The Final Flight by James Blatch (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📗

ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”

A thunderous noise erupted above them, and the sun was blotted out as a huge Avro Vulcan swept over and pulled up, climbing toward the clouds.

“Christ, that was low,” he said to Mary.

They were all hit by a blast of following air. Hats flew off in the swirling vortexes, grit and dirt kicked up from the ground, and men and women plugged their ears, too late against the roar.

The flypast had been recklessly low, and the vicar and crowd had ducked. But as they rose up again, gathered their hats, and picked the dirt from their eyes, laughter and cheers rippled forward from the back of the crowd.

Georgina turned, smiling at Rob.

“What fun!” she mouthed at him, and he broke into a broad smile.

The coffin was lowered. The vicar picked up a clump of earth and dropped it. Georgina and Charlie did the same.

Mary used her hand to guide Rob a step forward; he bent down to scoop up his own fistful of soil.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a cracked and weak voice, as he released the earth onto the coffin of Christopher Milford.

As they walked from the grave, Rob pressed himself close to Mary, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her tightly against him.

“I’ve never needed you more,” he said.

She pushed her arm around his waist; it felt good.

“Are we back together?” he whispered.

She looked at him, their faces an inch apart. He smelt her sweet breath and wallowed in a moment of intimacy.

“Everything’s changed. Just act normally, follow along.” She snapped her head forward and unentangled her arm, looking nervous.

Confused, Rob looked around, searching for Susie. Finally, he spotted her next to Red Brunson. They were already through the gate, ahead and beyond the policemen who were waiting for him.

He couldn’t take his eyes from Red and Susie together, but as he and Mary arrived at the police car, a door opened, and they were ushered into the backseat.

The security men climbed into the front, and the sergeant in the passenger seat turned to them.

“You’ll be dropped at the officers’ mess. We will wait outside until you wish to leave, at which point we will escort you off the station. We can give you a lift somewhere nearby.”

Before Rob could answer, Mary spoke up. “I’ve arranged a lift from the mess with Lieutenant Brunson.”

“Fine, but we’ll still have to escort the vehicle off the station. It’s our orders.”

“I understand,” she said.

Rob stayed silent.

They passed through the gates to RAF West Porton; the car drove directly to the front door of the mess.

Rob climbed out, as mourners walked past from the car park.

Inside the mess, they made their way to the large anteroom, securing the early pickings at the buffet and wine. But Rob wasn’t hungry.

The room filled quickly and the chatter level rose.

Rob tried to talk to Mary again, but she warned him off with a stern look and a shake of the head.

Before he knew it, the room was packed, and Rob could see only the few people directly around him, and there was no-one he knew well.

Red Brunson appeared, pushing through the throng.

Brunson’s eyes locked with Rob’s but then darted to his left, urging Rob to look behind him.

Mark Kilton followed him.

Rob stiffened.

Kilton stopped to talk to a group; he was only a few yards away.

From behind Red’s frame, Susie Attenborough stepped out.

Red ushered her forward.

“This is Susan Wilson. She worked with Millie at Boscombe Down.”

Susie put out her hand. Rob stared, eventually taking the cue and shaking it.

“Hello,” he managed.

“I’m so sorry for you all. I hadn’t seen Millie for some time, but he was the perfect gentleman and we are all very upset.”

“He was,” said Red.

A waiter appeared with a tray of white wine. Susie took a glass, along with Mary. But Red Brunson sipped from an orange juice.

“I’m flying later,” he told Rob, and looked at him, apparently waiting for a reaction.

The final flight of project Guiding Light.

Rob stared at Susie, but she was looking elsewhere.

There was some shuffling in the crowd to their right as Georgina arrived into the room with Charlie. Kilton left the nearby group to greet them.

A moment later, a cheer went up, and Rob turned to see Jock MacLeish arrive, all smiles as he received several slaps on the back.

“What’s that about?” he asked Red.

“The flypast,” Red said, beaming.

“Low, loud and probably illegal,” one of the TFU pilots nearby said. “But just about the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Millie would have loved it,” Rob said, laughing.

A couple more men from TFU joined them, ushering their wives away.

Rob got a few polite greetings from his former colleagues. But no-one asked him where he had been or what was happening to him.

The temperature in the room rose. He felt dizzy.

He stood alone in a crowd.

Red was talking to Susie. Mary moved away.

Either it was his imagination, or the other chaps around him were turning their backs on him, one by one.

He was now boxed in with Red and Susie.

Red grabbed his arm to get his attention.

“How you doing, buddy?”

Rob’s head swam. “Not good. I think I might faint.”

Red’s grip on his arm became firmer. Susie moved alongside him.

“Susie…” His voice cracked.

He leant forward, but she pushed him away.

“We don’t have time for that. Listen. My people. They’re not going to do anything.”

“I know.”

“You should have told me,” Red said to him. “You shouldn’t have done this alone. What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I could say anything to anyone. And now it’s too late.”

Susie’s hand appeared on his arm. “Not necessarily.”

Rob looked back at Red. “But the final flight. It’s today, isn’t it?”

One of the men with his back to them leaned over.

“Kilton!”

Red spoke with a sense of urgency. “Do you want a last chance? It won’t be easy and it’s risky, but it’s up to you, buddy.”

“What do you mean?”

Red continued. “Say yes. You’re going to have to trust