Page 17 of Not in a Million Years

I thought of Daniel, towards the back of the plane, no doubt looking forward to the journey with pleasurable anticipation, and my heart hardened.

What the hell had possessed me to agree to this?

But it was too late to back out now. The cabin crew were taking their seats, and the aircraft was taxiing gently towards the runway.

And then it began. The roar of the engines, the sudden acceleration that pressed me against my seatback, the backwards tilt and upwards lift that left my stomach behind then sent it surging into my throat.

I. Must. Not. Puke.

I flicked on the in-flight entertainment and found the flight tracker, knowing that for the next four hours I wouldn’t be able to focus on a movie or a book, only on the little white aircraft icon making its way across the English Channel and then onwards, slowly and inexorably, towards our destination.

So long as the pilot didn’t take it into his head to crash it into a mountain. So long as the engine didn’t fail. So long as a passenger – quite possibly me – didn’t cause a disturbance that would require it to be rerouted.

I sipped my water, my ears straining to hear the welcome rattle of the drinks trolley. I wasn’t hungry and I knew that alcohol on flights was a Bad Idea, but I didn’t care. Anything at all that would make this time pass more quickly was fair game as far as I was concerned.

I drank a gin and tonic and ate my chicken, rice and salad without enthusiasm, my throat almost too dry to swallow. I watched the aircraft icon on the screen crawling across Belgium like a fly walking over a windowpane, seeking a route out to freedom.

And then the fasten-seat-belt sign flashed red, with an accompanying bong.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the tannoy – something about clear-air turbulence and asking passengers to return to their seats.

I was already in my seat. I couldn’t have moved for anything.

The aircraft lurched and swayed, dropping through the air then steadying, one wing and then the other dipping then rising. I gripped the armrests, knowing perfectly well that when the pilot lost control and the entire craft dropped from the sky to land in a field of cabbages somewhere far, far below, before bursting into flames with everyone trapped inside, the armrests would be no help to me whatsoever.

Another lurch. Another stomach-churning drop. More swaying. Then things steadied a bit and I tried to force myself to breathe. And then the aircraft plummeted again. I had no idea how far it fell – probably only a matter of a few feet. But it felt terrifying – like dropping off a cliff. My breath rasped in my throat – I needed water, but I couldn’t let go of the armrest to reach for my bottle.

I could only wait and endure.

Somewhere behind me, I could hear a frightened toddler screaming, ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ and it was literally all I could do not to join in.

Eventually, after some fifteen minutes that felt like an eternity, the plane steadied again and then the seat-belt sign flicked off. Slowly, I released my grip and drank some water. The little icon on my screen showed that we had crossed the Alps – the worst must, surely, now be over.

It was and it wasn’t. Even if there was no more turbulence, there was still two hours to endure – two hours of fearing that it would all start again: the rocking, the plummeting, the trying not to scream. I couldn’t do this – not alone, anyway.

Unsteadily, I got to my feet and walked towards the back of the aircraft, brushing aside the curtain that separated business class from economy. Daniel was near the front, behind a woman with a baby on her lap, with an empty seat next to him. He was lounging back in his chair, his eyes half closed, headphones in his ears, a relaxed half-smile on his face. When he noticed me, his eyes snapped open.

‘Ah, come to slum it with the plebs?’ he asked mockingly.

‘Something like that. Is this seat taken?’

He shook his head and I slipped in, fastening the seat belt immediately.

He looked at me more seriously now. ‘Kate, are you okay? You look a bit weird.’

I forced a smile. ‘I don’t love flying, if I’m honest.’

‘It got a bit bumpy back there, didn’t it?’

‘Bumpy? The fucking thing was going to fall out of the sky.’

‘Kate, it really, really wasn’t. You know when an aircraft last crashed as a result of turbulence?’

I shook my head. ‘Week ago? Two?’

‘More than fifty years ago. Airline safety has improved massively since then. You were in more danger in your cab on the way to the airport than you are now.’

‘I got the train, but that’s not the point. It might be safe in theory, but if something happens you’re still… well, high. Until you aren’t, obviously.’

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