‘And what do you do?’ he asked her.
‘I am…’
She wasn’t immediately answering and that piqued his interest even more. She had secrets. But, then again, so did he.
‘I’m… in the army.’
She had whispered the reply and looked over her shoulder. Except, given their location, the only thing her eyes connected with was the back of her own seat. He had not seen that occupation coming, which was perhaps a little judgemental of him. But seeing how she had handled her suitcase and a carry-on in departures he wasn’t convinced she would be able to deal with swinging an automatic weapon. Then again, first impressions could definitely be misleading. He could vouch wholeheartedly for that.
‘It’s… not something I’m really supposed to talk about,’ she whispered again. ‘I’ve… you know… signed the Official Secrets Act.’
‘And you’re going to Athens on official business?’ He had lowered his voice too now, moved his head a little closer. ‘Greece has a military issue no one knows about?’
‘Oh… no,’ she said quickly, wetting her lips with her tongue. ‘I’m going to Greece on holiday. Well, a working holiday.’ She paused for a second. ‘Sort of.’
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked. ‘Or is that a secret too?’
She tapped her nose with her finger as if that was all the answer he needed.
‘I was going to suggest some good restaurants for you to try, that is all.’
‘Oh, well, that’s very kind of you but…’
They were interrupted by an announcement that the pilot had turned on the fasten seatbelts sign. Now, his companion looked even more flustered.
‘I hope there isn’t going to be turbulence,’ she said, a nervous laugh falling from her lips.
‘Don’t worry,’ Elias told her. ‘I have flown this route many, many times.’
With that said, the plane bumped violently upwards and the little bottle of wine on Becky’s tray table fell down to the cabin floor.
Nine
It felt like hours before the rocking and swaying and up and downing came to an end. In reality, it was only around twenty minutes, but Becky stayed seated for another hour before she dared leave the apparent safety of her seat to use the on-board toilet. Lance Corporal Becky Rose and her unknown anxiety over turbulence… Why, oh why had she told Elias the estate agent that she was in the army? Actually, she knew exactly why. Because Hazel and Shelley’s warnings about giving information about herself had come cheerleading into her mind – with pompoms and batons – and she knew she had already slipped up and told him her real name. Between trying to think of something a little like catering but not catering, Becky had thought about Megan’s win with the army contract and there it was… her new fake occupation. One she knew exactly nothing about. Still, she had kept up the pretence that she was only going as far as Athens, so no harm done. It wasn’t like the gorgeous Greek was going to follow her to her next gate…
There was a queue for the toilet, but it was good to stretch your legs on these planes, wasn’t it? Hazel had tried to lend her some stockings to prevent a DVT. But Becky had been put off because Hazel had said she’d worn them in hospital when she’d had her gallbladder removed. When she pulled them out of her handbag Becky was quite convinced they hadn’t been washed since…
‘God! Hurry up, man in the checked shirt! He’s been in there three whole minutes. You know what that means, don’t you?’
The girl ahead of Becky in the queue turned around and faced her, as if expecting a response. She was possibly eighteen, maybe less and had her blonde hair in two neater-than-neat plaits, properly pleated from her very scalp and not a strand out of place. She was pretty and wearing skinny jeans and a T-shirt that said ‘Nobody’s Foo’.
‘I…’ Becky began.
‘Number two,’ the girl answered. ‘Who even does that on a plane?’
Becky opened her mouth to reply but the girl carried on.
‘The guy in the checked shirt. That’s who.’ She sighed and checked her watch. Becky noticed her arm was covered with multi-coloured wristbands. One said ‘Bang Cock’ and another ‘Thighland’. Becky knew she hadn’t had that much wine for her eyes to misinterpret the spellings.
‘If this pilot doesn’t put his foot down, I’m going to miss my onward flight.’
‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘Where are you going after Athens?’
‘Corfu,’ the girl replied. ‘Supposed to be getting the flight with Olympic Air but unless they’re going to hold the plane, there’s a fat chance of that happening.’ She sighed, smiled and stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Petra, by the way.’
‘Becky,’ Becky answered, taking her hand and shaking it. Shit, she’d told someone else her real name! She steadied herself against a seat back as the plane dipped a little. ‘Do you really think we’re going to be that late? I’m meant to be getting that flight too.’ It was OK to say that to this girl, wasn’t it? She was in the same boat… or plane… whatever. Single girl camaraderie. Except she didn’t know the girl was single. No one in Becky’s orbit seemed to be single at the moment. Except Hazel. But she did have plans for debonair denture-wearers on her P&O break…
‘Well, during my grand tour I’ve missed more planes than I’ve caught them so, going on that…’
‘What do you do… you know… when you miss a plane and… it’s not your fault?’ Petra obviously had experience on this subject. It was always better to be forewarned about these things. If she really was going to miss the connection, Becky needed to find somewhere to stay before everyone else missing onward flights started thinking along the same lines. And she should email Ms O’Neill. Or phone her. Did she have her number? Whatever the form of communication, she should let her know about the delay. Except she couldn’t do any of those things mid-flight.
‘It very much depends on the airline and the length of the delay. Most of them will try and give you the bare minimum. The bare minimum in Indonesia seemed to be a bowl of beansprouts and a free T-shirt.’ Petra took the top she was wearing between her forefingers and widened it out. ‘But I quite like it. And I did quite like the food at Nobody’s Foo. The beer was good too.’
Great. So, the chances were there was going to be a further cost to Becky if she missed the flight and wanted a bed that wasn’t the airport floor. She had obviously brought some euros with her but that small nest-egg, having been sat there untouched for ages, was being pecked away at like a chick breaching its shell prior to birth. Too many cracks and Becky would have nothing for that rainy day she was always worrying about. Particularly if Megan decided to fire her…
‘Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to have to fashion a makeshift Shewee.’ Petra stepped forward as the man in the checked shirt appeared from the toilets. She smiled back at Becky. ‘I won’t be long. Just a number one. Unlike some.’ She sent a glare to Mr Checked Shirt who seemed thankfully oblivious. Petra seemed completely unconcerned with revealing her name and travel plans as well as what she was going to do in the toilet. Perhaps Becky should be less Hazel and Shelley, and be a bit more Petra…