by Fay Keenan
‘Thanks,’ Florence ignored the suggestive tone in Aidan’s voice.
The two of them wandered up the High Street together, taking in the sights and sounds of Winterfest and smiling at some of the other members of the cast when they saw them out and enjoying the afternoon. Florence couldn’t help noticing Aidan’s eyes darting around, glancing in all of the spaces between the stalls and the way he seemed a little uneasy in this mass of tourists and locals all out at once on the High Street. Given what Sam had told her last weekend about Aidan’s experiences in Afghanistan, and his subsequent PTSD, she assumed that hyper vigilance was something he had to manage. Not wanting to draw attention to it, but also aware that as the crowd grew denser Aidan’s tension seemed to be rising, she paused in their walk together.
‘Shall we head back down to the Travellers’ Rest for a drink?’ she asked. The pub was at the bottom of the High Street, on the corner, and the two of them would be walking against the flow of people on the way down, but at least the crowd was thinning out a bit.
Aidan smiled at her, although she noticed his eyes flicking to the area behind her as he did. ‘That would be great.’ He turned swiftly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather biker’s jacket, and headed down the street. Florence caught up with him, matching his pace. She knew a little about the effects of PTSD from the training she’d done at school, as some students had the condition because of early-childhood experiences, and she could see how being in such a noisy, vibrant crowd might affect someone, if it suddenly became overwhelming. While she knew that this crowd, however alternative, was harmless, to Aidan it could well mean something different.
When they reached the doors of the pub, Florence was relieved to see that the bar itself wasn’t too busy, and they could easily find a table by the window. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked as they commandeered the table.
‘Let me,’ Aidan said. ‘What would you like?’
‘Just a Coke, please,’ Florence said. ‘I’ve got a few bits of marking to finish tonight if I’m going to play truant tomorrow and go and see the air ambulance base.’
‘Sam said he’d invited you down for the open day,’ Aidan said. He gave her a knowing look. ‘He didn’t bother mentioning it to any of the other cast.’
Florence blushed, remembering how she’d suggested to Sam that Josie might like to come down to Norton Magna with her. ‘I’m sure he would have done if he’d had the chance.’
Aidan smiled. ‘Right.’ He wandered off to the bar, seemingly more at ease now they were off the crowded High Street.
Florence pondered Aidan’s words; perhaps Sam really had only meant to invite her? Had she put his nose out of joint by suggesting she bring Josie with her? He was so difficult to read, unlike Aidan, who seemed to wear his emotions on the surface pretty much all the time. She had the feeling that he must always have been that way, even before what had happened in Helmand. He just had a more open way about him.
As Aidan returned with the drinks and sank onto the bench seat opposite her, Florence once again marvelled at how different the two brothers seemed. Aidan must have noticed her scrutiny, looking up from his drink and regarding her quizzically.
‘What’re you thinking?’ he asked.
Florence shook her head. ‘Sorry. I know it sounds bonkers, but I only found out that you and Sam were brothers yesterday. I guess I’m trying to look for the similarities, like I do when I teach siblings.’
Aidan grinned. ‘What did you think we were, then?’
Blushing, Florence recounted the conversation between herself and Sam, when she’d fessed up to thinking they were a couple.
‘Really?’ Aidan snorted with laughter. ‘I like to think I’d have better taste than him! I’ve seen the state he leaves the bathroom in!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Florence said without thinking, and then buried her face in her glass before Aidan could see her blushing.
‘Well, as I said, he’s not invited anyone down for an open day before, so I’d keep an eye on him if I were you.’
‘No comment,’ Florence said, once she’d recovered her equilibrium. She glanced up again at Aidan, who was now looking out of the pub’s large front window and onto the High Street. ‘Are you all right?’
Aidan nodded. ‘I assume Sam also filled you in on why he’s taken it upon himself to move in with me.’
‘He mentioned some of what happened to you, yes.’
Laughing slightly self-consciously, Aidan replied, ‘I’m not great in crowds these days.’ He was still watching the passers-by. ‘Sometimes it’s difficult to switch off that sense that there’s a threat around every corner, but equally I can’t spend my life staring at four walls at home.’
Florence’s heart went out to the man sitting opposite her. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,’ she said softly.
‘It’s getting easier, day by day,’ Aidan said. ‘Some days, like anything, are better than others. But I’ve not come out this afternoon to think about that.’ He visibly perked up again, and Florence followed his gaze and saw Tom Sanderson wandering past the window. She waved at him as he glanced in, and, in a moment or two, he’d come through the door and joined them at their table.
‘Hi,’ Tom said. ‘I’m so glad I saw you. I’ve had just about enough of traders trying to sell me recycled yak wool scarves and organic quinoa soup this afternoon.’
‘Better have a drink, then,’ Aidan said, glugging back the rest of his pint of cider. ‘Can I get you one?’
‘That would be great, thanks.’
Tom settled into the chair opposite Florence, but as Aidan gestured to her own glass, she shook her head. ‘I really should get back home and get some work done.’ Wriggling out from behind the table, she smiled at Tom. ‘I’ll see you at tomorrow’s rehearsal?’
‘Absolutely,’ Tom said. ‘I’m dog-sitting my parents’ Jack Russell this weekend, so I might have to bring him with me. The little bugger’s got a habit of chewing my shoes if I leave him alone and needs to walk about six miles a day!’
‘Sounds like my Great-Aunt Elsie’s dog,’ Florence said. ‘She always said little dogs had more stamina than big ones.’
‘No kidding,’ Tom rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve been taking him up Willowbury Hill, which seems to tire him out, thankfully.’
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ Florence said, as Aidan returned with the drinks for himself and Tom. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she added to Aidan by way of parting.
‘Enjoy tomorrow morning, if I don’t see you before,’ Aidan said.
‘I will.’
Wandering out of the pub and back onto the High Street, Florence glanced back through the window and saw Aidan and Tom chatting animatedly about the upcoming play. She felt a bit guilty about running out on them both, but since they seemed to be getting on fine without her, she soon got over it.
17
On Sunday, Florence felt her stomach flipping a little as she drove the twelve miles to the Somerset Air Ambulance base for the second of their twice-yearly open days. They usually held these days in early summer and then again in late autumn, as a way of raising awareness about the unit, as well as thanking those who continued to support them financially with their donations. As all of the air ambulances in the UK were completely charitably funded, these days were part of an ongoing campaign of public relations and were opportunities not just to raise awareness but also the funds to keep the show on the road, and the rotor blades turning. She hadn’t seen Sam since the previous Saturday’s rehearsal and coffee after, but he had texted her with the best time to turn up on Sunday. Josie had booked a weekend away with her husband which meant she wouldn’t be back in time to accompany Florence, but Florence hadn’t mentioned that in her text back to Sam.
Today was a beautiful late November day; the leaves on the trees were turning and falling, but the hills of Brent Knoll and Crook Peak were still a vibrant green in the sunlight. The sun was low in the sky, casting everything in a gold
en glow.
When Sam had suggested she come down to the open day to see what exactly his job involved, for a moment he’d looked endearingly shy. Her heart had melted at the thought of someone who had to be so in control, so authoritative in his job, feeling self-conscious or nervous about showing that to her. She figured he must really want to impress her, or at least to let her into his world.
And it was a world, she had to confess, that she knew nothing about, apart from having watched a couple of films and caught the end of a documentary called Emergency Helicopter Medics some years ago. ‘It’s not like it is in the movies!’ Sam had laughed when she’d admitted this to him over the coffee they’d shared the previous weekend. ‘We don’t fly flat out and burn fuel to the bottom of the tanks, just to look good!’ He’d virtually pissed himself laughing when she’d admitted that her favourite film as a kid had been that 1980s classic tale of arrogant US military flyboys, Top Gun. She hadn’t even been born when it had been released in the cinema, but her dad had loved it, and still did, she’d told him, so she’d ended up loving it too. The thought of Tom Cruise playing volleyball in a pair of tight Levi’s 501s still made her break out in a sweat, and the flight sequences took her breath away - to quote the title of the film’s signature song.
Oddly though, despite her love of Top Gun, she’d never really been one for flying. She’d been offered the chance to take a helicopter ride as an impressionable eight-year-old but had shaken her head, terrified at the prospect. Years later, she assumed it was because she was more frightened about the associations those huge military craft had. Helicopters in army green, to her child’s mind, took soldiers away from the people who loved them, and she was already heartbroken every time her father had to go away again. As an adult, she’d sat in a military Lynx helicopter that had been flown down for a country fair in the village where her parents lived, while a pilot friend of her father’s had talked her through the various controls and what it was they did, but she’d jumped out again without any inclination to actually fly. She could just about remember the basics of how they worked, all the same.
She was feeling an entirely different set of emotions as she drove up to the brand-new air ambulance base at Norton Magna this morning, though the nerves in the pit of her stomach were remarkably similar. Sam had advised her to get there early to avoid the crowds, as the prospect of a flight in the emergency helicopter was too good a chance to pass up for a lot of locals. It was bit like when the local multinational cider farm, Carter’s Cider, opened its doors to the public; people came from far and wide, as well as locally, to have a gawp at a place they wouldn’t usually get the inside track on, and a free glass of cider, of course.
Florence drove the long, broad road to the part of the airfield, almost at the back, where the SAA hangar resided. The site was open and flat, with acres of close-cropped green grass bisected from time to time by runways old and new. The sun shining down on this late-autumn day gave the grass a lush hue, and the hangar rose, slightly imposingly, out of the ground, with the iron doors in front opening out onto a tarmac area, where, Florence presumed, the helicopter took off from.
She parked the car and grabbed her jacket from the passenger seat, glad she’d brought her thicker winter one instead of just a light raincoat. The wind on the flat field of the base was whipping up her hair, but the overall sensation she got, much to her surprise, was one of incredible peace and tranquillity. The only sounds were a couple of crows cawing in the trees that lined the right-hand perimeter of the base, separating it off from the golf course on the other side and, above and slightly to the right of the hangar, a vintage Tiger Moth aircraft chugging through the cloudless blue sky.
As Florence wandered towards the rear of the hangar, she saw Sam heading in her direction. Her heart thumped in her chest when she saw him in the dark blue boiler suit with the SAA logo on its left-hand pocket.
‘Hey,’ Sam said as he, too, caught sight of her. He jogged over to her. ‘Glad you could make it.’
‘Me too,’ Florence replied. She drew in a quick breath as he leaned over and kissed her, rather shyly, on the cheek. Whether it was because his colleagues had just opened the doors and were milling around or he was genuinely nervous about her being here, on his turf, she wasn’t sure, but she was struck by the sweetness of the gesture.
‘Will Josie be joining you?’ Sam asked.
‘Er, no,’ Florence replied. ‘She’s away for the weekend.’ Was she imagining it, or did Sam’s smile get a little broader at the news she’d come alone?
‘I’m glad you managed to get here early,’ he continued as he led her across to the hangar where the operational helicopter was kept. ‘The crowds’ll be coming in soon, and I’ll be caught up answering my share of questions, as well as doing a couple of the flights in the spare aircraft.’
‘Sounds like it’s a good PR exercise,’ Florence remarked. ‘After all, apart from seeing you flying through the skies, I bet most people don’t really know the true extent of what you do for a living.’
‘It’s usually a good day,’ Sam replied. ‘This is my first autumn one, although I was around for the early summer one.’
‘You’ve got a lovely morning for it,’ Florence said, although she wrinkled her brow. ‘I assume it is, anyway.’ She glanced at the blue skies above.
‘It’s not bad,’ Sam replied. ‘Got to be mindful of the wind, but it should be OK once we get going. ‘Speaking of which…’ he trailed off tantalisingly.
‘What?’ Florence asked, pausing in her step as he did.
‘I need to give the helicopter the company brought down for the visitor flights a quick whiz around the base before the crowds arrive, make sure it’s all in working order. It’s an older model, the one we had before Leonardo upgraded us last year, and the company are paying for the fuel so we won’t be out of pocket. Do you fancy coming with me?’
Florence felt a flutter of nerves. Did she? Well, to be fair, she kind of figured she was going to get up into the air at some point today but had thought it would be alongside a few other visitors. Was she up for a solo flight with Sam? Her mouth made the decision before her head could step in. ‘Sure.’
‘Don’t panic,’ Sam laughed, obviously sensing her hesitation. ‘This is only going to be up, round and back down again. I know some people get a little nervous about flying.’
‘I’m OK,’ Florence said hastily, although in truth she wasn’t just nervous about the flight itself; she knew Sam was, obviously, a more than competent pilot. It was equally the thought of being alone in the helicopter with him. She fancied him more than she was prepared to admit, and adrenaline plus attraction was bound to equal passion. Was she ready for that?
‘Come on then,’ Sam said briskly; then his face softened as he saw her expression. He stopped and took her hand. ‘I’ll make sure you come back to the ground safely, I promise.’
‘I know,’ Florence nodded. ‘I trust you.’ The current from Sam’s touch seemed to fizz through her, and she was disappointed when he released her hand.
The two of them walked towards the large yellow helicopter that was standing on the runway, a safe distance away from where the operational air ambulance helicopter was based. Florence was stunned, up close, at how big the thing was. Stinging yellow in colour, to stand out against the sky in all weather, it looked state of the art, despite being the previous model.
As Sam opened the front door of the helicopter, Florence marvelled at the space it had. She stepped up and seated herself beside Sam, who’d scooted round to the other side and was explaining, as she settled, how to buckle up and release the harness, and where the emergency exits were. He also explained what to do in the event of an emergency, although this was accompanied by a reassuring and disarming smile.
‘OK,’ he said, and his voice sounded strangely disembodied in the ears of the headset she had also put on, under his watchful eye. These weren’t the audio-enabled helmets that were found in the operational helicopter, but r
ather a set of headphones and mouthpiece that she slipped on and adjusted to fit her head, much like a very expensive set of musical headphones. Sam gestured to the intercom cable hanging from the cockpit roof above her right shoulder and she clicked the wired jack into it. ‘Are you ready?’ His voice came to her again through the headphones.
‘As I’ll ever be.’ Her stomach turned over again as he turned his head towards her and nodded before turning his attention back to the instrument panel in front of him.
‘Norton Radio, Golf, Sierra, Alpha, Alpha, EC135, 2 POB. Charlie copied 1013 set, engine rotor start.’ Florence felt reassured by Sam’s voice in her ears.
Just as quickly, Air Traffic Control responded. ‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha, Charlie correct, start own discretion, 2 in the visual circuit.’
Florence glanced at Sam, glad that he, at least, understood the throwing around of acronyms, even if she didn’t. The language of flight was fascinating, and she felt like a tourist in a new place, drinking it all in but not completely understanding what was happening around her.
Sam ran through the pre-flight sequence. ‘Norton Radio, Golf, Alpha, Alpha, taxi runway 24.’
Florence took a deep breath as she felt the helicopter throb to life. She tried to focus on the feeling of the beat of the rotors through her body but felt her eyes being drawn back again and again to Sam. She watched his face, his hands as they busied themselves over switches and his eyes glanced at dials. His concentration seemed absolute, but at the last moment, he turned his head and smiled at her.
‘OK?’ he asked.
She nodded.
Air Traffic Control came back again over the radio. ‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha, taxi and line-up own discretion, no traffic to effect.’
‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha, taxi and line up 24,’ Sam replied. Still looking at her, he explained. ‘This is a non-urgent flight, so I’m just telling ATC that I’m going to ground taxi to the runway and line up.’