Page 24 of Somewhere Only We Know

The flight wasn’t full, which meant that Tiff and I had window seats with no one beside us, me on the row in front of her. The group boarded speedily and we were soon taxiing along the short runway.

Steve and Diane were sitting opposite, Steve at the window, taking shot after shot on a big camera. His wide shoulders encroached into Diane’s space, forcing her to lean into the narrow aisle. I doubted she could even see the window, let alone the view.

I stared down through the rain over Kathmandu as we ascended, leaving the city behind, the tight grid of streets swiftly giving way to the lush greenery of hills and valleys. My ears popped as we climbed higher and higher, at last breaking through the layer of cloud until the aircraft was flooded with a blinding light.

Almost immediately, the Himalayas came into view in the distance and the change of mood inside the cabin was palpable. Noise levels began to rise, people leaned across to take pictures and the cabin crew wandered up and down pointing out sights to each passenger.

I was mesmerised by the view: snow-capped peaks of varying shapes and sizes as far as the eye could see, the tallest of which were encircled by gossamer clouds. Brilliant white contrasting with a sky so blue that the only shade I could think of to describe it was ‘heavenly’.

In that moment, I was proud of myself: I’d been in the country less than twenty-four hours and already I was about to see the first item on Brontë’s list.

Tiff prodded my shoulder. ‘You must be my good luck charm. We’re gonna get an incredible view. This sky is insane.’

I turned and beamed at her. ‘You see, you didn’t need a second cup of coffee after all.’

‘Oh I do,’ she replied, ‘but there’s no toilet on this aircraft and I didn’t want to take any chances. So, you’re glad you came?’

I nodded. ‘It makes up for only getting three hours’ sleep last night. You weren’t kidding when you said you snore. You sounded like an injured sea lion.’

‘Now wait a minute, lady. You can wear ear plugs to protect you from snoring. Whereas your gas? There was no escaping that, even with my pillow pressed over my face. What did you eat for dinner yesterday, rotten eggs?’

‘Dal bhat,’ I muttered, mortified. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so many lentils in one sitting.’

Tiff snorted. ‘Better get used to it, princess. It’s the Nepalese equivalent of a sandwich.’

‘Excuse me, dear,’ said Diane, waving to attract the attention of the stewardess. ‘There isn’t a life jacket under my seat. Neither is there one under my husband’s.’

‘No, mam, we do not keep them on board.’ She tapped the instruction diagram on the back of the seat in front of Diane. ‘See this picture? The cushion you are sitting on is your flotation device.’

‘I see.’ Diane’s face turned a peculiar colour.

‘A cushion?’ Steve spluttered loudly. ‘So, all that’s saving me from death on a mountainside is a sodding cushion?’

‘Don’t make a fuss, Steve,’ his wife whimpered. ‘I don’t feel safe as it is.’

‘Me?’ He snorted. ‘Says the woman who ran screaming into the corridor last night when she saw a cockroach.’

‘Cockroaches?’ I turned to look at Tiff.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Better get used to those too.’

I instinctively scratched my scalp.

‘Would you like to visit the cockpit?’ the stewardess said to Diane. ‘You get an excellent view of the mountains, and our experienced pilot will show you how safe we are.’

‘I can’t move,’ said Diane, her bottom lip trembling. ‘I’m frozen to the spot.’

A smiling man in a pilot’s uniform appeared from the cockpit. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to invite you one at a time to—’

‘Whoah,’ cried Steve, rising out of his seat, his safety belt straining across his lap. ‘Get back to your chair and keep your eyes on the road, pal.’

‘It is okay.’ The pilot held his hands up. ‘My colleague is flying the plane, there is no need to—’

The last word of his sentence was lost to the screams of the passengers as we hit a pocket of turbulence and the aircraft pitched and rolled like a canoe in rough waters. Both the pilot and the stewardess lurched forward, almost losing their footing. The pilot retreated swiftly to the cockpit while the stewardess rearranged her features into a smile.

‘We’re crashing,’ screamed Diane, gulping in air. ‘We’re all going to die. I can’t die now; I’ve got Harry Styles tickets.’

‘Everyone please remain in your seats,’ the stewardess said calmly. ‘There is nothing to worry about. The captain knows what he is doing.’