'Welcome home Golf Tango India,' Carl's voice crackled through the coms system. 'Point plane at stand and Taxi like you're in New York!'

'Carl! Please use professional aviation language only.' Martin chastised the Tower for what felt like the millionth time.

'Alright, alright, Rodger that. Keep your overly large hat on!'

It had been, for MJN, a quiet trip out to India. There had been no passengers so there was very little to go wrong in fairness. Arthur had tried his utmost as always, however. The 'Strawberry alert' had been one of the worst in history. Martin leaned back in his seat and sighed. It had been a very long flight.

Douglas yawned as he pulled Gerti up to her stand, 'I want a shower, some lunch and bed. Soon.' Martin chuckled and nodded his agreement. 'Oh,' Douglas continued. 'Titanic...free Willy.'

Martin burst out laughing as the door to the flight deck crashed open and Arthur galumphed in, 'Hi Chaps! Brilliant trip wasn't it!'

'When is a trip, in your opinion, not Brilliant Arthur?' Douglas sighed as he stood, stretched and reached for his flight bag. 'Recovered from the Strawberry alert then?'

Arthur beamed, 'Yep, sorry about that chaps, I didn't realise...'

'That strawberry milkshake would have strawberries in.' Douglas finished the sentence for him. 'No your wouldn't, would you.'

As Martin stood, a thought occurred to him, 'When Harry met...Paul.'

Douglas nodded, 'Yes, you can have that one. Certainly better than your last attempts.' Martin looked pleased with himself. As always with their games, Douglas had been much better at 'Merged film titles' than he had.

As if to emphasise this point, Douglas stopped in the door way to the flight deck and said, 'The Desolation of ...Ghandi.'

Martin rolled his eyes as he too grabbed his flight bag and followed Douglas out of the plane. They heard Carolyn yell at Arthur to 'start hovering!' as they made their way across the tarmac to the glorified shed of an office.

'Doing anything with the week off then Martin?' Douglas asked as they entered the porta cabin and each went to their separate lockers.

'What, no nothing, why do you ask?' snapped the Captain, his shoulders instantly tensing.

'Sorry, how rude of me to ask...' Douglas turned to hang up his jacket.

'Sorry,' Martin mumbled an apology. Placing his hat carefully in its allocated place in his locker he asked, 'Are you?'

Douglas gave a rare warm smile, 'Off to Cumbria to spend a few days with Zoe.' Martin noticed the First Officers gaze fall upon the slightly crumpled picture of a beaming little girl tapped to the inside of his locker. He noticed Martin watching and his face regained its usual superior sneer, 'Want a lift home?'

'No, but thank you,' Martin was taken aback. 'That's very generous. But I have to stay here; paperwork to do and all.'

The door to the porta cabin whooshed open and Carolyn stamped in, 'Not more paper work Martin! Every time I have seen you recently you have been doing bloody paper work. Even you cannot be more organised than is physically possible.'

Martin sat stiffly in the arm chair that Douglas has insisted for the 'office' and pulled his log book towards him. 'I won't be long Carolyn; I just want to finish this first. A good pilot is an organised one.'

Carolyn gave him a pitting look, 'Do what you will, but please go home and enjoy the time off soon. God know, I won't.' Both pilots gave her a quizzical look. 'I am going to be tutoring idiot boy about maths. Remember, his business exam is in two weeks.'

'Good God, that sounds awful!' Douglas exclaimed. 'Well have fun, try not to kill him or drown in over enthusiasm. See you in a week.'

As Douglas moved towards the door, shrugging on his coat, Carolyn called out, 'Now just a second First Officer Richardson, I heard you offering out lifts a moment ago. Arthur and I will take you up on that. Thank you kindly.'

Douglas started muttering about the offer not standing for someone's house which was twenty miles in the wrong direction but soon gave up as Carolyn bundled her and Arthurs over night bags on to him with a 'off you trot.' He sighed, waved at Martin and ducked out of the cabin, followed by Carolyn who called for Arthur as they walked across the tarmac.

'Monsters...fight club,' Martin muttered to himself, his grin fading fast. Well, had better get sorted, he thought to himself as, the same as every night for the last three weeks that he hadn't been abroad, he pulled out the duvet he kept in his locker and settled in for a night in the cabin.

Martin had been kicked out of his flat three weeks ago when he, finally and inevitably, failed to keep up with the rent. The embarrassment of telling anybody had lead him to sleep at the airfield, carefully covering his tracks every morning, and making up excuses for being in early and staying late. He would have to do something soon he knew, otherwise Carolyn would find out. A few more days; he just couldn't face his mother's pity or Simon's muttered, 'I told you so,' yet. He ran a hand through his short ginger hair sighing. Then gave himself a shake and turned to put the kettle on.

After an exciting supper of cup-a-soup Martin changed and then curled up in the arm chair. Luckily Douglas kept a rather large selection of books in the cabin for when they were on stand; Martin had now made his way through most of them. Wolf Hall was on the cards tonight. He snuggled up in the duvet and glanced around. The cabin had been fine for the last three weeks when they had been away most nights on jobs but now he faced four empty days alone. It wasn't even as though he afford to go and do things. Unhappiness weighed down on him like gravity on Gerti, and he struggled not to cry. He imagined Douglas happy with his daughter and Carolyn and Arthur arguing about maths at home and felt terribly, terribly alone. He fell asleep, curled catlike, in the arm chair, the light still on and the book folded open in his lap.

Martin never got the four days alone he had envisaged. In fact he bearly got twelve hours. He was woken, horribly abruptly the next morning by the lock turning in the door and a crash as Carolyn entered.

'Got your mother in a whirl...oh, BLOODY HELL MARTIN.' Carolyn almost fell over in surprise, screaming when she discovered her Captain asleep in her office. Martin jumped up, scared out of his wits and still half asleep. He rubbed his face.

'Oh, er, ah. Hello Carolyn. Just, um doing some early morning paperwork.'

Carolyn, one hand over her heart, the other still clutching the door handle, exhaled and then looked at Martin, here eyebrows raised, 'Cut the crap Martin; you are nearly as bad at lying as Arthur. What the hell are you doing sleeping in my Office?'

Martin looked around frantically, trying to think of an excuse. He floundered; his arms wind milling as he racked his brains. Then, quite suddenly all the fight went out of him and he deflated back into the arm chair. Unable to look at his boss he put his head in his hands and mumbled, 'Igotchuckedoutofmyflat...'

Carolyn strained forwards to hear him, 'what?'

'I got kicked out of my flat. I am homeless. I have no where to live. I cannot think of another way to say it!' He looked up straight at Carolyn for a second to gauge her reaction. When her face didn't move a muscle, he flopped his own face back down, inspecting the carpet. Martin expected his boss to be furious. After all, sleeping at the airfield was hardly 'by the book.' He did not expect her to talk to him in the soft, kindly voice that was normally reserved solely for her son.

'Why didn't you tell me, Martin?'

He shrugged. 'Well, it's embarrassing isn't it. And, well what would you do. And I didn't want Douglas to know. I can fix it anyway. Not that I'm sure how,' He couldn't stop now. Something in Carolyn's tone had finally broken his stiff upper lipped resolve. 'They even took Dad's van as extra payment, so it's not like I can even make any money.' He could feel tears building in the corners of his eyes. Not now! Martin scrubbed angrily at his face. There was a moments silence in which Martin didn't dare look up. But then there was a gentle hand on his shoulder and Carolyn had sat on the arm of the chair.

'Idiot boy,' she said, but ever so gently. 'You should have told me, Martin.'

Before Martin could reply, he felt a gentle hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing his hairline gently in a way only his mother had ever done before.

'I'll go, of course,' he mumbled when he could trust his voice not to crack. 'I am sorry, Carolyn, I know it's totally unprofessional...I just didn't know where else to go.' Martin trailed off sadly and then stood to collect his things before he broke down entirely in front of his boss.

Carolyn sat very still for a moment a funny expression on her face as though a fierce battle was raging internally. She pressed her hands together, sighed and said rather quickly,' get your things and follow me.'

Martin froze halfway through pulling his battered jacket on over his pyjamas, 'What?'

Carolyn spoke very slowly, 'Martin, I may be a grumpy old bat (and this is the only time you will ever hear me admit that) but I am damned if I am going to let you sleep here or out in the cold.' Her voice softened and she placed a hand gently on this shoulder, 'face your family when you are ready.' Her voice regained its usual tone as she bustled around the office collecting his things, 'not forever, mind. And you will pull your weight!'

Martin nodded hastily and pulled on his shoes smiling ever so slightly as he raced after Carolyn to the car. Maybe the next four days wouldn't be as bad as he had feared.