فصل 06

CHAPTER SIX

If only…

That evening, once Sam and Emma, the Thompsons children, had gone to bed and Francesca had cleared up in the kitchen, she went back up to her room to make her daily Skype call to her parents. As usual, she kept it cheerful and positive. She told them happily of all the progress she’d made and related a couple of Doug’s comments praising her flying skills. She then concentrated on news about Sam and Emma, which was what her mother was most interested in.

With her family duty done, Francesca then decided to email Antonella, her best friend back home. Although her message was definitely still positive, she finished, ‘The only problem is that the instructor, Doug, makes me feel really uncomfortable. Although he’s a good pilot, he makes these weird remarks and I keep thinking he’s about to make some sort of sexual move. He definitely touched my knee! He seems to be laughing at me half the time and he really scares me. I just don’t like him.’

Once she’d finished her email, Francesca read it through. She stared for a long time at the lines she’d written about Doug. Finally, with a little cry of annoyance, she deleted everything she’d said about him, and pressed ‘Send’ before she could change her mind.

She was about to shut down the laptop, when she found herself opening up the Internet again and typing in the address of the Fastwings website. The familiar front page opened up: the picture of her Cessna, G-AZBA, Doug in flying jacket and sunglasses, leaning up against the engine.

A couple of bubbles of text near the bottom caught her eye - recommendations from previous students: ‘Superb instruction from beginning to end. I never expected it to be so much fun!’ And another: ‘As a one-man show, Fastwings can keep costs to a minimum. Getting my licence was cheaper than I imagined!’

Francesca thought about the comments. It was that second one, emphasising how cheap it was, which had made her pick Fastwings. She wished now she’d chosen another flying school. She’d considered others at the time - there was even another one at Norwich.

She typed that in now: Flying Start. A fresh page appeared. She remembered it immediately: the rather unappealing picture of a young student sitting in the cockpit beside his instructor. The instructor looked very formal in his white shirt and tie - another reason why Francesca had chosen Fastwings. Doug had seemed so much more casual. Francesca tried to see into the Flying Start instructor’s eyes. He looked very correct, certainly not someone who might try to take advantage of her.

An idea flashed through her mind. Could she switch schools, ask for her money back from Fastwings, then sign up at Flying Start? She wouldn’t have to begin all over again, she would be able to continue from the point she’d already reached. But almost as quickly as the idea had come, it died. How could she ask Doug for her money back? What could she give as a reason?

Francesca closed down her computer quickly, angry with herself now. What was she thinking? Doug hadn’t done anything. Well, he’d possibly touched her on the knee, but nothing more. Nothing had happened! She’d let her imagination run wild in the car with him. What was wrong with her? Perhaps living here in England all on her own was too much for her. Perhaps she was too young.

Feeling furious with herself, Francesca marched through into the bathroom, tore off her clothes and stood under the shower. Finally, after a couple of minutes under the steady stream of water, she began to calm down.

Francesca was determined to focus on her flying when she arrived at the airfield for her next lesson. She knocked on the office door and was surprised when a woman’s voice told her to come in.

When she entered, she found a dark-haired woman of about forty, sitting on the sofa. She looked tired and fed up. Two little girls were kneeling at her feet, drawing in colouring books on the low table in front of her. Francesca recognised them from the photo on Doug’s desk.

‘You must be Francesca,’ the woman said immediately.

Francesca realised it was Doug’s wife.

‘Mrs Barker?’ she said.

‘That’s right,’ the woman replied. ‘I’ve heard all about you. Doug’s star pupil!’ She didn’t wait for a response, but began gathering her things together. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not staying. We just came to bring Doug his phone. He left it on the dining table. He’s always forgetting things, poor man.’

Francesca didn’t know how to react. The woman sounded bitter and sarcastic. Sometimes the English way of saying the opposite of what was meant left her completely confused. But she didn’t need to think of an answer because the next moment Doug came in.

‘Don’t bother with the introductions,’ Mrs Barker said, ‘we’ve already done all that. Besides, we’re going. How much did you manage to get?’

A brief discussion followed which Francesca understood was something to do with money. Doug then took out his wallet and handed across a couple of notes, which his wife immediately put in her bag.

All of a sudden, Doug marched across the room.

‘I told you not to do that!’ he shouted, pulling up one of the girls roughly by the arm. ‘I told you not to get your pens all over the floor!’

The girl’s face immediately twisted in fear and alarm. The next moment she began to cry. She ran over to her mother’s side.

‘Oh, brilliant work, Doug!’ his wife said sharply.

‘Well, it serves her right. She should bloody well listen when I give her orders,’ Doug said angrily.

A short argument followed. Eventually, Doug’s wife gathered the children together and they made for the door. Doug meanwhile sank down into a chair and watched the scene moodily. A moment or two later, with barely a word of goodbye, the small group hurried away.

When they’d gone, Doug twisted his face into a frown.

‘See what I mean about the joys of marriage?’ he said.

Francesca didn’t respond.

At last Doug pulled himself upright. ‘OK, “landings” today, wasn’t it? Perhaps you could do me a favour and fly us straight into the ground.’