The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

A couple of families with day bags traipsed past them.

The ferry tooted its horn.

“Thank you again, Callum. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

Belkin turned and made his way along the short boardwalk until the young man in the sweater took him by his arm and helped him onto the ferry.

Minutes later, he sat at the front of the open deck, the wind in his face, headed across the twelve miles of water for two perfect weeks of solitude.

Rob held Mary’s hand as they walked the short distance to Georgina’s.

Inside, Georgina took Rob’s hands and gazed into his eyes.

“Was it the same for you, waking up this morning and hoping it was all a nightmare?”

He nodded.

“He adored you, Robert. I know you had your difficulties recently, but that doesn’t matter.”

She looked around the room, apparently to make sure their son Charlie was out of earshot. “He loved Charlie, of course, but he would have loved to see him join the Air Force. I think that’s why he liked you so much.”

Rob screwed up his eyes and willed the tears to stop.

“I’m sorry, Georgina.”

Georgina hugged him. “It’s OK to cry, whatever they tell you.” She kissed him tenderly on his forehead.

Rob sat on the sofa. He took some deep breaths and regained his composure.

A strong shaft of sunlight streamed through the front window; again, he found himself mesmerised by the swirling particles of dust.

He was once told that dust in a house is discarded skin cells.

So, in a way, Millie was with them in the room.

The image of the outstretched arm pushed its way back into his mind.

Why had he gone to look?

He wondered if the fire had consumed the bodies after he’d left.

Mary sat down next to him.

“You alright?”

He shook his head.

Across the room, Georgina laughed.

“How does she do it? She’s stronger than me.”

“Nonsense, she’s just better at putting on a show. Plus, it’s different for her, isn’t it? You were there. It must have been awful, Rob.”

He turned to her and whispered. “It’s worse than anything you imagine. And there’s something else. Something truly awful about it all.”

“What?” Mary asked, her face etched with anxiety.

He bowed his head and whispered. “I’ve got this awful feeling, like I’ve been handed a life sentence to carry out in secret.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone else is dead, but I know the truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr May?”

A wiry, ginger haired twenty-year-old stood over them.

“Charlie.” Rob stood up and offered his hand to Millie’s son. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. You must be devastated.”

“Thank you, Mr May. Yes, it was a terrible shock. If you don’t mind, I’d like to know what happened. My mother has warned me not to ask.” He glanced over nervously toward Georgina.

Rob smiled. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

In the small dining room, they sat close to each other at one corner of the polished oak table.

"We were at low-level. A routine trial flight, I suppose, but in our business, your father’s business, there really is no such thing as routine.

“We were about ten minutes into a run through central Wales, the hills higher than us both sides.” Charlie looked alarmed. “I’m making it sound more daredevil than it really is. Much of the RAF’s flying is at low-level now, even lower than the three hundred feet we go down to in the Vulcan.

“Anyway, something went wrong. A glancing blow from an outcrop, we think. It damaged the left side of the aircraft, left us with no ability to control it.” He paused, picking his way through the most delicate part. “It happened quickly. The aircraft dived. We had no option, we had to eject or stay with the aircraft.”

“And father?”

Rob looked down at his shoes.

“The Vulcan. The emergency egress for the rear crew was designed by men who believed it would be used at high level. If something went wrong at thirty thousand feet, they would have minutes to release the hatch and bale out. But at low-level… I’m sorry, Charlie. Your father and Steve Bright, they had no chance. No chance at all. At least it would have been instant.”

Charlie screwed his eyes closed, then opened them again.

Rob held out his hand, clasping his shoulder.

“Why did they fly at low-level if the men in the back couldn’t get out?”

Rob had no answer.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

They sat in silence for a while as Charlie dabbed his eyes with a blue handkerchief.

“I am so pleased you got to see your father a couple of weeks ago.”

Charlie looked confused. “But I haven’t seen him since Easter.”

Rob furrowed his brow. “I thought he visited you in Oxford the Saturday before last?”

Charlie shook his head. “No.”

“Ah, there you are!” Georgina appeared in the doorway. “Charlie, darling, there are people here who want to remark on how much you’ve grown since you were four years old.”

“Thank you, Mr May.” Charlie followed his mother into the living room.

Rob rose to rejoin the group just as Georgina popped her head back into the room.

“Rob, I think you should take Millie’s work bits, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, I can come back with the car later.”

He and Mary left the house as more of Georgina’s relatives and old friends turned up.

“You accumulate a lot of friends in the RAF,” said Mary, as they walked back toward their own quarter.

“Yes,” replied Rob, “and you lose a lot as well.”

It was a warm day, and Rob fastened back the soft canvas top of his Healey.

He ached from the ejection, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength for meetings with anyone, let alone Kilton.

The low car barely skimmed over the surface of the single-track road that led to the main gate.

He slowed for a group of walkers ahead. They held banners, and tatty white sheeting painted with black CND symbols.

The group ambled toward him; clearly, they had no intention of letting him pass. He put two wheels on the verge and pulled on the handbrake.

They drifted past. He was conspicuous, sitting in his open-top