فصل 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Alone at last

That night Francesca had to babysit, but the following evening Tom picked her up at seven thirty and they headed out to the cinema.

Tom was very gentlemanly, hurrying to open the car door for her, insisting on paying for the tickets, and buying popcorn. Francesca loved it. Her old boyfriend, Andrea, had always said such old-fashioned manners were ‘uncool’, but Francesca enjoyed Tom’s attention. She felt very special, and it made her feel attractive; she realised now how much Andrea had taken her for granted.

Francesca loved the film. Amelia Earhart had been one of her childhood heroes and she was an interesting character in herself, quite apart from her flying achievements. As they left the cinema, Francesca felt so happy she reached out and took Tom’s hand. Squeezing it excitedly, she said,

‘Come on, let’s go and get a drink.’

Tom’s reaction to the gesture was one of almost complete astonishment, but he certainly didn’t protest. Francesca was almost as astonished as Tom at what she’d done - all the emotions of the last week had left her head spinning.

When they’d found a pub and settled in a quiet corner, they chatted about the film for a time. Then Francesca said, ‘Do you know, my last boyfriend would never have taken me to a film like that.’

‘Why ever not?’ Tom asked.

‘He could never understand why I loved planes so much,’ Francesca answered. ‘He seemed to find it embarrassing. I think he believed a girl who liked aircraft must be strange in the head. He hated it whenever I said I wanted to become a pilot.’

Tom shook his head. ‘That’s crazy,’ he said. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’

Francesca nodded, delighted to find someone who thought as she did. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I want to know more about you. You’ve hardly told me a thing about yourself.’

Tom gave a weak smile. ‘What do you want to know?’ he asked.

‘Well, what are you interested in for a start?’ Francesca replied.

Tom hesitated. ‘Well, painting and drawing, above all. Like I said before, mostly anything that flies.’

‘Would you show me your pictures some time?’

Tom looked uncomfortable. ‘They’re nothing special. “Traditional and unimaginative” was how they’ve been described,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ Francesca asked.

‘I went to art college after I left school,’ Tom replied, then went on quite bitterly. ‘They didn’t much like the sort of thing I do and I didn’t like their ideas, so we had a bit of an argument. I left after a couple of terms.’

‘That sounds like a true artist,’ Francesca replied. ‘Good for you!’

Tom looked surprised. ‘That’s not what my father said,’ Tom added. ‘He called it “dropping out”.’

‘Well, if that bird you drew is anything to go by, it was the art college that lost out.’

‘That’s not quite how my father sees it,’ Tom muttered. ‘I’ve never been quite the son he wanted, I guess.’

Sensing it was a bit of a delicate area, Francesca asked him about other things and soon the subject was forgotten. Tom relaxed again. Three-quarters of an hour passed before they knew it; all of a sudden the pub was closing.

They drove back to the Thompsons, both curiously silent, a little uncertain of what lay ahead. When they reached the house, Tom pulled up beside the pavement. With the engine still running, he turned towards Francesca.

‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he said. ‘I’ve enjoyed it so much.’

‘No, Tom, I’ve got to thank you,’ Francesca replied. ‘It was really lovely.’

They looked at each other a bit awkwardly.

After a moment Tom spoke again. ‘So, I’ll see you up at the airfield next Tuesday?’

‘You bet,’ Francesca replied. The awkwardness grew again. This time Francesca reached out her hand.

‘Tom,’ she said, touching him on the arm. ‘I didn’t thank you properly yesterday afternoon for persuading me to join Flying Start.’

‘Of course, you did,’ Tom protested.

‘No, Tom, really,’ Francesca insisted. ‘Three days ago I was more depressed than I can tell you. I was about to go back to Switzerland and drop the whole idea of flying, a dream I’ve had since I was just a child. And then meeting you in the park… well, you rescued me, don’t you understand?’

Tom blinked in confusion. ‘Really?’ he asked.

‘Really,’ Francesca replied.

With that, she leant across the car very quickly and kissed Tom on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said, then climbed hurriedly out of the car.

Later that night, she lay in bed thinking over her evening with Tom. It occurred to her that kissing him like that wasn’t exactly the act of someone determined to avoid a relationship, but she didn’t really care. There was something about his shyness that she liked and the way he seemed so proud to be with her. When she’d got out of the car after the kiss, he’d looked as wide-eyed as a young boy with a brilliant birthday gift. The memory left her with a smile as she drifted off to sleep.

Francesca didn’t have any time off in the next few days, so she didn’t see Tom again until the next Tuesday afternoon. Of course, they phoned and texted one another a number of times. When she arrived at the airfield, however, George was keen to get going quickly, so there was no time to talk.

Once Francesca had checked the aircraft, she climbed inside and started up the engine. A couple of minutes later, George pulled himself slowly into the right-hand seat.

‘OK,’ he said, once they were settled. ‘Today I want three more landings exactly like the one you did last Thursday. Do you think you can manage that?’

They approached the runway, then waited for another plane to land. As it got nearer, Francesca recognised the Fastwings Cessna and her heart missed a beat. Although she knew Doug couldn’t possibly see her, she felt herself slide lower in the seat as he flew past. When his plane had cleared the runway, they moved forward themselves and quickly took off.

A couple of minutes later they were at 1000 feet and turning round on the familiar route to land back at the airfield.

Francesca’s first landing was good - not as good as the one on Thursday, but in Georges words, ‘quite acceptable’.

The second was brilliant. As she brought the plane down, she knew even before the wheels touched the ground, that they would just kiss the runway as softly as a pair of lips.

George was impressed. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Now, pull up just there on the left.’

Francesca frowned, but did as George instructed. She felt a little disappointed. ‘I thought you said we were going to do three landings,’ she said, bringing the plane to a stop.

‘I’m not,’ George replied. ‘But you are.’

George was already opening the door before she’d understood what he meant.

‘You mean I’m going on my own?’ she said.

‘We call it “going solo”,’ George answered. ‘Now listen. Just take the aircraft round to the start of the runway, radio the control tower for permission to take off, and take her up. Do exactly what you’ve just done. Just one landing, then bring her back to the hangar. All right?’

Francesca was too taken aback to protest. She nodded silently. George was already climbing out of the plane. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She’d imagined that flying solo would be months ahead, after dozens and dozens of landings.

‘You’ll find she’ll climb much quicker with only one person,’ George said, already standing down on the ground.

Again, Francesca nodded.

‘Away you go then,’ George said. He gave an encouraging thumbs-up sign, then shut the door. The next moment he was moving away below the wing, and heading for the grass.

All of a sudden, Francesca found herself on her own. She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus. The cockpit seemed terribly empty without George close at her side. She hesitated. ‘Well, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ she thought, suddenly angry with herself.

With that, she sat up, reached for the throttle and released the brakes. The plane edged forward. Through the side window she saw George making his way across the grass; he didn’t turn and wave.

Francesca took the plane up to the waiting point before the runway and stopped. Clearing her throat, she called the control tower.

‘Golf Lima Yankee is ready for take-off,’ she said, surprised at the firmness of her voice.

‘Golf Lima Yankee, you are cleared for take-off,’ came the reply.

Francesca steered the plane round onto the piano keys and stopped again, the runway stretching ahead.

‘This is it,’ she thought. ‘This is the last chance to turn back.’

She only hesitated to check all the dials and controls. Then, emptying her mind of all other thoughts, she pushed in the throttle. The plane sat up eagerly and moved forward. This time the speed picked up much faster. Soon they were at 55, and then before she knew it the nose was lifting up and they were in the air. ‘Keep the nose down,’ she kept telling herself. ‘Don’t try to climb too fast!’

George was absolutely right. Without his extra weight, the plane was up to 1000 feet in half the time it had previously taken. Steadily, Francesca turned the aircraft. As she did so, a wonderful feeling ran through her. This was it! She was solo! All those hours of work and saving had finally paid off. A smile began to creep across her face; but the moment she felt it, she wiped it away. ‘Francesca,’ she said, ‘you are up here all alone. Now you’ve got to get down by yourself.’

She had to concentrate very hard. Everything happened twice as fast as usual. Before she knew it she was already making the preparations for landing, watching for the moment to swing onto the final approach.

When she did, a new sense of confidence ran through her. Slowly the plane slipped through the sky, gradually losing height. ‘Remember that picture,’ she told herself. ‘You’re going down a slide; at the end you’ll step off.’

Down and down she slid. She concentrated very hard. ‘Not too soon,’ she said out loud. ‘Remember to hold off!’ Afterwards, she couldn’t remember those last few moments. She must have been so focused, so concentrated on the job. All she knew was that, quite suddenly, she was down and the plane was running along the runway.

As she drove the plane back towards the hangar, a huge sense of achievement ran through her, greater than she’d ever felt before in her life. She had flown a plane solo; no one would be able to take that from her as long as she lived. A new smile began to spread across her face. This time she didn’t stop it.

Tom came running towards her before she’d even brought the plane to a stop.