But this time it wasn’t true. He did need luck. He needed all the luck in the entire universe to get this plane onto the ground. The line went dead.
‘Look at this,’ Pier said, turning up the volume on the TV as South Africa’s biggest news station started broadcasting from right outside the airport.
‘Over the skies of Johannesburg, Mzansi Airways, with one hundred and four souls on board, are minutes away from attempting an emergency landing here at South Africa’s busiest airport, without any landing gear. Across South Africa, viewers have been watching the drama unfold and holding their breath as the plane, piloted by Andrew Boyce-Jones, circled in a holding pattern for over an hour, burning off fuel for the imminent emergency landing.’
‘Turn it off,’ someone shouted.
‘Fucking media, turning a real emergency into fucking entertainment,’ Barry said, and then I felt a tentative hand on my shoulder. I turned. This was the first time that anyone at work had ever touched me.
‘He’s an excellent pilot. He’ll do this.’ He squeezed my shoulder and then moved towards the window. I followed.
‘What if the plane does crash and it’s broadcast live on TV to the entire country?’ Yvonne said. We all looked at her. The implications of her words rung in my ears.
‘That would be . . . awful,’ Pier said.
‘No one is going to crash,’ Barry said firmly.
Awful.I repeated the word to myself. It was not the right word though. Synonyms includedhorrific, shocking, gruesomeandghastly. Those words were more apt.Awfulsounded too benign and pedestrian to describe the horror that was playing out right now. In a few minutes, Andrew was going to bellyflop – either too fast, or too slow – one hundred and ten thousand pounds onto a concrete runway. Skid along the runway with no brakes to slow them down and hope that they reached a full stop by the end of the runway and in the process did not burst into flames. Andrew’s plane came into view. I pressed my face up against the window like I’d done at the aquarium, but this time under very different circumstances. I felt nauseous. Dizzy. But the closer the plane got to the runway, the closer it came to the inevitable belly flop.
Please let him be safe.
Please let him be safe.
He was going too fast!
‘Slow down,’ I said to him quickly. ‘You’re coming in too fast.’
‘Slowing down,’ he said, sounding so unbelievably calm.
‘As soon as you hit the ground, wing spoilers and reverse thrust.’
‘I know.’
‘Keep your nose up for as long as you can.’
‘I know.’
‘Sorry, I know you know. I love you.’
‘I know you know I love you too. I have to go,’ he said, and the radio went silent. I could see he’d slowed the plane somewhat, but he was still coming in fast. Andrew was controlling the plane now by instinct alone. Keeping the nose up at just the right angle, judging the speed and rate of descent based purely on what he could see and feel, without any electronic equipment to guide him, and he was about to touch down. I gasped as the back of the plane hit the runway. White smoke exploded from the tail and the sound of the metal grating against the concrete was so loud I was sure the entire world could hear it. And when the engines came into contact with the concrete, sparks lit up the runway like firecrackers. I hoped the fuel tank was bone dry. Let it be dry! But the flames that suddenly appeared told me that it wasn’t, and worse than that, they were not slowing down fast enough.
‘Come on, come on! Slow down!’ Barry said next to me. I think every single person watching this was willing the plane to slow. And the willing worked, because the plane started to slow and finally stop, just at the end of lucky number seven. But none of us clapped or celebrated yet. I felt someone grab my hand, I didn’t know whose hand it was, but I squeezed it tightly as I watched the flames and smoke growing bigger by the second. The doors opened, inflatable slides flew out of the plane, and people began climbing out. The fire trucks raced to the plane, and soon it was being doused.
‘Come on, come on!’ I was trying to count the heads running across the tarmac. The pilot could only leave the plane once the last person had exited. The wait was almost impossible to bear, but finally, finally, the last of the passengers exited and I saw Andrew and the crew jumping out onto the inflatable sides. A massive cheer rose up around me, but I slumped down in my chair and held my head in my hands. I was shaking. My heart was racing and I realized that tears were streaming down my face.
I no longer cared that I hated big romantic displays of public affection. I no longer cared that romantic reunions made me cringe and that crying in public felt like the worse thing in the world. I no longer cared about anything else but running as fast as I could, through the airport, tears streaming down my face, pushing people out of the way and looking for Andrew. I’d never run so fast in my life, and when I saw him round the corner I’d never been so happy to see anyone before.
‘ANDREW!’ I screamed. People looked, and I didn’t give a fuck. ‘I LOVE YOU!’ I screamed again. Andrew put down the bag he was carrying and held his arms open as I streamed ahead. I flung myself at him, and the second he wrapped his arms around meI knew.I absolutely, utterly, wholly, without exception, no reservations, categorically, definitely, unquestionably, undoubtedly, positively and every other synonymknewthat I loved him and this was where I was meant to be.
CHAPTER46
Four months later
‘We should just get married,’ I said, looking down at Andrew as he took the lid off the engine on the gate.
‘What?’ He stopped what he was doing and peered up at me.
‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think it would be a good idea to get married.’
