Natural Flights of the Human Mind

by Clare Morrall

  Oil is all over his face by now, and he can’t see anything. There’s nothing he can do. So this is how it feels to die. He’s glad it’s him and not Tony, who’s got all those children. It’s not so bad. Was it like this the last time he crashed, before he hit the train? If he survives, will he forget this too?

  His mind fixes on an image of Doody, standing in front of him, ferociously angry as ever, and it’s as if he can feed off her anger. There’s something wonderfully alive and urgent about her that nourishes him and makes him see himself in a way he’s never experienced before. The numbness of twenty-five years has melted, he realises, and Doody has brought him back to life. Just in time to die.

  ‘Do something, Straker!’ he hears, as he hits the sea. And it’s Doody’s voice, not Maggie’s.

  Chapter 29

  Doody wanted Straker to run, to escape from those vindictive people, and following him up the road in the direction of the field, she realises she must have known that he was going to end up flying her aeroplane. She whoops with pleasure as he picks up speed along the field, and the moment the wheels leave the ground feels like the moment she’s been waiting for all her life. She stands and watches him take off over the trees, the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. It wipes away all her years of frustration and nothingness.

  She shades her eyes with her hand and watches Straker head out to sea. She’s surrounded by this crowd of people, the relatives who’ve come to get him, but she doesn’t mind, because she’s not really here. She’s with him in the Tiger Moth, soaring into the sky. Everyone has gone quiet, and they stand together, gazing up, watching him gain speed and height.

  ‘Imogen,’ says an urgent voice at her side. She turns round and Tony is beside her, confused and dishevelled. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. He knocked me over.’

  She blinks, trying to see him more clearly after the glare of the sun. ‘Are you all right?’ she says.

  He nods. ‘Yes, it was nothing, really. He didn’t hit me very hard. But the Tiger Moth—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But all that work, all our time.’

  ‘I’ll pay you,’ she says. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t want money,’ he says. ‘It’s not about money.’

  She watches the speck of the Tiger Moth in the distance. ‘Of course not,’ she says.

  ‘Imogen.’ Jonathan is also standing beside her. ‘What’s going on?’ He’s wearing a maroon sweater, brand new, and sparkling white trainers. Imogen has never seen him out without a suit.

  ‘Jonathan! What’s happened to your clothes?’

  ‘I knew you shouldn’t have trusted Straker. Now look what’s happened.’ He’s still calm and controlled, but there’s a wildness in his eyes.

  ‘It’s insured,’ says Doody. ‘You insisted, remember?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asks again, indicating all the people round them.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ she says.

  ‘That’s obvious.’

  They can still hear the drone of the engine in the clear emptiness of the afternoon sky.

  ‘He’ll crash it,’ says Jonathan.

  She’s surprised by this. ‘No, he won’t.’ But then she realises that she hasn’t thought beyond this moment. What will he do? Will he come back here? If not, where will he go? ‘No,’ she says again, not sure if she believes herself. ‘He’ll just bring it back.’

  As the plane disappears from sight, the people round her lower their heads and start to talk to each other again.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ says a man in glasses. ‘I knew nothing would come of it.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ says someone else. ‘We confronted him. That’s what we came to do.’

  ‘Didn’t get us anywhere.’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ says Carmen, the woman in black. ‘He knows how we feel.’

  ‘Actually,’ says another, older woman, ‘I feel better.’

  ‘He said sorry.’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, he did. He shouted it lots of time before he took off.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have been able to hear that.’

  ‘I heard it.’

  ‘And me.’

  ‘You must have been lip-reading.’

  ‘Anyway, what else did we want from him?’

  They are all slightly bewildered, shaking their heads, as if they’ve woken up from a collective dream.

  ‘What do we do now?’ says someone.

  ‘Go home, I suppose.’

  The little Indian woman who was so ferocious with the eggs is sorting out her bag, muttering to herself in another language. She gets out a pocket mirror, and applies lipstick meticulously, calm and contented. She straightens her sari, brushes her hands down the silk, rearranges her shoes and smiles to herself.

  ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ she says, to no one in particular.

  ‘He’s coming back!’ shouts a voice from the back of the crowd. Everyone goes quiet again, and Doody can just hear the sound, the hesitant putter of the little engine in the distance.

  ‘There!’ shouts a voice, and they follow his pointing finger. A minute speck appears in the blue of the sky far out to sea.

  ‘See,’ she says to Jonathan, grinning uncontrollably. ‘I told you it would be all right.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point, is it?’ he says.

  What is the point? It seems as if they lost the idea of there being any point hours ago.

  ‘Well,’ says someone, ‘we can check with him again, can’t we? See if he’s really sorry.’

  ‘Of course he is. Why else would he come back?’

  ‘Scared he’ll crash.’

  ‘Yes,’ several voices are muttering, but it’s not clear what they’re agreeing with.

  The Tiger Moth gets closer. It looks painfully precarious, tiny and fragile, far too primitive to fly.

  ‘He’s in trouble,’ says Tony.

  A sharp pain stabs Doody’s chest. ‘What do you mean?’ she says.

  ‘Listen.’

  She concentrates very hard, and at first doesn’t notice anything unusual. Then there’s a faint cut in the sound of the engine, as if it’s stopping and starting again. Like a cough, a clearing of the throat. ‘What’s happening?’ Doody asks Tony, without taking her eyes off the aeroplane, fear making her voice sharp.

  He hesitates. ‘Don’t know. Could be something, could be nothing.’

  The Tiger Moth has nearly reached land, but just as Doody manages to breathe normally, it falters, pauses in the sky, coughs again, hesitates, and then there’s silence. It hangs there, motionless, like a seagull on a thermal, waiting for a breeze, hovering, uncertain. It starts to sink, gliding first, then faster and faster, dropping towards the sea.

  Biggles! thinks Doody. ‘No!’ she screams.

  Nobody else is saying anything. It feels as if she’s in a vacuum, just a shaft of light linking her to him, while everyone else round her fades into nothing.

  She can just hear Jonathan’s voice in the distance. ‘He’s coming down.’

  ‘Come on!’ She starts to run. They need a boat. He doesn’t have to drown. ‘Phone the police!’ she yells to Tony as she runs. ‘The coastguard, the helicopter-rescue service!’

  People are following, but she doesn’t care about them. Jonathan is beside her, struggling with his mobile phone. ‘Which way?’ she shouts. ‘Where’s he going to come down?’

  ‘Near the harbour, I think. He can’t be that far out.’

  It’s better if he comes down in the sea. There’s a better chance of survival than if he lands on something solid.

  Not good, crashing into the sea.

  But at least you survive.

  Depends if there are any rocks, how cold the sea is, whether he can swim, how long it takes for the rescue services to arrive…

  The sea can’t be that cold. It’s a sunny day, the sky is blue, this is not the North Sea.

  There m
ust be rocks. That’s why there’s a lighthouse.

  He’ll miss them. He has to.

  Doody races down the road to the harbour, faster than she’s ever run before, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. She can’t see the Tiger Moth any more. It must have crashed already. As they reach the harbour, other people from the village join them, wanting to know what’s going on. Groups of them stand between the upturned, beached boats, all looking out to sea, shading their eyes against the glare. The tide is up, and water is lapping against the side of the pier.

  They run along the pier, pushing through the crowds of spectators. ‘Get out of the way!’ Doody shrieks at them. They’re enjoying it. They want to witness a disaster.

  ‘There he is!’ says Tony, pointing.

  The Tiger Moth is a tangled, crumpled mass of wire, wood and fabric, awkwardly collapsed in on itself, hovering on the surface of the water. Even as they watch, parts are sinking below the surface. Doody can just distinguish a figure hanging on to a random strut of wood, and an enormous relief rushes through her. ‘He’s alive!’

  ‘Can he swim?’ says Jonathan.

  What a stupid question. ‘How would I know? I’ve never asked.’

  A large rowing-boat is moored at the side of the pier, with a bewildered boy sitting in it. He’s staring at the crowds of people in consternation.

  A young man has already climbed down the metal ladder and now he jumps into the boat. ‘What’s your name?’ he asks, with calm authority.

  ‘Connal.’

  ‘OK, Connal. I’m James Taverner. Can you row us out there?’

  Connal looks frightened and uncertain.

  Jonathan follows James into the boat.

  ‘Hey!’ says Connal, turning round in a panic.

  ‘Get moving,’ says Jonathan. ‘You can’t leave him there.’

  ‘Wait for me!’ Doody scrambles down to join them and the boat lurches alarmingly as she jumps in. Water laps over the side, soaking them all. Jonathan pulls her up beside him and she struggles into a sitting position. Gradually, the boat stabilises. Doody breathes in and out, afraid to move.

  ‘I can’t go,’ says Connal. ‘I’m waiting for my girlfriend.’

  ‘So you’d rather see someone drown?’ Doody shouts at him.

  ‘But she’ll think I’ve gone off without her.’

  ‘She’s got eyes. She can see what’s going on.’

  He still just sits there, like a child, stubborn and unmoving.

  ‘Get on with it!’ screams Doody. ‘He may not be able to swim.’

  ‘Wait!’ There’s a voice behind them and another person drops into the boat. They rock wildly again, and everyone grabs the sides in alarm.

  ‘Stop it!’ says Connal. ‘This is my boat.’

  ‘Will we be able to get one more in?’ asks Jonathan.

  ‘No!’ shouts Doody. ‘There won’t be room for Straker.’

  ‘That’s who I’m talking about.’

  At last Connal starts rowing.

  ‘Hurry,’ says Doody. ‘It’s sinking.’

  They move slowly and the boat feels heavy and cumbersome. From a distance, the water looked blue and calm, but in reality it’s very choppy, throwing them uncomfortably from side to side as they head into the waves. Doody clings to the side, trying to see where they’re going.

  The last person to jump in was Carmen. She sits rigidly on the back seat, white as a sheet, her eyes black and intense, refusing to look directly at anyone else, and there’s something frightening about her, a desperation, the single-mindedness that must have brought her here in the first place. James Taverner is more composed, his blue eyes steady as he sits easily in the front of the boat, turning every now and again to see where they are. He obviously knows about boats. He’s like Harry when Doody first knew him. Calm, confident, in control. Well, appearances can be deceptive. He’ll probably try to kill Straker as soon as they get near him.

  It’s difficult to tell if Straker is all right, although as they get nearer, they can distinguish the details of the wrecked aircraft. He’s still there, leaning over a wing, hanging on to a strut, while the rest of the Tiger Moth continues to sink. Can he swim? Wouldn’t he swim towards them if he could?

  ‘Can we go any faster?’ asks Jonathan.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ says Connal. ‘I’m doing all the work.’ There is something slow and laborious about him—an inexplicable lack of urgency, an inability to react with speed.

  ‘Do you want me to take over?’ says James Taverner.

  Connal scowls at him. ‘No.’

  ‘Let me know, then. I’m ready whenever you want me.’

  They’re nearly there.

  ‘Better be quick,’ says Jonathan. ‘If it all goes down, he might be sucked down with it.’ As if he knows about these things.

  Straker is staring around blindly, his face completely black.

  ‘He’s burnt,’ Doody cries, in a panic.

  ‘No,’ says James. ‘It’s oil.’

  ‘Oh.’ But she doesn’t feel relieved. Where has the oil come from?

  ‘Straker!’ shouts Jonathan. ‘Over here.’

  Straker turns towards them, but doesn’t seem able to respond.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ asks Doody.

  ‘Don’t know. He might be concussed, confused, hurt.’

  ‘I’ll get him,’ says James Taverner, calmly. He bends down and removes his trainers. Then he takes off his jacket, folds it neatly and puts it on top of his shoes. He stands up, balances himself against the rocking movement, and dives into the water. The boat almost submerges as he goes, then leaps up again.

  He slices through the water with an easy, competent crawl. Once he has reached the aeroplane, he holds the wing and persuades Straker to drop down into the water with him. Then he lies back, holds Straker under the chin and pulls him to the boat. It’s all very professional.

  As they approach, Jonathan leans over to help pull Straker in. He puts out a hand to grab the side, and suddenly Carmen comes to life.

  ‘No you don’t!’ she shrieks. She seizes an oar from Connal and waves it wildly through the air in an attempt to hit Straker on the head. It’s too big and she can’t manoeuvre it properly.

  Doody throws herself at her. ‘Stop it!’ she shouts, and tries to pull the oar from her. Carmen pushes her away. Jonathan is struggling to get Straker on board. James is warding off the oar. Carmen swings it round again, screaming all the time. ‘That’s for Robbie, and that, and that!’

  But she misses every time. Doody lunges at her and grabs her hair. The boat rolls to one side and she loses her grip as Carmen kicks her and scrabbles for the oar again. Doody grasps her legs and pulls her back, trying to contain her arms so she can’t reach the oar. The boat rolls even further on to its side and they’re tipped out into the sea.

  They go down together in a flurry of fighting, frantic, swirling arms and legs. Then Doody loses all contact with Carmen as she goes on sinking, distracted by a great roaring in her head. She can’t swim. She flaps her hands in panic and rises to the surface. As she comes out of the water she takes a huge breath to scream, but she goes back down again and the roaring in her ears is overwhelming. Gradually the sound subsides. She can feel herself falling and doesn’t know how to stop it. A curious calm starts to settle over her, and nothing matters very much any more…

  There is a pressure round her, resistance to her downward passage, strong arms pulling her. Someone has come to help.

  She breaks the surface again, gasping for air, retching, spitting out the water, and she is supported this time. She gradually becomes aware that it’s Jonathan. He pulls her to the boat, and more hands haul her in. She collapses on the bottom, coughing and choking.

  Someone else is beside her, coughing in the same way, and she realises it’s Carmen, no longer aggressive, limp and crying. ‘Robbie,’ she’s whimpering. ‘Robbie, Robbie…’

  In the end, Doody puts her arms round her and pats her gently, as if
she’s a child, both of them shivering with cold, squeezed into the tiny space between everyone else’s feet. Straker is at the back of the boat. James and Jonathan have climbed back in and Connal is observing everything in sullen bewilderment.

  ‘Look,’ says Jonathan.

  The aeroplane is sinking. The top wing settles below the surface and it’s only possible to see it in the dip between the waves. Then it tilts slightly, so the tip of the wing emerges again, points to the sky with a last moment of defiance before it sinks. Doody’s dreams have just submerged with it. Now there are other things that concern her more. She starts coughing again, spitting out more water.

  Jonathan looks wet, but unflustered and in control as if he does this sort of thing every day of his life. Straker is lying across the back seat, gasping for breath. One of his legs is bent backwards in an awkward position as if it’s broken.

  ‘Straker,’ says Doody, between coughs, ‘you weren’t meant to wreck the plane, you know. You weren’t even meant to fly it. When I said run, I meant run, not fly.’

  He tries to open his eyes and the whites appear before the oil starts to drip down into them. He closes them quickly.

  ‘I only wanted a short trip with my girlfriend,’ says Connal miserably, as he starts to row back to the shore. ‘I’m not really one for death and glory.’

  ‘Well, now you’re a hero,’ says James.

  As if to agree with him, a ragged cheer goes up from the shore. They can hear it rolling across the water towards them.

  Doody climbs on to a seat. ‘They didn’t want you dead after all, then,’ she says to Straker.

  ‘I’m not going to make my meeting,’ says Jonathan. ‘I might have known everything would go wrong.’

  ‘You never told me you’d learned to swim,’ says Doody.

  Carmen stirs in the bottom of the boat. ‘Can I sit up?’ she says.

  Doody studies her for a second. She looks different, subdued, as if a light has gone out inside her. ‘Depends if you’re going to try to kill him again.’

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘It’s finished. I had to try—for Robbie.’

  ‘Come on then.’ Doody helps to pull her up.