A Sting in the Tale: A Collection of Short Stories

1

Kirsty’s last shift for a fortnight — working the tills at Tesco — was over with. Her bath was almost full to the brim with a Lush bath product fizzing away close to the surface of the warm water. Her husband, Dylan, was downstairs fetching her a much needed cup of tea. Her favourite pyjama bottoms were hanging over the radiator, ready to slip into as soon as she was dry from her bath, and 90s music filled the room — blasting from the small, yet powerful, speaker on the back of her iPhone. Tomorrow — six o’clock in the morning to be precise — she would be flying off to an exotic climate for some much needed rest and relaxation upon the sandy beaches of what most would call a paradise island and yet — despite all of this — she wasn’t feeling happy.

She leaned forward in the bath and reached for the taps. A quick twist and she stopped the flow of water before laying back down. The water swished back with her and splashed over the top of her neck and shoulders. She reached for her phone, taking it from the side, and killed the music. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes momentarily, trying to enjoy the peace and quiet. Ethan — her twelve year old son — was busy blasting through another level of Assassin’s Creed in his bedroom and Dylan was pottering about in the kitchen; hopefully searching out one of the many takeaway menus they had lying around to save her from having to cook when she got out of the bath. Despite her surroundings, the fact she was on holiday, and the obvious tranquility in the house though Kirsty was finding it hard to relax properly, or even be happy. Yes, she wanted to go on holiday. Yes, she was happy to be off work for a fortnight. And — yes — she enjoyed the quiet moments offered by the house but none of that helped to distract her from the thought that — tomorrow — Kirsty was going to have to board a plane…

There was a little knock on the bathroom door before it opened. Dylan was standing there with a cup of tea in his hands, “Here you go,” he said. He walked in and put it on the side.

“Thank you, manface!” If you had asked Kirsty, she couldn’t tell you why she called Dylan ‘manface’. It had just been one of those names — said once in jest — that seemed to stick. At first it bugged him a little but — now — he was so used to it he barely registered it and at six foot three, there were worse names he could have been called — such as ‘lanky’.

“And I’ve ordered a Chinese,” he said as he about turned back to the door.

“Our last meal, a special treat indeed!” Kirsty said.

Dylan froze momentarily before turning back to her, “Are you still stressing about tomorrow?” He sighed. He knew she hated to fly but they both wanted a holiday and — if you wanted a nice holiday — that tended to mean you needed to get on some kind of aircraft, if only for a few hours. Neither of them wanted a holiday in this country, although it would have been easier as it meant no flying and they would have been able to take Willow, their three year old labrador, as opposed to leaving her in the kennels for a couple of weeks. “How many more times? It is perfectly safe to fly.”

“Oh really?” Kirsty sat up, causing another mini-wave to roll to the other end of the tub and splash against the taps and bathroom wall. “Perfectly safe?”

“Well — yes — pretty much. I mean — yes — accidents can happen but they are few and far between.”

“What about that plane that got shot done over the Ukraine? Did you know they blamed that on the Russians? Yep. Apparently they aimed their anti-aircraft guns up in the sky and blew that plane to smithereens.” she said. “A commercial jet that — for some reason — they took a dislike to and, for the people onboard, that was that. Gone. Game over. Dead. No more. Thanks and see you later.”

“That’s one plane,” Dylan said. Immediately he regretted opening his mouth. Dylan sighed. He knew what was coming. Coming next was a barrage of recent events from the News; stories about plane crashes and planes disappearing never to be seen again — like something you’d see in an episode of ‘Fringe’ or ‘The X-Files’. He’d heard this repertoire so much now he could have mouthed along, had he had the inclination to do so.

“So okay that was one plane. Blown apart with innocent people onboard because the Russians decided to take them out. Fine. One plane,” Kirsty said. “What about the plane that disappeared overseas? One minute it was there and the next — vanished straight from the radars.”

“Maybe it was a broken radar as opposed to a faulty plane?” It was a glib comment intended to throw Kirsty off her ‘broken record’ of facts and figures.

“It never landed. They never found the passengers.” Kirsty continued, “And then of course there’s that plane that landed with everyone dead. Some deadly virus onboard which was changing the people from the inside out, making them come back as…”

Dylan shut her down, “That was a television programme and a book before that. You don’t get to do that one. To my knowledge there have been no real cases of a virus wiping out everyone on a plane before now.”

“Okay then — that pilot.”

Dylan sighed. He had seen this on the News too. It had been impossible not to see it. Every damned channel screamed about the tragedy and it was on the front page of practically every newspaper. There was a mentally unstable pilot who decided to kill himself by nosediving the plane straight down into the mountains. It would have been okay had it not been for the fact he was supposed to be working at the time. It wasn’t a private plane. It was a commercial jet and full of passengers. His self-destructive nature cost the lives of countless others. One day the selfish asshole woke up and something inside snapped and that was it. He had to kill himself but wasn’t content with just doing that — he wanted to take everyone else with him too, even though they were complete strangers to him. Dylan had just known that Kirsty wouldn’t be able to let that one go.

“He just woke up one day and decided — actually, you know what… I’m done with life. He killed everyone on that plane. Everyone! As did the people who crashed the planes into the Two Towers…”

“Also known as the Twin Towers unless there’s an extra scene that I missed in ‘Lord of the Rings’ and — honey — that was four years ago now. Heard about it happening since then? Come on. You’re panicking over nothing. Statistically speaking — you’re more likely to die on the way to the airport than on the actual plane…”

“Yeah — okay then — you know what?”

“What’s that?”

“Someone — somewhere — probably said that very same fact to one of the passengers on the crashed planes. Did you know it is extremely rare to get hit by lightning?”

“Yes.”

“Well people still get struck. Just because it is rare, it doesn’t mean it won’t happen to you.”

Dylan sighed, “Your cup of tea is getting cold.”

Before she had the chance to say anything, he walked from the room and closed the door behind him. There were only so many times he could say the same thing, “It’s okay — you’ll be fine… You’re worrying for nothing.” You see, that was the problem, Kirsty was a natural born worrier. If something bad could happen to someone, she would often stress that she’d be the one for it to happen to. In any given situation she would be the sort of person who’d fret about the worst possible outcome and it didn’t matter what you said to her. All you could do — to prevent getting into an argument about it — was walk away. He had no idea why she was like that and — truth be told — she had no idea why either. She was thirty-three years young and, in her life, she hadn’t even seen that much tragedy. Not first hand anyway. She just seemed to have a brain that acted as a sponge for all the bad things she saw, or read, in the media.

“Why can’t we go on holiday to London?” she called out. “We could visit the Tower of London again! And — you know what? — it’s only a couple of hours drive from Corby! No need to get on a plane!”

Dylan didn’t answer. He was already downstairs playing his guitar in order to help him de-stress.

2

Passengers were screaming as they fumbled over securing the masks over their head. Even the air stewards looked uneasy as the plane momentarily dropped from the sky again — hit by another heavy bout of turbulence.

Some of the overhead lockers had opened and spilled their contents on the people below; one man was hit with a case heavy enough to cut his head open and spark him out cold, much to the horror of those around — including Kirsty. She was screaming louder than the others despite everyone being just as scared as she was.

She had been asleep when the turbulence had first started; a slight shudder which had caused a ripple of nervous laughter throughout the economy cabin, followed by a stomach-turning drop as the plane seemingly bounced in the air. As the turbulence had continued and progressively got worse, she had woken with a start. The seatbelt signs had already been illuminated and even the cabin crew had taken their seats.

Outside the windows were black clouds. The plane flying through the middle of them. An electrical storm raging beyond, lighting the whole cabin up with occasional flickers akin to strobe lighting. No thunder though, as the plane danced in the sky — up and then down, down again and up and down and up and down and down and down and up. One passenger — seated on the other side of an equally panicky Dylan — threw up into his mask; dribbles of sick spewing from the corners and snaking their way down his chin as he choked again, repulsed by the stench and fact the sick was captured in his mask and spilling back into his mouth. The lady next to him couldn’t help but to vomit too as the plane dropped from the sky once more before finding its power again and increasing altitude.

The plane tilted to the side; right wing down and left wing up. A god-awful crack filled the cabin as the door flew off, spat into the dark skies beyond. A howling screaming of wind roared through the cabin as bags, trays and rubbish were all sucked out, soon followed by the sight of people — still secured to their seats — also being yanked out to their impending death. More screams, not that you’d hear them over the noise, as the plane started to go down — its nose pointing to the floor 10,000 feet below.

Kirsty screamed again. All sounds — other than a buzzing — stopped and the scene played on in near silence. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The master bedroom of their two bed house; a corner semi-detached in Northamptonshire. The alarm, by the side of her bed, was beeping — telling both her and Dylan that it was time to get up. Still with a raised heartbeat, she killed the alarm and turned to Dylan. He was already up and nearly fully dressed — a look of excitement on his face that their holiday, booked many months ago, was finally here. His face dropped the moment he noticed Kirsty’s expression.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t want to go…”

I I

Dylan was driving the car. He had managed to convince Kirsty that her dream was not a premonition and so she was riding shotgun in the passenger seat. Their son was in the rear, asleep.

The problem with a flight being at 6am in the morning was that they had had to be at the airport a good few hours before they were due to take off. A situation made worse when you lived a number of miles away from where you were flying from — in this case London.

“We could stay in London for the week,” Kirsty pushed.

“I don’t want to stay in London for the week. I want to go somewhere warm with blue seas. London has neither of those.”

“But we wouldn’t need to fly,” she pointed out. “What about the aliens?” she suddenly said.

Dylan looked at her. Once again, he knew what was coming. He believed in aliens, she didn’t. Normally she liked to tease him about it but he knew she was about to try something else to stop her from having to get on the plane.

“What if they choose our plane as the one to abduct?” she continued. Despite not believing a word she was saying, she still managed to say it with a straight face so he gave her kudos for that at least.

“Then you would have to apologise to me for all the times you said I was an idiot for believing in them,” Dylan pointed out.

“Hard to apologise when we’re being dissected,” Kirsty pointed out.

Dylan was getting agitated yet still trying his best not to say something he’d regret — like telling his wife to stop being so damned pathetic and pull herself together. In a calm voice he continued, “Remember when we booked this? I asked you about the flights and you said you would be fine. We’re not going to cancel just because you’re starting to panic about it. You do know we would lose all the money, right?”

She sighed. She knew they’d lose the money but — now it was time to get on the plane — she didn’t care. She had a bad feeling about it, fuelled by the recent press stories she had read where planes had gone down, disappeared or had the flight disrupted somehow. They were still about an hour away from the airport and she could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat.

“Just keep thinking about the resort,” Dylan said. “How luxurious it is…”

It was luxurious too. White sand that you’d no doubt have to run across due to it being super-heated by the sun, crystal clear blue ocean of the stillest water. Deep blue skies without a cloud in sight. And the amenities too; lagoon-like pools, comfortable sun-loungers, hammocks stretched from tree to tree, a different restaurant for every night of their holiday, a high-class spa. The resort was the very definition of luxury.

“As soon as we get there, you can head off for a massage to de-stress. How’s that? And — I haven’t told you this yet — but I even booked us into the airport lounge and there’s a spa in there too. You can have a nice massage before you get on the plane; a little rub to ease away the tension before you board.”

It was a nice idea and Kirsty appreciated it but she knew it would be useless. She would only get tense when she was sitting on the plane, especially during the take off. A massage at the airport would be money wasted. What made the whole thing worse, in her head, was that — even if she survived the trip out there… She still had to come home again at the other end of the holiday.

“What do you say?” Dylan pushed her for an answer.

“Maybe.”

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had his work cut out for him to ensure she got on that airplane. His father used to say ‘maybe’ to him a lot when he was growing up and it always meant the same thing — ‘no’. It was just easier to say ‘maybe’ than it was to say ‘no’. It stopped the conversation short and meant no further discussion was needed. Saying ‘no’ just invited more pressure from the person trying to convince you to do something you’d sooner not. With one eye on the road, he turned to Kirsty and flashed her a smile. She didn’t see; her eyes were closed as she pretended to sleep so as to avoid further conversation.

3

Kirsty imagined sitting in one of the cramped seats of the plane. Everything around her was happening in slow-motion. All sound was mute. Directly in front of her was the air-stewardess. Her mouth was open as she appeared to be screaming. Her eyes were wide. The pain and fear she felt was clearly etched upon her face as the flames licked away the skin, leaving red blisters and pealing skin with each taste of her flesh. Belted up, and fearing for her own life, there was nothing Kirsty could do other than to watch in horror in the knowledge that the flames would soon be consuming her flesh too. The only way out of it being, to tell the lady behind the desk — now — that there was a bomb in the suitcase she was weighing in.

She went to open her mouth but caught sight of Dylan’s smile. He was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke with the lady behind the desk; buzzing with excitement at the thought of going away on this trip.

“Next bag, please.” The lady pressed a button and the first suitcase disappeared down the conveyor belt.

Too late for that bag. Dylan lifted the second case up onto the belt and stood up straight. Kirsty felt her heart race as the adrenaline rushed through her body; her brain tempting her to shout out that this was the case with the bomb. She closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see where she was then, she figured, it meant she wasn’t really there. She felt a tap on her arm and opened her eyes. Dylan was looking right at her with a smile on his face.

He mouthed the words, are you okay?

She nodded and smiled back.

“Okay here are your boarding cards. If you’d like to make your way through security.” The lady handed over three boarding cards; one for Dylan, one for Kirsty and one for Ethan who was — himself — bouncing off the walls with excitement. Unlike his mother, he wasn’t scared of flying — not that he had been on a plane before. If anything, he was impatient for it.

“Thank you,” Dylan took the cards and the three of them set off for the security channel with him leading the way.

This was another aspect of flying that Kirsty hated; security. She had never done anything wrong, and was never carrying anything she shouldn’t have been but — whenever she was confronted with situations like this — she felt guilty. In her head she’d set the machine off and — in a panic — would turn and run from the guards. They would give chase, catch her and end up dragging her through to a private room ready for the strip search. Of course it never happened like that but it didn’t stop the rogue thoughts from running riot in her overly stressed brain.

“I’ll probably have a heart attack before we even get to the plane. You realise that, don’t you?” she said, catching up with Dylan.

“You’ll be fine.” He was a patient man but it was getting to the stage where he just wanted to be there now. If he was on the beach, with the water lapping at his toes, he would no longer have to listen to her moaning and stressing about the flight. He wasn’t scared of flying, if anything he actually enjoyed it, and yet — with her constant worrying, he was starting to feel uneasy. It was as though she was going to end up jinxing them with her negativity. Naturally he couldn’t tell her that. Not without starting an argument and — when she was stressed already — that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Ethan! Get back here!” he shouted suddenly. Ethan — overly excited — had run off into the security line-up. That was the one nice thing about Kirsty’s fear of flying; it meant she was so busy looking after herself that minding their son ended up being Dylan’s responsibility. He didn’t mind though and, for her, it was one less thing to worry about.

They caught their son up and Dylan took two plastic containers from underneath a conveyor belt. The two bags of carry-on luggage were dropped in to the tubs first and then their shoes, belts, phones and watches. It was ridiculous the amount you had to discard and the rules you had to follow when going through the security points but no one ever complained. Rather a few minutes of mild annoyance than someone walking onto the plane with a shoe packed with Semtex — something else that Kirsty often thought about when flying. This fear also brought about by a News story. A man who was caught trying to detonate his shoe in the plane’s toilets a few years ago. At the time, when Kirsty heard the report, she had found it funny but now she was presented with the task of having to get on the plane; it was her worst nightmare. Or — at least — one of her worst nightmares as the list was more than extensive and, thanks to depressed pilots and acts of terrorism and this and that… It was getting longer month by month.

Dylan went through the scanner first — without setting it off — so he could catch Ethan on the other side, before he had the opportunity to run off for more airport exploration. Ethan was second, again, without setting it off and then it was Kirsty’s turn.

She stood there a moment, waiting for the guard to beckon her through. Her legs were shaking and she could feel that her back was sweaty. She hated that she could get herself so worked up. She often told herself to stop being stupid. Something she found easy to say and yet failed to obey. It was like one part of her head told her to behave and that everything would be okay and the other part of her brain simply said ‘fuck you’. She’d even considered seeing a hypnotist to try and rid herself of these silly worries. Especially as, deep down, she knew everyone was right — compared to a lot of things, flying was relatively safe and you were more likely to die on the way to the airport than go down on a plane.

But someone has to be the unlucky one and die in a plane crash for it to be a statistic. How do you know it won’t be you? The nagging thought in the back of her mind right now.

“Yes please.” The guard beckoned her through.

She put on her best fake smile and walked through.

The alarm didn’t go off.

4

For someone scared of flying, such as Kirsty, it could be argued that sitting by the window — overlooking the runway — in the carrier’s lounge is a silly thing to do. It would only add to the apprehension of being on that plane yourself and going through the take-off procedures. Dylan insisted on it though and for two — good — reasons. The first being that Ethan wanted to sit there and it meant it would stop him from running around, exploring everywhere. The second being that Dylan thought it would be good for Kirsty to see so many planes take off, into the skies, with no issues.

“There goes another one,” he said as a fourth plane climbed into the air.

“This isn’t helping,” Kirsty pointed out.

“Why not? Look! All these planes taking off with no issues. You can see how safe it is.”

“Think about this — for every plane that takes off safely… It cuts down the odds for one failing. If out of, say, a thousand planes — one crashes… Well, none of these are crashing, are they? Which means it could be the next one. And if it’s not the next one, or even the one after that… Then it could be the one we are on.”

Dylan sat back in his chair. He didn’t know what to say to that. In some screwy kind of way, her logic did actually make some sense.

“I’m trying to help you here,” he confessed.

“I know you are. And I appreciate it but,” she sighed, “I just don’t like flying. Not everyone does.”

“Well how about next year we go on a cruise? Or — don’t tell me — that worries you too?”

“I can’t help how I feel.”

“Okay look at it this way then — if the plane does go down, you’re not going to know much about it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked in disbelief that he’d even said it in the first place.

“No. I’m just saying — there’s little point worrying about it because, if it happens, it will be quick.”

“Be quick? We’d have to fall out of the sky first. I’m sure that won’t be as quick as you’d think it would be. And what if we landed in the mountains? No chance of rescue, no way out — we’d be forced to eat each other.”

“You watched ‘Alive’ again, didn’t you?”

“Not recently, no, but you get my point!”

“That was a film. A very good one too.”

“It was also based on fact. That could happen again.”

“It was?”

Kirsty nodded.

“Fine — okay — well we’re not flying over the French Alps so we’ll be fine.”

Kirsty sighed.

Dylan was starting to get frustrated, “I don’t know what you want me to do! We both wanted to come on this holiday. We both chose to book it. Now you’re being like this. We can’t not go as we won’t get our money back and — besides which — I want to go. I try and help you but you just brush everything I say under the carpet. What’s a man supposed to do?”

“I haven’t asked you to do anything!” Kirsty felt herself getting wound up. It wasn’t his fault, she knew it wasn’t, but she just wished he would shut up about the whole flying thing. She would deal with it in her own way, just as she always did. And if that meant picturing many ways to die painfully than so be it.

The pair fell silent as Ethan cheered at another plane successfully taking off. Dylan was just grateful their son hadn’t picked up on any of Kirsty’s fears. He couldn’t be dealing with two scared fliers.

An announcement came over the lounge’s tannoy system stating that their flight was ready for boarding. Ethan cheered again as Dylan stood up. He reached down and took a hold of one of the carry on cases before noticing Kirsty hadn’t moved.

“Did you not hear them?” he asked. “They called us.”

“It’s only just boarding,” she said, “we don’t have to be one of the first on, do we?”

Dylan sighed again, “Well no but we need to get to the gate at least. We don’t have to go straight on the plane but it might be a good idea if we’re close-by so, when they do make the final call out, we can run on.”

Kirsty stood up, “Fine.” She snatched the second bag from the floor and started walking towards the lounge’s exit. Dylan followed and Ethan charged ahead of the pair of them. Kirsty’s fear was starting to manifest itself into an irritable mood. Dylan knew not to take it to heart as she was just scared but it was something he struggled with from time to time. There he was, looking forward to going away, and there she was — snapping at anything and everything he said.

He kept telling himself, she’d be fine as soon as the plane was in the air. Once the take-off was done, she tended to calm herself a little. It helped that she was distracted by the inflight entertainment system. She’d only then start to work herself up again if there was turbulence or when the Captain announced they were pretty close to their destination. Then she started to stress about the landing.

I I

Dylan had led his family through the smaller security check-point at the gate. Whilst most people were boarding the plane immediately, they had taken a seat with their backs to the window. At least Dylan and Kirsty had. Ethan was running around, desperate to board the plane on which he’d be a passenger for the next eight and bit hours flight time.

“I might have found a silver lining in your cloud,” Dylan said. He turned his attention to Kirsty. She was sitting next to him. Her skin was pale and her eyes were shut tight. “Hey,” he tried again to get her attention.

She opened her eyes.

“Did you hear me?” he asked. “I might have found you a silver lining.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay well — the thought of being buried scares you, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And the thought of being cremated also makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Kirsty already knew where this was going and was just glaring at her husband. Was he really going to be this stupid right now?

“Well think of this,” he said, “if the plane does go down — there’s a good chance they won’t find the body and — therefore — you avoid both burial and cremation.” Yep. That was exactly what she thought he was going to say. He noticed her lack of smile and gave her a little nudge, “Come on, I’m joking. It was just a little joke… You have to admit, it was a little funny.”

“You’re an idiot.”

5

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to ask you to board the plane now,” one of the air stewardess came over. The gate was on the verge of closing now and most passengers had been accounted for. Kirsty, Ethan and Dylan had to get on the plane for fear of holding it up.

“Sorry, I don’t like flying.” Kirsty warned her, just in case she couldn’t help herself but to freak out.

“Come on, it will be fine.” Dylan stood up and extended his hand to his wife. She took it and he helped her stand. Her damned legs were shaking like leaves in a breeze.

Ethan had already run to the entrance of the tunnel that connected to the plane. He definitely had no fear when it came to flying.

Dylan helped his wife down the tunnel and onto the plane where they were pointed to their seats by the cabin crew, greeting people at the door.

“You’re just down there on the right,” the smartly dressed man pointed them down the rows of seats to the set of three against one of the emergency exits. Whenever they flew they opted for these seats. Dylan was six foot three and liked the extra legroom offered. Yes it cost slightly more than a standard seat but at least it meant he was going to be comfortable for the duration of the flight as he could stretch right out. He took the window seat, Ethan was put in the middle and Kirsty sat on the aisle seat. She immediately put her seatbelt on and closed her eyes. Her hands were clenched around the armrests.

“Honey we’re probably going to be here for about twenty minutes or so before we even taxi to the runway,” Dylan pointed out. She opened her eyes and the fear was very evident. He felt sorry for her, of course he did, but there was very little he could do and — he was right — they had both chosen to come on this holiday. It wasn’t as though it was something he had just surprised her with.

He reached into the side pocket, against the wall, and pulled out the menu and guide for the inflight entertainment, “Here — why don’t you take a look through this,” he offered. She took it without saying a word and promptly started reading through it.

“Oh great,” she moaned almost as soon as she opened the menu.

“What is it?”

“Tuna steak for dinner. Brilliant.”

Dylan couldn’t help but to laugh, even though he felt like an asshole for it. Kirsty hated fish as much as she hated flying. It didn’t matter as to whether it was alive or dead. For some reason, they just freaked her right out. She closed the menu and tossed it to one side before opening the inflight entertainment.

The plane started to move.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” she started muttering to herself.

“It’s okay. It’s all good. We’re just heading to the runway. Nothing bad happening.” He quickly changed the subject, “Any good films or games to play?” he nodded towards the guide. Kirsty looked back down to it.

They were both gamers at home — mainly on the Xbox — so he hoped there’d be something entertaining enough to take Kirsty’s attention. Sure, it wouldn’t be as good as the games they had at home but it would be better than nothing. Anything to distract her frayed nerves was better than nothing.

“They have Tetris apparently,” Kirsty said. She knew the games would be crap but she was now thinking similarly to her husband — anything to distract her was better than nothing. “And Pacman. Clearly all the latest here,” she mocked.

“I want to play games,” Ethan blurted out.

“Soon buddy, soon. Can’t pull the televisions out until we’re in the air,” Dylan pointed out.

The cabin crew all took their positions in front of the cabin — one on either side of each section — and started to run through the safety announcement. Whereas most people half listen whilst looking out of the window and thinking about where they were headed — Kirsty paid close attention. She watched how to put the life-vest on, she paid attention to where the emergency exits were (even reading how to open the door on the special leaflet provided) and even watched — with interest — how to disembark using the slide. If the plane was going to go down — and in her head it was — she was going to be prepared.

The plane stopped.

An announcement came over the tannoy; all cabin crew were to take their seats.

“Oh God…”

“Honey, it’s fine! You need to relax.” Dylan leaned across his son and placed his hand on his wife’s leg for comfort. He could feel how much she was trembling. Ten minutes, he thought, and they’d be in the air and she would start to relax a little. Ten minutes. “Oh — nearly forgot,” he said. He took his hand back for a moment and reached into his pocket. He pulled out three hard-boiled sweets. Keeping one for himself — he handed the other two to his wife and son. “If you suck them, it stops your ears from popping.”

The plane started to move and gather speed.

Kirsty snatched the sweet from her husband and unwrapped the clear wrapper as quickly as she could before dropping the sweet into her mouth. The ear-popping sensation was part of what made flying so bad for her. As soon as the pressure changed, she felt her ears go yet sometimes they would not go the whole way and would end up feeling blocked and uncomfortable. And — more frustratingly — she wouldn’t be able to hear for days until they sorted themselves out again. Although she didn’t believe it, sucking sweets was supposed to stop that change in pressure affecting your ears and so — whenever she boarded a flight — she’d ensure she had a hardboiled sweet of some description to suck upon.

The plane tilted back as the front lifted from the ground. A second later, the whole machine was in the air.

Kirsty sucked back as hard as she could…

And so…

Eight of the longest hours of Dylan’s life had gone by and — finally — the plane touched down upon tarmac once more. The plane sped down the runway with the brakes on full, gradually slowing the craft to a stop. Outside the weather was as you’d expect for the tropics; beautiful skies and brilliant sunshine as the perfect golden orb, high in the air, beat down upon the lands superheating everything. Paradise.

The seatbelt lights pinged off and the cabin crew busied themselves, helping people get off. No one was really saying anything and — if they were — it was in hushed voices. Dylan and Ethan remained seated with Kirsty who’d usually be so desperate to disembark that she’d be one of the first off. Not this time though.

Only when the rest of the plane was empty did Dylan get off with his family; first he and his son left — walking down the stairs hand in hand, then two of the cabin crew with the family’s carry on luggage and then the paramedics — stretchering out the body of Kirsty. The hardboiled sweet still lodged in her throat. Her skin so blue, her eyes so lifeless.

But the plane hadn’t crashed…

T H E E N D