“And you’re?—?”
“Thirty-five.”
Eleven years older than me. No wonder he’s so much calmer than me. That and he’s not scared of flying.
He continues chatting to me while I finish the bread. I try the chicken, which is nice but too rich for my stomach right now. The air steward who’s been looking out for me checks on me again as she clears our trays away.
“We’ve got some bread rolls left if you want another?” she offers.
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
She smiles, nods, and carries on with her work.
“Maybe I should watch a film or something,” I muse. “Then you could do whatever it is you usually do on flights, rather than worrying about me.”
“If you want to. You don’t have to. I’m enjoying myself.”
It’s sweet that he keeps saying that, but I don’t see how it can possibly be true.
The plane shudders, judders, and rumbles. I’d finally relinquished my grip on the seat, but now I grab the arms again, clinging on so tightly it hurts.
“It’s just a little turbulence. It’s nothing to worry about,” Emmet says.
“It feels like the plane’s going to drop out of the sky.”
“It’s not. I promise.” He gestures to the flight attendants. “See how they’re still working?”
I nod.
“If there was a problem, they wouldn’t be clearing trays without a care in the world.”
His logic is sound, but it doesn’t comfort me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve apologized to him.
“You don’t need to be.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Turbulence can be scary, but the plane is built to withstand it. It’s bumpy air. That’s all.”
“How can air be bumpy?”
“I think it’s to do with changes in air pressure. Something like that, anyway. I’ve always thought of it like driving along an uneven road.”
“We have lots of those in the UK,” I mutter. “I don’t drive, though. Never learnt.”
The plane stops rattling. I breathe deeply and slowly to calm myself. It helps, but not as much as Emmet stroking the back of my hand.
“Do you think you could sleep?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“What if I helped?”
I frown. “Helped how?”
He unfastens his seat belt and retrieves his bag from the overhead locker. “You can borrow these, for a start.” He hands me a pair of expensive-looking over-the-ear headphones and an eye mask, which is soft and cool. Is it satin or silk? Wow. “They’re noise-canceling headphones.”
“I couldn’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” He leans down and retrieves one of the blankets from the spare seat next to him and removes it from the plastic wrapper. “I find being all tucked up helps me relax.”
“All tucked up?”
