Authors: Cate Kendall
Sam leapt out of his seat and tore through the curtains
to the galley. Bella was crouched over Asif. She had an
oxygen tank with her and was fitting a mask over his face.
She looked up at Sam. They both knew words were a
waste of valuable air. Sam started to feel foggy. His lungs
were burning. Asif took a breath and came to. He looked
at the others and put up a thumb to indicate he was okay.
Bella took a breath from the tank's second regulator and
passed it on to Sam, who also took a breath. The rush of
oxygen cleared his brain.
'What happened?' he asked. She shrugged as she took
the mask back from him and breathed.
'Some kind of explosion. Look up the aisle.' The cause
of the constant scream of wind became obvious as Sam saw
the hole ripped through the floor.
'We have to cover it before it gets even bigger,' he
shouted.
'But how?' she asked.
The captain's voice on the PA was competing with
the chaos. 'Everyone, please remain calm. It's essential
you do not panic. I have control of the aircraft. I repeat,
I have control of the aircraft.' His commanding tone
convinced the passengers to accept his order and as the
squealing, wailing and crying began to calm somewhat,
they realised the plane, although descending, was doing it
in a controlled way, not in a nosedive, end-of-the-world
kind of way.
Sam scanned the area around him. His eyes rested on
a large silver serving platter. The hole was the size of a
bowling ball. The platter might just do it. He approached
the tear in the floor and slapped the tray down. It immediately
buckled in the centre as the suction tried to pull
it out.
Sam returned to Bella and gratefully accepted the
oxygen mask from her. She in turn took Asif's from his
outstretched hand.
'We need more of a barrier, that's not going to be
enough,' Sam said. 'It'll be sucked out any minute.'
'The seats?' Bella suggested.
'Do they come off?' Sam asked.
'We can try,' Bella said and Asif nodded, his face as
white as the laminate on the cupboard doors of the galley.
'The captain should have us at a safe altitude within
minutes,' she added.
Just then a high-pitched scream came from the business
class section. 'Shot at shot at shot at!' The wails came louder
and louder.
'We've got a situation back there,' Sam told Bella and
Asif. 'A guy's completely lost it. You guys work on releasing
one of the seats. I'll go and see what I can do with the
panicked one.'
As Sam went past his own seat, he glanced over at
Steven Blakely, who was texting again. Who could think
of work at a time like this?
The businessman was up and standing in the aisle. He
saw Sam coming and pushed into him. 'Parachute, I need
a parachute, I need to get off this plane. WE'RE GOING
DOWN, DO YOU HEAR ME, WE'RE GOING
DOWN!'
Sam knew panic was more infectious than any disease
and potentially more deadly. The other passengers joined
in with the hysterical screaming and clung to each other in
desperation.
Sam grabbed the man by the shoulders. 'We're not
going down. The captain has the plane under control.
We're about to hit breathable altitude, but you need to sit
down and get your mask on.' Sam grabbed the man's mask
and gulped a lungful with the intention of handing it over
and placing it on the passenger's head.
'No!' The man screamed in terror. 'That's mine, that's
my oxygen, give it here, give it to me.' His powerful arms
thrashed out. Sam ducked but got the bloke's forearm in
the ear and side of his head. Stars swam in front of his eyes
for a moment before he regained clarity.
'For God's sake, calm down,' Sam said. He put his arms
out to steady the guy but again, the man tried to punch
him. Sam defended himself by landing a crack on the guy's
nose. The man's head ricocheted back, his eyes swum back
into his skull and he sank down into his seat into blissful
unconsciousness. Sam, after taking one more breath, put
the oxygen mask over the man's now relaxed face and
rushed back to the first-class section.
Bella and Asif were wrestling with a crew seat. 'It's
only two large bolts, here and here, and we can get it off,'
Bella said, offering the small spanner to Sam. He quickly
unscrewed the first bolt but the second one was jammed.
His thumb caught in between the seat and the bolt as
the fastener folded back onto itself, catching Sam's thumb
in its grip. He swore as the blood sprang from his hand.
An eerie crunch forced Sam and Bella to look at the hole.
The heavy stainless steel tray was sucked out like a sheet
of tinfoil. Only a curved lip of metal remained visible. 'It's
gonna suck through,' Sam shouted.
The trio pulled on the seat until the second bolt
snapped. They grabbed the seat and flung it over the silver
tray just as it was sucked out into the baggage hold, which
presumably had a hole in its side much bigger than the one
in the cabin. The vacuum from the hole greedily grabbed
the seat and it held fast.
The captain's voice filled the now quieter cabin. 'Ladies
and gentlemen, we are flying at fourteen hundred feet. The
cabin should be filling with oxygen but I highly recommend
you keep your oxygen masks on until we land. We
have emergency clearance at Darwin International Airport
and we will be landing in approximately six minutes.'
The passengers gave a half-hearted cheer, but weren't
prepared to really believe they were safe until they were
on solid ground.
The calloused thumb of Steven Blakely spread the
word of the hopeful conclusion of the drama to fifty
million readers, viewers and listeners within twenty-seven
seconds.
.
Chris Bath continued to look out at her unseen audience in
concern as she repeated the same words she'd been saying
for the last fifteen minutes. Sera and Tony stood in the
middle of the living room, transfixed by her commentary.
They were holding their breath, for the next update, each
in their own bubble of worry, alone in their thoughts, not
daring to let their imaginations play this drama out to its
inevitable conclusion.
A disembodied arm handed the newsreader a piece of
paper. 'News just in,' the on-air reporter said to the camera.
Sera and Tony grabbed for each other's hands. 'Air Australia
Flight 96 has landed safely at Darwin International Airport.
Reuters journalist Steven Blakely, on board at the time of
the drama, reports that the hole in the airplane is likely to
have been caused by an oxygen canister, similar to the incident
aboard a Qantas 747 last year. One passenger has been
reported as injured and one crew member has also suffered
minor injuries. To repeat, the air emergency is over. The
Air Australia flight, on which an explosion took place thirteen
minutes ago, has landed safely in Darwin.
'If you've just tuned in, late this afternoon on a routine
Air Australia flight to Hong Kong . . .'
Sera felt her knees buckle in relief. Sheer nervous
tension had been all that had kept her standing for the last
thirty minutes. Tony sensed her weakness and leaned in
with strong arms to support her weight. His solid presence
allowed her the safe place to unleash and the tears flowed.
She was so lucky to have him, to have this beautiful supportive
man here by her side during such a traumatic moment.
She needed him so much right now and, as always, he was
here. She felt a sudden rush of horror. What if it had been
him on that plane? She sobbed into his arms for what might
have been and out of relief for what hadn't.
Maddy and Harry came running down the stairs into the
room. 'Mum, what's wrong? Why are you crying?' Maddy
demanded. 'Why are you sad?' Harry asked.
'They're not sad tears, darling,' Sera said and she peeped
out from her husband's embrace. 'Happy tears.'
*
The fright was over. They were safe. Joan stripped off her
gloves and hurried home to be with her family. Jacqueline
turned off the television and leaned against the wall in sheer
exhaustion. Everything became so clear. In the last thirty
minutes her list of priorities had just been thrown into the
air like a deck of cards and had landed in a completely different
order.
Suddenly petits fours, puff pastry and BAS statements
seemed petty and irrelevant, and re-connecting with her
family stood on the top like a beacon.
She walked down the corridor and leaned on the study
door to look fondly at her husband. He had been glued to
the television like the rest of the country, and was watching
the passengers disembark.
She moved across the room and knelt at his feet. He
dragged his eyes away from the screen in surprise. 'What?'
he asked.
Jacqueline turned away from him and, sitting on the floor
with her back against the couch, said, 'I'd love a massage.'
'Oh, sure, dear,' Thomas said and his strong, gentle
hands kneaded the drama's stresses from his wife's shoulders
while they watched a passenger being wheeled away on an
ambulance gurney.
*
Mallory squealed and cheered with the rest of the patients,
nurses and physios who'd come in to watch the drama
unfold on the only screen in the clinic. She gabbled explanations
to all present about her relationship with those on
board. Her audience hungrily gobbled up the story of Sam
being a last-minute passenger.
She was so happy, so ridiculously joyous and happy! She
couldn't describe it to herself. She'd been so black and dark
and miserable and, well, quite frankly, depressed lately, that
this wonderful feeling of gaiety was intoxicating by comparison.
Forget about walking, she felt like she could fly!
What a waste of energy being bitter about Vince and his
pregnant girlfriend. Who gave a shit about them anyway?
Live and let live: let them play their happy families, let
them live their lives. All Mallory could think about was that
Sam and Bella were safe, that the plane full of people were
alive and that the terrible crisis had ended.
'Hey, Francesca,' she said, 'check this out,' and she
picked up her crutches. She did ten steps across the room
before her body needed to support itself on the metal
frames.
'Wonderful!' her therapist cried out and the room
cheered her on.
*
Chantrea sank into one of the lounges at Gate 10, away
from the hordes still glued to the screen. It was every flight
attendant's nightmare. Thank God it was over. She shook
her head in shame. She'd been such a selfish cow. What if
that had been her on that flight? What if it hadn't turned
out well? Her mother would raise Sally and Chantrea had
to be one hundred percent convinced that was a good
thing. Her mother was a wonderful woman; yes, raised in a
different time, in a different place, in a different culture, but
both Dara Kim and Chantrea had one very solid thing in
common: they loved Sally fiercely and would do anything
for her. All Dara Kim wanted was what Chantrea wanted:
for the little girl to grow into a well-rounded, happy, confident
young woman.
It was time to tell Sally about her surprise birthday
adventure. Chantrea leapt up and rushed to a quiet corner
so she could use her phone to break the exciting news to
her daughter. She wanted to speak to her mother too. She
needed to tell her how much she loved and respected her.
It was a task that was well overdue.
It was Sam's idea. The group was shaken by the mid-air
ordeal and needed to bond. Funnily enough, Bella and
Sam, as the main characters in the drama, were less rattled
than the rest of them.
Perhaps it was having been there, having survived it
together, that made them less affected than the others. Of
course it could have had something to do with the fact they
had spent the remainder of the weekend in bed together
at the Crowne Plaza Darwin and had thought of little else
but each other since.
Whatever the reason, Sam knew that it was up to him to
host an emergency extra Stitch 'n' Bitch evening so that everybody
could come over, hug each other, re-group and reassure
themselves that Sam and Bella were fine. It had been a week
since he'd returned and the catch-up was long overdue.
The December evening was warm as they collected for
pre-purl drinks in Sam's vegetable garden. The women
oohed and ahhed over Sam's garden creation, the summer
growth shooting a fine show for the group.
'Here's the fun bit,' Sam explained. 'Your hors
d'oeuvres,' and he picked a snow pea from the trellis and
popped it in his mouth. 'Cherry tomato, anyone?' he
said, gesturing at the garden bed behind them, where the
bright red baubles against the lush green growth shone like
Christmas decorations.
After the group had feasted on the organic beans, strawberries,
tomatoes and peas they moved inside to take up
their knitting. They were far more industrious nowadays
than they'd been in the beginning. The real reason for
their charity work had been pushed to the fore given recent
events and they were all determined to supply a range of
completed knitted goods to Woollies for Wars in time for
the Christmas dispatch.
Joan had given them a real rev-up too, teaching them
a range of new skills. Jacqueline was on her tenth beanie,
having long ago discarded Thomas's argyle sweater. Sera
was making her third children's blanket in a good quality
merino, while Chantrea had found woollen bed socks to
be her forte.
'So, Sam-the-Man,' Chantrea started with a twinkle in
her eye, 'how'd it go with Bella?'
'Nope!' Sam held up a flat palmed hand, 'you can all
stop right there. I do not kiss and tell. Or, in this particular
case, have the hottest, most delicious sex for twenty-four
hours straight . . . and tell.'
The women stopped their knitting as utter silence
descended on the group. They looked at him with dropped
jaws. Chantrea finally broke the silence, voicing everyone's
thoughts: 'I am so effing jealous.'
They laughed out loud, fully agreeing with her sentiment.
Even Joan nodded, wide-eyed, with an embarrassed
flush creeping up her neck.
'Would you mind? That's my sister you're talking
about,' Sera interjected.
'
Not
talking about,' Sam corrected her. 'You can hassle
me all you want, but no details will be forthcoming. End
of story.' He picked up his scarf. He was casting off a thick
wool wrap. 'Ta-dah,' he announced, holding up his finished
piece.
The room broke into applause. 'Absolutely tremendous.
Now: tassles,' Joan said, and got up to sit by Sam in order
to teach him a whole new skill.
'Well, can we at least ask where she is?' Chantrea said.
'Apparently a roster stops for no man or woman in that
industry,' Sera explained. 'She had to have a few counselling
sessions with the airline then start the LA run again.
But she really wished she could have come, and you know
what? This time I believed her.'
Just then Sam's phone rang. He grinned like a schoolboy.
'It's her!' he said and answered the phone on speaker.
'Hi Bella, you're on speaker, so no dirty talk.'
'I beg your pardon!' came Bella's voice over the phone.
'Hi everyone!'
'Hi Bella,' they all chorused.
'Hey listen team, Asif and I are at this crazy Versace
sale and of course I thought of you all. Anything and
everything's here at ridiculous prices. So how about it, little
sister, what can I get you?'
Everybody squealed and tossed their knitting aside.
'Gosh, I don't know, Bella,' said Sera. 'By the way, I
spoke to Mum, she's feeling a lot better, now her cold's
gone.'
'Great news, thanks,' Bella replied.
'Anyway, what is there?' Sera leaned towards Sam's
phone, sitting on the coffee table, as the catcalls and
screeches from the warehouse district of LA echoed around
the Bondi Junction living room.
'Belts? Bags? Tops? Frocks? You name it. What about a
tee?' offered Bella.
'Nah, I think I'm over labels at the moment,' said Sera,
to her sister's surprise. 'What about Chantrea?'
'Chantrea,' Bella said, 'there's this purple lycra skintight
dress that'd you'd love.'
'Thanks for thinking of me, Bel, but I'm budgeting.'
'Mallory? You there?' Bella asked.
'Yeah, I'm here, but I'm fine, Bella, really, I can't really
spend up at the moment.'
'What, so none of you want to take advantage of this
incredible sale?'
'Er hem,' Jacqueline tried not to call attention to herself
as she called attention to herself.
'Oh, Jac might,' Sera said.
'Jacqueline?' Bella asked, unable to hide the surprise
from her voice.
'I'm . . . er . . . not usually into Versace, it's a bit flashy.
Does anything come in navy?'
Bella laughed across the phone waves. 'Versace comes in
two colours, darling: glitz and glitzier.'
'Well, no then . . .' Jacqueline said, tucking her ballet
flats firmly under her seat.
'Oh, go on, Jac,' Sera encouraged. 'Don't you have that
Bakers' Conference coming up? You could wow them
with a bit of glamour.'
'Well yes, I do,' she admitted slowly, 'and I would
like to splurge on a little something for the new me, as it
were.'
'Jacqueline, hang on,' Bella said, 'I've got a dress here
that would be divine on you. It's gold, of course, but no
sequins. It's a satin off-the-shoulder full-length number
that clings but not tightly. It would be divine with your
colouring.'
'Oh my, it sounds heavenly,' Jacqueline said, beaming.
'How much?'
'Two and a half down to, ohmigod, four hundred!'
'Get it, get it!' Jacqueline squealed, the bargain frenzy
infecting even her.
'Okay, done, anybody else?'
Sera looked around the room. 'Joan, get something for
Joan.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Sera, they'd laugh at size
sixteen. You'd have to sew two frocks together and it still
wouldn't fit,' the older woman protested.
'Bags, heaps of bags, what colour?' Bella called out.
'NOT BLACK!' Sera, Chantrea and Jacqueline all
yelled at once.
Joan looked quite miffed at their response.
'Red?'
'Yes,' Sera said, 'that will be brilliant.'
'Red? But I don't own any red,' Joan protested.
'Joan, you don't carry a red bag with red, you carry a
red bag with taupe,' Sera explained.
'Oh,' Joan, said slightly mollified. 'I've got tons of
taupe.'
'Sounds great, Bel, good work, thanks for the call.'
*
Back in Bella's hotel room in LA, the two shoppers sorted
through their purchases.
'Look at me, I'm a supermodel,' Asif announced as he
came out of the bathroom in his new Versace suit teamed
with wasabi shirt and tie combo.
'You are, you're drop-dead gorgeous,' Bella agreed.
'Whatjaget, whatjaget?' he chanted as she opened up
her parcels.
'Beautiful dress for Jac, great bag for Joan, I bought Sera
a little top for Chrissie, and a couple of belts and shirts for
Sam.'
'For your boooyyyfriend,' Asif sang, fluttering around
the room in a circle like an executive fairy.
'Shut up, Asif,' she said as she packed everything up.
'What about you, what did you get?'
'Nothing,' Bella said.
'What?' Asif stopped mid-ponce. 'What do you mean,
nothing?'
'Nothing. Didn't feel like it.'
'You're not quitting designer, are you?'
'Well, I'm not starting the twelve-step program just yet,
don't worry. I just thought I might start saving up for a
terrace in Paddington, so I can be close to home.'