Evie was talking to herself. In the airport lounge, sitting with a caramel latte that tasted like creamy pudding. She decided that she was telling herself it was delicious and she liked this modern coffee. As she stared at the froth in the cup an hour later, a clipped voice announced over the speakers that the plane would be delayed for an hour.
She drank two more coffees, visited the toilet twice and, when she sat down again, she noticed her hands were shaking. She watched as other passengers picked up luggage and moved excitedly as if flying was quite normal. Her breathing had become shallow and she wondered if she shouldn’t buy herself a small brandy. When they called her flight number, she whispered to herself that people flew on planes every day and what on earth was she so worried about.
In the aeroplane, sitting by the window, lost in thought, she muttered to herself that flying in an aeroplane was quite safe, nothing bad ever happened, well, not often, only in the films. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, to take her life in her hands and fly in a plane, to do something she’d never done by herself, to be up in the air for over an hour and to go shopping with her winnings. She’d never been on an aeroplane alone before, but she didn’t regret it, no, not at all.
Other people were looking at her. She was becoming one of those mad old ladies who talked to themselves because they had nobody else to listen. The flight to John Lennon Airport would only take a short time, it would soon be over and she would touch down in England. The last flight she had made was with Jim to Majorca five years ago and she had squeezed his hand all the way there.
Jim. Evie shook her head; he had been alive last year, but gaunt and coughing in a hospital bed. The sheets were a shroud the day he died and when she returned home the house still smelled of stale cigarettes and the aftershave he wore, once warm and alive. It was a summer day but everywhere was filled with cold.
She fiddled with her safety belt. ‘Calm down now, Evie. There’s nothing at all to worry about. It’ll be grand once you get there.’
‘We’re sitting here, love – all right?’ A red-haired young man indicated the two seats next to her; one held her handbag. He had a Liverpool accent. Evie nodded towards him, wondering if he had heard her talking to herself. He sat down next to her with his friend, who was smaller and dark-haired. Evie huddled towards the window and stared out again. On the tarmac, some people in uniforms were moving luggage on a trolley. The young men slid down in their seats. The red-haired one in the centre next to her tucked his legs under the seat in front of him and withdrew them again, crossing them uncomfortably, and he gave a little laugh.
‘We’ll get a bevvy when we take off, Paul?’ He nudged his friend. Then he turned to Evie.
‘I’m Danny; this is Paul.’ The dark-haired one, Paul, bobbed his head at her.
‘I’m Evie Gallagher. I’m going shopping to Liverpool and I’ve never been on a plane by myself—’ The plane began to rumble and the vibrations rattled in her chest, making her suck in air. ‘Oh my …’ She felt the plane lurch and then the engine juddered. Her fingers twisted around the arms of her seat.
Danny gave his little laugh again, relaxing in his seat, the safety belt riding up towards his chest. The plane accelerated along the runway and she was forced backwards. Evie brought her hands to her mouth. Her eyes were wide.
‘This was meant to be a little break,’ she said. ‘I haven’t travelled by myself before. I believe Liverpool’s very good for shopping.’
The young men exchanged looks and glanced at Evie, who was pressing bloodless palms together. Danny gave another reassuring giggle. His eyes shone as an idea came to him.
‘Eh, Paul, tell Evie the one about that nightclub we were in, and you needed the toilet and you went outside, and that copper stopped you in the road …’
‘You tell her, Dan.’
Evie pressed her nose against the window. Beneath her the plane shook. The sky was moving towards her; she was hurtling towards clouds. Danny launched into his story.
‘Well, Evie, Paul here had had a real skinful, and this copper came over, from Dublin like, and Paul was swaying around like this …’
Everything below was small and the plane rocked to one side, its wing drooping. Danny took the opportunity to continue with his tale.
‘So, Paul was bursting and looking for some place to – you know. And this copper seen we was Scousers and came over to have a go at us and he says – in this dead deep Irish voice, like – he says, “Well, what do you think you’re up to, eh lads …?”’
At this point, Paul laughed out loud at Danny’s attempt at an Irish accent. Evie saw clouds through the window, hovering fat pillows, and she wondered how it was possible to be so far from the world she knew. Paul and Danny were waiting for her attention, so that Danny could continue.
‘So, Paul says to this copper, “Eh, pal, I need a burst,” and the copper gets cross and says to me and Paul, he says, “Now, me lads, what’s your names?” and Paul looks at me and he starts to stutter and he says, “Eh, eh, don’t tell him your name, Danny.” And then he falls flat on his face.’
Danny and Paul were squirming in their seats, red-faced. Evie stared at them for a moment, and then she started to laugh too. She breathed out, put her hands in her lap and sat back in her seat. Danny offered his chuckle again. ‘So, Evie, you all right?’
Evie looked at Danny’s concerned face.
‘You were proper pale back there. I was dead worried. I thought you were going to be sick.’
Paul agreed.
‘I’m fine now, thank you.’
‘So how’s about we get something off the drinks trolley, then? Calm your nerves a bit?’
The stewardess was level with them, smart in her blue suit. She glanced at Danny and Paul, and then looked across at Evie. ‘Is everything all right, Madam?’
‘Fine thanks.’ Evie nodded towards the trolley. ‘I could do with a drink though.’
Paul chimed in. ‘I’m buying – what you having, Evie?’
The hostess looked askance at the two young men, her face conveying something like suspicion. Evie ignored her and offered to buy a bottle of champagne.
Twenty minutes later, Evie and her new friends had drunk a bottle of Veuve de something; she had taught them to say ‘Sláinte’, which both Paul and Danny were repeating loudly as they waved glasses. Evie waved over to the stewardess and ordered a second bottle, explaining with a confidential whisper, ‘It’s a special occasion. You’re only young once.’
The stewardess leaned over, which made the boys double over, given the proximity of her uniformed torso. She spoke gently. ‘Are you sure everything is all right, Madam?’ She was smiling with her mouth but her eyes appeared anxious.
‘Thank you, everything is grand now we have another bottle.’
‘Of course, Madam.’
She took out the champagne from the ice bucket, uncorked it and turned to Danny and Paul, who cheered when they saw the bubbles froth over. ‘Please can you keep the noise down? You’re disturbing other passengers.’
The boys burst out laughing again. ‘Got a couple of packs of Pringles, love? I’m starving,’ said Danny and they began to toast Paul’s birthday and the joys of flying.
Evie was oblivious to the changes outside as the plane started its descent. Paul was asleep, his trout mouth puffing out air. Danny, noticing the plane’s trajectory, looked furtively at Evie to check she was calm and then began extolling the virtues of Steven Gerrard’s free kick and how his slip-up against Chelsea had cost him the Premiership title before he retired. Evie was smiling, but there was a whistling sensation in her ears and a nagging feeling that she might find her route out of Liverpool Airport a little difficult to negotiate.
‘I liked him, that John Lennon one,’ she mused. ‘It was a bloody shame they shot him.’
‘Whereabouts you going in Liverpool, Evie?’
Danny raised an eyebrow, pushing Paul upright, before his head flopped onto Danny’s shoulder.
‘I need to find myself a hotel for a few days. Can you recommend …?’
‘Yeh, no probs – we’ll get you a taxi to the city centre when we get out, won’t we, Paul?’
Paul continued to sleep, a snore rattling in his mouth. The wheels on the plane bumped against the runway; the brakes came on and Danny took up the conversation quickly. ‘So, you doing anything special in Liverpool, Evie? Besides shopping.’
Evie wasn’t sure. So she said, ‘Yes. I’m visiting my son.’
‘Oh? Does he live in Liverpool?’
She considered for a moment. ‘No, he’s meeting me there.’ She had drunk too much and suddenly mischief popped like a champagne cork in her head. ‘He’s a rock star.’
Danny looked directly at Evie. ‘A rock star? Anyone famous?’
Danny’s face loomed drunk and earnest. It was time for another small performance. Evie sat upright, stretched her arms and swept a hand through her hair. ‘Oh yes, my son’s quite famous. I’m sure you’ll have heard of him. He’s a singer and he plays with his band all over the world. He’s called Bono.’
Danny sat up straight, jerking Paul to a seated position. They stared at each other. Paul blinked and Danny poked him with his elbow and gave a little laugh.
‘Bloody hell, Paul,’ breathed Danny. ‘We just got drunk with Bono’s ma.’