by Fay Keenan
The helicopter began to lift into a hover along the tarmac, and Florence’s heart flipped again as she felt the strange sensation of leaving the ground; there was no going back now. Her right hand clenched in her lap where, a moment ago, it had lain relaxed.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Sam glanced over at her again. ‘You look a little bit pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ Florence replied, hearing her own voice coming back to her over the comms.
‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha, ready for departure.’
‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha, no traffic to effect, take off pilot’s discretion,’ ATC responded.
‘Golf, Alpha, Alpha,’ Sam repeated. He looked across at Florence again, as if asking her for silent confirmation.
She nodded. This was it; she needed to trust him.
The helicopter tilted forward, building airspeed as it rose. There was a swift, exhilarating acceleration upwards as Sam squeezed the cyclic back, raising the nose of the helicopter slightly and making the aircraft climb away while still accelerating.
Florence almost forgot to breathe. The rush was like nothing else she’d ever felt.
‘Wow…’ she murmured. ‘This is… is…’
‘An English teacher, lost for words?’ Sam’s teasing tones seemed reassuringly normal after all of the technical phrases he’d been uttering for the past few minutes.
‘Ha, ha,’ Florence replied, turning to him and grinning. ‘But this really is something else, you know.’ It struck her, once they were in the air, just how peaceful and calm the flight felt. She knew the conditions were good, which must make a difference, but rather than the full-throttle acceleration and high-octane speed she was expecting, everything felt calm, slow, sedate, now they were in the air, as if the helicopter was a bumblebee in flight.
‘I know.’ He glanced at her and gave a heartbreakingly attractive smile. ‘Even after all those flight hours, it’s still almost the best feeling on earth.’
Florence saw, just for a moment, a deeper intensity burning in his eyes, and she felt her stomach disappear for entirely non-flying-related reasons. Her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth, down his body, snugly clad in his flight suit, to his hand on the collective lever to the left of him. This was a man completely at home in the air; it was his space, his territory. She felt a surge of desire, which fought with the nerves in her stomach caused by the flight, watching him handle this craft with such ease and expertise.
As they began to glide through the sky, turning in a long, lazy arc from the airfield, Florence saw the countryside beneath them, the vibrant green fields interspersed with houses and bisected by roads, all looking like some town planner’s model.
‘This can only be a quick one, I’m afraid,’ Sam said, and Florence was sure she didn’t miss the teasing undercurrent in his voice. ‘I’ve got to put down and make sure it’s ready for the slightly more crowded flights later.’ He turned to her again. ‘What are you thinking?’
Florence smiled. ‘That I’ve never been so exhilarated, and so terrified, in my life.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s such a strange feeling.’
‘It’s a bit like riding a bike,’ Sam said, grinning. ‘You’re connected to everything much more closely than in a fixed-wing aircraft, and the controls are much more intuitive. You kind of get used to it, but you should never take it for granted.’ He glanced at the controls in front of him and a look of mischief flickered over his face.
‘What are you up to?’ Florence asked.
‘Hold tight,’ Sam replied. He manipulated the helicopter into a hover, then worked with the yaw pedals until the aircraft slowly began to rotate on the spot, while remaining stationary in terms of height, like a dancer performing a pirouette.
Florence’s eyes followed the path of the nose of the helicopter, and she laughed. ‘That’s a good trick.’
Sam laughed, too. ‘I’m glad you approve.’ Steadying the aircraft, he pulled in the collective for a moment more, gaining a little more height before conducting another, wider turn so that they were facing back towards the runway. ‘We’ll have to leave it there, I’m afraid,’ he said as he gradually began to descend the helicopter towards the tarmac. ‘Unless you fancy coming back up as part of a crowd later.’
‘I think that’s about all I can take for one day,’ Florence said. She was impressed by Sam’s expertise but still couldn’t quite shake the nerves that surrounded flying for her.
‘No worries,’ Sam replied. ‘Besides, when I’m up here, I’m supposed to be all about the job – professional distance and all that. Difficult to maintain that when I keep wanting to look at you. Would be worse with a cabin full of extra passengers!’
Florence felt herself blushing; Sam had seemed so naturally reticent up to this point. Perhaps, with headsets on and in control of this aircraft, he felt a little freer to be more honest about his feelings. Whatever the reason, she glowed inside with pleasure.
As they neared the ground again, Sam began his landing exchange with Air Traffic Control, and in very little time he’d set the helicopter carefully down on the tarmac once more. Florence was surprised at how smooth the landing was, given that her only flying experience up until this point was on the budget airlines, when landings had been, a lot of the time, incredibly bumpy, especially on a windy day.
Sam went through the shutdown checks and Florence sat back in her seat, watching him ensure everything was safe and as it should be. She felt oddly content, just observing him paying attention to the details that guaranteed a safe finish to the flight. Again, she felt a bit like a stranger in a strange land, but she was instinctively reassured.
When it came to unbuckling the harness, her fingers fumbled with the mechanism and she found she couldn’t quite manage to do it. She jumped as Sam leaned over from his seat and undid it swiftly and easily. The touch of his hand, even through her clothes, sent a jolt of electricity through her.
‘Thanks,’ she breathed, spine tingling as he, very close to her now, looked her straight in the eyes.
‘No problem.’ Sam smiled. His lips hovered a little way away from hers and the pause seemed to go on forever. They drew a millimetre or two closer, and were within a heartbeat of a kiss, when the radio system crackled to life again.
Florence jumped, mentally kicking herself for it as Sam smiled ruefully.
‘That’s my cue to get off my arse and get this thing ready for the visitor flights later,’ he said, moving away again.
Florence wriggled out of the straps and waited for Sam to come round and open the door for her – she wasn’t sure what she should touch and what she shouldn’t. When he did so, she stepped down from the helicopter on legs that weren’t exactly wobbly just from the flight.
‘If you head back to the hangar, Hannah, our charity rep, is there to show you around,’ Sam said. ‘If you want to see the inside of the place, that is.’
‘I’d like that.’ Florence looked up at him, feeling like she was still pitching a bit from being up in the air. ‘Why do I feel like I’m never going to get my air legs?’
Sam laughed. ‘It takes time.’ He paused for a moment, then reached over and took her right hand in his. ‘But did you like it?’
‘I did,’ Florence breathed. She drew closer to Sam, who, unlike when he’d asked her to come to the open morning, now seemed injected with a whole lot more confidence and authority. She figured it was because he’d been in control in the sky, and he’d been showing her something he loved and was good at. She was sure he was standing a little straighter. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as she moved to within a hair’s breadth of him again, and her left hand snaked its way up his arm to his shoulder and then to the back of his neck. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me,’ she murmured as she tilted her face to his and, finally, their lips met.
The kiss was sweet, and his lips were a warm contrast to the breeze that was curling around them. As she gently explored Sam’s mouth with her own lips and tongue, Florence felt an incredible sense of
rightness; as if she’d been waiting for him, as if being in the air had unleashed some kind of passion that had been simmering under the surface ever since they’d been spending more time together.
‘Hey, Sam!’ A voice cut into this miraculous moment and Florence felt Sam jump in her arms and then gently disentangle himself from her. ‘Are you all sorted for the visitor flights?’ The man who was approaching him was dressed in vivid bright orange overalls, and, from his knowing smile, was someone Sam was well acquainted with.
‘It’s all as it should be,’ Sam replied, turning towards the man, his right hand still holding Florence’s. ‘Should be good to go when the first visitors come in.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ The man reached them and gave a broader grin. ‘I’m Darren Giles, one of the paramedics. You must be Florence, I assume?’
Florence smiled back. ‘That’s right. It’s nice to meet you.’ She wondered if she should be flattered that Sam had obviously mentioned her to his colleague.
‘Sam’s said you’re the lead in the play that’s raising funds for us,’ Darren continued. ‘Was this a bit of extra… rehearsal?’ He raised a suggestive eyebrow at them both.
‘Nah,’ Sam countered briskly, ‘I’m just the understudy, remember, Darren? What can we do for you?’
‘You’re needed in the hangar,’ Darren replied. ‘I said I’d have a scout around and see if I could find you. We’ve got some VIPs coming down today, so we all need to be on parade before things really get busy.’
‘OK,’ Sam replied. He turned to Florence. ‘See you later?’
‘I’ve got a rehearsal for the play this evening,’ Florence said regretfully. ‘Main cast only, I think. But shall I text you when I’m done?’
‘Definitely.’ Sam hesitated, that old reticence seeming to fall back into place in front of his colleague. Instead of kissing her again, he squeezed her hand, and then, checking briefly that both doors of the helicopter had locked again, set off behind Darren.
Florence spent a little longer just looking at the helicopter, now quiet and at rest. So much had happened in that short flight that she needed some time to think. She was quite relieved that Sam had been called away so abruptly; it would give her time to process it all, and get her bearings once again. Was this the start of something?
After a quick tour of the base, which left Florence much better acquainted with the operational processes of the Somerset Air Ambulance, she decided it was probably time to head back home. The base had moved its operations to the hangar floor for the morning so that they weren’t waylaid by visitors in the event of a callout, and even though this hadn’t happened yet, Florence was still very aware that a call could come in at any moment and it would be all systems go. The crew were used to going from callout to fully operational in five minutes and couldn’t afford for visitors to get in the way.
Making her way back to her car, Florence caught sight of Sam chatting to a few other people, obviously visitors of some note, who’d arrived while Hannah, the charity rep, had been giving her the tour of the base. She noticed the local member of parliament, Charlie Thorpe, tall and authoritative-looking, chatting to Sam, obviously asking him a lot of questions. By his side was his wife, who Florence had seen through the window of the ComIncense health and well-being shop. Her cascading dark red hair was tied back with a navy blue ribbon. Florence had also seen Charlie around Willowbury, and, much unlike what she’d have expected to hear about a politician in a reasonably wealthy West Country seat, it seemed that he was well liked and well respected. She vaguely remembered reading a newspaper article not so long ago about Charlie’s role in the campaign for cystic fibrosis drugs on the National Health Service for the seventy thousand patients in the UK, and she’d heard the head teacher’s PA at school speaking about him once or twice, as he seemed keen to come and visit and support the new school. As a teacher, she tended to be sceptical about politicians, but, to give Charlie Thorpe the benefit of the doubt, so far she’d only heard good things about him and his record in office.
Checking her watch, Florence realised that she’d better grab something to eat before she spent some time planning and marking for the next few days at school, and then went to the rehearsal. The performance was taking place the following Saturday, but Josie wanted to make sure everything was present and correct the weekend before so that there was no last-minute rushing around. All the tickets had been sold, and it was only now that Florence was beginning to feel nervous. After the kiss with Sam, as well, she felt her stomach fluttering with a few more butterflies that weren’t all brought on by the prospect of being on stage in less than a week’s time. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed that she wasn’t going to be playing Beatrice to his Benedick but had to put up with Tom instead. One thing she was certain about, though; after that blissful, but brief kiss just now, she definitely wanted to feel Sam’s lips on hers again.
18
That evening, all was going surprisingly well, and Florence found herself almost looking forward to the performance of Much Ado About Christmas, when the bomb, at least figuratively, dropped. She was just reading and rereading a few lines from the masked ball scene before the rehearsal was due to officially begin when her mobile pinged. Her brow furrowed as she pulled it out of the back of her jeans. Her face fell further when she read the message.
‘Shit!’ Florence’s uncharacteristic expletive made even Josie look up from the notes she was making on the script. Last-minute changes to lighting and some of the actors’ intonation were occupying her a little more than they should.
‘What is it?’ Josie asked. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘I’ve just had a text from Tom,’ Florence said. ‘He spent last night at Weston General Hospital having his ankle plastered. He put a foot down a rabbit hole and fractured his ankle when he was walking that bloody Jack Russell he’s been looking after.’
‘What the actual fuck?’ Josie nearly dropped her script. ‘You’re joking, right?’ As if on cue, her own phone pinged, with a carbon copy of the same message. ‘Well, that’s that then,’ Josie said as she scrolled down the text. ‘He says he’s going to be in plaster for at least six weeks.’
Florence’s heart sank. ‘So now what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Josie pushed back her unruly auburn curls from her forehead and took a sip of her coffee. ‘God, I wish this was something stronger.’ She grimaced. ‘We’ve sold every single ticket, and the press is coming to the dress rehearsal to take some publicity shots for the Stavenham and Willowbury Times. What bloody awful timing.’
‘Can we reschedule?’ Florence asked. ‘Shall I give the priory wardens a ring and see if the performance space is available in eight weeks’ time?’
‘I don’t think we can risk it,’ Josie said. ‘The rest of the cast has other commitments, and they’ve blocked their diaries out for this week. I know for a fact that George is off on a cruise with his wife at the end of January.’ George Stevens, a kindly retired bank manager, was playing Leonato and had provided the cast with several trays of exquisitely baked flapjacks to sustain them during the long winter rehearsals. ‘Not to mention, it’s a Christmas-themed adaptation – that’s not going to play well with the New Year blues!’
Florence slumped in her seat. She was gutted. Not just for Tom, who wouldn’t cope terribly well with being in plaster for six weeks, but also for herself. Since they’d cleared the air and come to an understanding, she and Tom had really cracked the roles of Beatrice and Benedick, and now they weren’t going to get the chance to showcase their work.
‘We do have one other option,’ Josie said, eyes sparkling with sudden enthusiasm.
‘Oh yes?’ Florence said warily. She’d quickly grown accustomed to Josie’s often misplaced enthusiasm for hare-brained solutions, even if some of her more out-of-the-box ideas did work occasionally.
‘Well, isn’t it obvious?’
Florence sighed. Josie’s love of drama, and not just the Shakespearean kind,
was also widely known. ‘Just tell me.’
‘It’s a no-brainer, really,’ Josie said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it straight away.’
‘Just spit it out, Josie.’
Josie’s eyes gleamed. ‘You and Sam have been hanging out a lot, haven’t you? Why don’t we just call him in? He is the understudy after all.’
Florence’s stomach lurched. ‘What? Sam? Don’t be daft.’ Hurriedly, she tried to think of reasons why that wouldn’t be the best idea. ‘I mean, OK, we’ve been getting on well lately, but we’ve not done any actual acting. He won’t have a clue about the blocking, the choreography… it’ll be a disaster.’ Not to mention their kiss this morning – acting alongside him might have been a nice fantasy after the kiss had happened, but it might also end up being horrendously awkward.
Josie cocked her head to one side and regarded Florence. ‘I think he’s our best shot for getting the play on, don’t you?’
‘Well, yeah,’ Florence conceded, ‘but will it actually work, putting him in one of the lead roles less than a week before the first performance? He’ll freak.’
‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ Josie’s tone was teasing, but there was a determined glint in her eye.
‘Wrong play,’ Florence muttered. ‘And he totally won’t go for it. We virtually railroaded him into agreeing to be understudy for Tom anyway. He’d never have expected to actually be onstage in a speaking role.’
‘Well, the least we can do is ask him’ Josie replied. ‘Have you got his number? I’ll give him a ring.’ Josie’s tone was her tried-and-tested ‘this will broker no disagreement’ that Florence had heard her use on a particularly recalcitrant Year 9 class when she’d observed her a couple of weeks ago. She pitied poor Sam, who was only seconds away from having this news broken to him.
Florence pulled out her mobile and was just checking through her contacts for Sam’s number when the door to the performance space opened. She nearly dropped her phone when Sam himself poked his head round the door, a smile on his face and a bag of custard doughnuts in his hands.