‘Do you like flying? You must be used to it, coming all the way from Australia.’
‘Love it. Night-time is best, with winds dying down along with thermal turbulence so that you just glide through the air, with stars coming out, realising earth is just another spherical mass… it kind of gives you perspective, right?’
‘True. It’s so easy to believe that the world revolves around us – until we leave it and realise we are nothing but a tiny cog in a huge machine.’
‘Not that cogs aren’t important. Cogs have needs. Cogs have feelings – even teeny tiny ones.’ He caught my eye and we laughed. He stared at my hands again, which were clenched together. ‘Statistically, this is the safest form of travel,’ he said in a soft tone.
‘It’s still fairly new to me. I only started flying abroad a couple of years ago, with my flatmate Oliver. I never had foreign holidays when I was little.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I threw up the first time I flew. I was seven. It was Easter and I’d secretly scoffed a huge chocolate egg before boarding. The turbulence didn’t agree with my digestive system.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Nor did its contents with the passenger in front. The poor woman was wearing white shoes. The whole cabin stank afterwards.’
Laughing loudly, I became aware we were up in the sky. Nik leant in as the air steward trundled towards us with a jingling drinks trolley. The aroma of coffee energised me and we each accepted a cup, both taking no milk and just one sugar. The two of us sipped and gave a contented sigh before chatting about Nuremberg. My shoulders relaxed as the conversation flowed. There weren’t any awkward silences and we had plenty of laughs. I’d heard people talk about it before – meeting someone you felt as if you’d known for years. That instant connection, like… I glanced down at my lap… like two halves of a seatbelt clicking together. I thought I’d had it once before.
Not wanting to think about that now, I bought a large bar of chocolate from the duty-free list, wishing I’d had time to grab breakfast. I shared some of it with Nik before we lapsed into comfortable work talk again about how his family’s company favoured making traditional products.
‘I loved that wooden clock you were holding, when I boarded,’ he said.
‘It’s for my gran. She used to collect wooden ornaments and would always look for unusual decorative ones for our Christmas tree when I was younger. She’s a huge fan of the festive season. Gran’s a keen reader and would read all of the new children’s festive releases with me. We spent many a cosy December Saturday in the library.’
‘Do you see much of her now?’
‘Yes but we no longer live together. She moved into an assisted living facility four years ago. She still enjoys Christmas to the full, though. Every December they hold a huge Christmas Eve party. The residents start preparing for it as early as January, buying in cheap craft materials during the sales and, as the months pass, testing out new festive recipes in the communal kitchen for the buffet they put on. They also research different themes. Then in early November a meeting is held to vote for the best one.’
‘Why leave it that late to decide?’ he asked.
‘So that it ramps up the excitement in the weeks before the big day… Last year’s theme was a masquerade ball. The year before a Downton Abbey one.
‘It sounds ace. Christmas really is the best time of year. My family and I are often too busy to go to parties, going into overdrive completing the production of extra orders of toys that no one predicted would be quite so popular. Not that I mind. It’s worth it if I’m out and spot a kid playing with one of our products.’
Before I could answer the pilot announced we were about to land. How had that happened? Nik had turned hours into minutes. We tightened our seatbelts and I stashed the remainder of the chocolate into my handbag. I gripped the arm rests. Nik pulled a funny face and I couldn’t help grinning. Eventually my rapid breathing slowed as he went on to tell a really bad joke, me shaking my head when he delivered the punchline. Relief surged through me as I realised the plane had touched down. When we came to a standstill, a whistling Nik passed down my hand luggage from the overhead cabin, slipped on his anorak and grabbed his rucksack. The air stewards beamed as he thanked them for a great journey. We disembarked and walked into the large, impersonal terminal, hit by the hustle bustle and flight announcements over the intercom. My stomach rumbled as I followed Nik who navigated the crowd easily as he stood a good head above anyone else.
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