She takes a couple of mints herself, then puts them in her bag, then moves the bag contents around again quite a lot (surely unnecessarily?) and then asks, ‘Sooooo, do you like flying?’
I washopingto get through a lot of emails and then sleep on this flight. I like flights when they’re either productive or relaxing.
‘Depends,’ I say. Mainly on turbulence and who I’m sitting next to. Flavia is showing all the signs of not being a great aeroplane companion.
I wouldreallylike to say something that indicates that I’d love to pass this flight in silence so that I can get some work done, and obviously a good night’s sleep, except the nervousness in her (still very beautiful) brown eyes and the way her hands are clutching at her bag cause me – annoyingly – to feel guilty. I could obviously in realityspare a couple of moments to talk to her, if she needs to be calmed down.
I make a quick note on my phone about how I’m going to reply to the unrealistic email, and then observe, ‘You must have taken a lot of flights over the past few years.’ I know that she continued to travel after her year in Kazakhstan, before then settling in Australia. How can she be a nervous flyer with all those air miles under her belt?
‘Yes, but fewer than you’d think. I always do trains and boats when I can. Ihateflying.’ Her voice is actually slightly trembling.
‘It’s the safest form of travel.’ I do know that there’s absolutely no point in saying it, because the whole point about phobias is that they’re irrational, but, also, it’strue.
Flavia shakes her head. ‘Yes, but also no,’ she says. ‘Yes, there are the statistics, but they don’t tell the whole story, do they? Some airlines and routes are safer than others. And if a planedoesgo down that’s it. Whereas if you’re in a boat, train or road vehicle crash, it’s rare thateveryonedies.’
‘That is true,’ I concede, ‘but the whole point is that wewon’tgo down.’
‘And why won’t we?’
‘Erm, because statistically the chances of it happening are vanishingly close to zero?’
‘You’re very over-rational,’ she says disapprovingly. ‘Some planesdogo down. Therefore oursmight.’
‘You’re terrifying me now,’ says a woman from the row behind into the gap between our seats.
‘See,’ says Flavia. ‘Other people agree.’
I struggle not to roll my eyes.
‘Something that helps me,’ says the woman from behind, ‘is thinking that it is what it is. If this is our time, we’d have died in a car crash or from a heart attack or something instead.’
Flavia turns and peers through the gap.
‘Hi.’ I see her smile at the woman, and feel irritated by how much I still like that smile. I shouldn’t be liking things about Flavia in that way. There should clearly not be any kind of romance between us on this trip, and no-one enjoys feeling uncomfortable temptation.
‘Hello.’ The woman behind has obviously been struck by the full force of Flavia’s smile.
‘For me, I’m not sure that’s right,’ Flavia begins. ‘It’s like the theory of predestination. I don’t want to believe that no matter what choices I make or actions I take the outcome will be the same.’
‘God, you’re right.’ The woman’s voice rises. ‘So we’re basically in a dangerous vehicle for no good reason.’
‘A British Airways aeroplane is not a dangerous vehicle,’ I point out.
Flavia shakes her head. ‘Sorry, but first of all there’s the worry that something might go wrong during take-off. Then there’s the whole how-does-it-even-stay-in-the-air thing. Like what if it runs out of fuel or we’re hit by a drone or a bird or a terrorist blows us up? And then there’s landing, which is also dangerous.’
‘Oh, God,’ the woman behind moans.
‘Nonsense,’ I say. ‘A terrorist could blow you up anywhere and there are very, very stringent checks now at airports, so really you’re way safer here than almost anywhere else.’
The woman moans again.
‘No. I…’ Flavia suddenly stops talking. Maybe she’s realised that it really won’t help anyone if she flips the woman behind into screaming terror, something that to me seems like a very real possibility. She twists fully round to face the seat gap again. ‘On reflection, you’re completely right when you say it is what it is. You’ve made me feel a lot better. It’s all going to be fine. I feel very calm now. Thank you so much.’ She presents the woman with another blinding smile and then turns back to me and whispers, ‘She issowrong.’
I sigh. I am going to have to engage with Flavia or she’s going to have a terrible flight, and clearly statistics are not the way to go.
‘You know what I think.’ I inject as much soulfulness into my voice as I can. ‘I think we’re all in this together. I think the pilot sounds like a lovely man. I think there are a lot of lovely people on this plane. Wewon’tgo down, but if wedo, which wewon’t, we’ll be together. We’ll go to our next adventure, in the afterlife, at the same time. With some really great people. But also, I think the pilot sounds like a man who has a lot more life to live. I think he’s going to keep us very safe. But the main thing to remember is that we’re all in this together.’ I am talking so much crap it’s beyond belief.
‘Hmm.’ Flavia studies my face. ‘That – as you say – is lovely.’
