The Perfect Girlfriend(29)

I prepare some hot towels and pour several glasses of juice. I place them on a tray. My hands shake a little. I head towards the tail of the plane, once again negotiating limbs and debris, the most dangerous of which are always magazines – I’ve seen them send people flying. I use a key to unlock the door to the crew bunks, which I shut behind me – it’s not uncommon for passengers to make themselves at home if they gain access – and switch the lights on to dim as I hold the rail with one hand, clutching my tray in the other whilst negotiating the small staircase.

‘Morning, everyone,’ I say.

Some people shoot up, gather their belongings and head off to the toilets.

Others sit up, visibly exhausted and disorientated, clearly wishing they were at home, in their own beds.

Fifteen minutes later, I am lying on a top bunk, wearing a grey tracksuit and sliding around in a sleeping bag. My seat belt keeps slithering down towards my hips as I toss and turn, like a rag in a washing machine, as we hit turbulence. I feel as though I’m in some parallel, non-existent universe.

One thing is clear in my mind: I will be joining Nancy and Katie on a tour of the Grand Palace, after all.





10


After an hour, I give up on my three hours and twenty minutes break. I can’t bear it a moment longer, lying there, trapped. I’m going to go and suss Katie out. I need to see her with my own eyes to make an assessment.

I feel light-headed as I reapply my make-up in the toilet. At the beginning of the flight I looked presentable. Now I feel sick to my stomach. I knew Nate wouldn’t be celibate, of course. I’m not deluded. But to have a name, to be stuck mid-air with someone who is a potential rival, is a horrendous situation to find myself in.

I make my way to the front of the plane and upstairs to business class. The crew member – an older man – is in the small upper-deck galley preparing the breakfast trays.

‘Hi. I’m just going to pop into the flight deck,’ I say. ‘Do you want me to ask them if they need anything?’

He checks his watch. ‘Yeah, go ahead. They’re due a call.’

I know what times the flight crew are called during the flight, which is why I came up at this point. I pick up the interphone and key in the numbers for the flight deck. My heart is pounding at the thought of Katie’s voice answering the call, but she doesn’t. A male voice does. ‘Hi. Mike speaking.’

‘Hi, it’s Juliette from down the back here. I’m upstairs and just wanted to pop in to ask you something. Do you need anything?’

‘Hang on a minute.’

Muffled voices.

‘Yes, two coffees please. One white, one black, no sugars. And if you’ve got any crew sandwiches left, that would be good too, thanks.’

‘OK.’

I make the coffees. Which one is Katie’s? I slide out a tray of sandwiches from the crew trolley. I call again to announce my arrival.

I walk up the aisle and wait outside the cockpit door. The captain opens it and as soon as I enter, he closes it firmly behind me. The white, green and blue instrument lights judder brightly in the dimness of the enclosed area. In the FO’s seat there is a man. No Katie. The door to the pilot bunk area is shut; she must be asleep.

‘Is someone on their break?’ I say.

‘Yes.’

Damn.

The captain takes the tray from me. I remove the coffees and I place them in the space behind each seat.

‘I came to ask if it’s possible for me to sit here for landing?’ I say. ‘I’m fairly new and—’

‘Sorry, no, this is a training sector. James,’ he points to the first officer, ‘is preparing for his command – promotion to captain – so I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.’ James turns round and gives an apologetic wave.

‘Oh.’

‘Hopefully, you’ll get another opportunity soon – as, normally, I’d say yes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Thanks for the coffee.’ He peers through the spy hole whilst James checks the CCTV cameras. ‘All clear.’

He opens the door for me and I step back out, feeling deflated but not defeated.

On our journey to the hotel, I sit behind Katie, listening in to a conversation between her and the other first officer.

Her hair is plaited and pinned up – a personal dislike of mine.

Will used to love my hair in plaits. Well, he liked pulling them.

She looks nondescript.

Their conversation isn’t interesting – they mainly discuss cycling. I can’t imagine Nate on a bike. He wouldn’t look right in a cycling helmet.

He just wouldn’t.

Like most crew, Katie looks completely different out of uniform when we gather in reception the next morning. It is only Nancy, Katie, another guy – called Ajay – and me.

Katie has long, curly red hair and loads of freckles. She looks friendly, yet capable, the sort of person you’d ask for directions. She appears tomboyish, with her muscly upper arms and her sensible beige trousers, as though she is trying too hard to fit in with the male pilots. However, when she smiles her whole face becomes pretty.

At first, I wasn’t sure what Nate would see in her. But I think it’s because she looks so wholesome, so ‘girl next door’.

On board the tour bus, I look over at her again. She is gaping out the window, her mouth slightly open. We are stuck in traffic for ages, but I’m unable to engage in any useful conversation with Katie because an enthusiastic tour guide talks non-stop whilst standing at the front of the bus with a microphone.