Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [6]
‘I don’t think the stewardesses like us,’ said Benny.
‘Why do you say that?’ Roz leaned into the aisle so she could hear what her friend was saying.
‘Well, did you see that one that just rushed by?’
Roz grinned. ‘The one that was blushing like a stop-light?’
‘Yes. Am I imagining things or did she give us the oddest look as she went past?’
‘I shouldn’t lose any sleep over it,’ said Roz. ‘Anyway, I don’t intend to.’ She moved away from Benny and settled back in her seat. ‘Wake me when we’re ready to land at Heathrow.’ She closed her eyes and in a moment her tall body had relaxed bonelessly and she was sound asleep in her uncomfortable airline seat.
Jessica sat in the stewardesses’ cubicle as the big jet rumbled through the sky, moving on its slow vector towards Heathrow in West London. In row C Jessica saw that the black woman was asleep. The white woman was staring across the aisle, watching her. It certainly wasn’t a look of love or passion or even affection. So much for the lesbian theory. But it was an odd look. Almost one of fear.
Jessica forgot about it, lost in thoughts of Roy and that moment at the airport.
She’d turned up for work that morning looking like death.
She hadn’t slept at all the night before, lying there in bed replaying the argument in her head. Her big gentle dog Scooter lay at the foot of the bed whining softly, sharing her sadness. The fragments of blue glass and the hundreds of tiny dry beans and pasta pieces still lay on the cold floor of the kitchen.
When the first pale rays of dawn showed in the bedroom window she forced herself to rise and clean up the mess. By the time she finished she just had time for a quick shower before she caught a taxi to Heathrow to start her shift. She was moving like an automaton. Everything was sluggish and slow. The world seemed colourless and dead. All the way to the airport she thought about Roy and how she’d never see him again.
He was waiting for her at the departure gate.
He was holding the biggest bunch of red roses she’d ever seen in her life.
He got down on his knees right there in front of the air crew, and asked her to marry him. Later, as she was rocking in the safety of his arms, feeling weightless, ignoring the third call from the cabin crew that it was time to go, Roy explained that this was why he’d been so tense, so unbearable to live with the last few days.
He’d made up his mind to propose to her but, to his astonishment, he’d found that he was paralysed with fear.
What if Jessica said no? The more he’d thought about it, the more the possibility had swelled in his mind until finally, instead of proposing, he’d ended up picking a fight.
Poor bloke. He’d been terrified. Jessica didn’t blame him.
It was a big decision. She felt a little terrified herself, but the feeling was more than outweighed by the delicious excitement Roy had sparked off in her stomach when she saw him waiting for her with the roses. He had taken her in his arms and said the words to her. And he’d bought a ring, in secret, a week ago. A simple platinum band. Now the roses were in the cargo hold, on ice, and the ring was on her finger.
Jessica looked up from her engagement ring and down the aisle of the plane. Fee, the Scottish girl, was coming back towards her. The pink flush of embarrassment had faded from her cheeks. She made her way briskly up the aisle, a confident professional air hostess. She walked past the two women in C, for whom Jessica was now weaving new biographies.
Fee joined her in the cubicle. She saw Jessica studying the pale ring on her finger. ‘Good on you,’ said the Scots girl warmly. Jessica smiled up at her. ‘The best bit will be seeing my mum’s face when I tell her the news.’
‘She’ll be pleased.’
‘Pleased? With a bit of luck the shock will finish the old bag off.’ Jessica chuckled. Even thinking about her mother couldn’t spoil the warm rush of pleasure she got every time she thought of Roy. She couldn’t believe it. Love had finally worked. It was like being at sea for years, thrown here and there by