going to achieve it, but the only thing I’m interested in is using him as a hot-water bottle.