Hello all - and thank you for reading. This is my favourite chapter yet, so I hope you enjoy it too.


Chapter Seven

Martin glanced down at his watch again. School had been over now for twenty minutes and yet he was still standing by the gates, coat pulled tightly around himself. It was hard not to scuff at the ground out of frustration and a need to stay warm. Beside him, Theresa waited with one hand on young Maxi's shoulder to make sure that he didn't run off on his own.

"He's not coming, Martin," Theresa sighed. She was bundled up in a thick coat with fur around the hood, and barely seemed to feel the chill. "If you stay out here much longer you'll freeze."

"I said I was meeting Douglas here, so I'm meeting him here," Martin replied curtly, even though his faith was waning. So close to the end of term, now halfway through December, Douglas had grown more and more careless with his time. That only hardened Martin's resolve. "I made a commitment, Theresa. I'm going to get him through his exams whether he likes it or not..." Martin dropped into a mutter. "Even if I have to march back into school and drag him away from the changing rooms by the back of his jumper."

"That's very noble," Theresa replied, "But-"

"It's stupid," Maxi piped up. He was half Martin's height, but Martin knew that if he didn't pay him his full attention, he would do more than stand with his hands on his hips. The boy had a nasty kick. "Why don't you just tell him to be here?"

"I did-"

"Then why don't you just let him get in trouble with the teachers?" Maxi insisted.

"Because if he gets in trouble, I get in trouble," Martin snapped.

And, he thought, he didn't want Douglas to get in trouble. The other boy might have had the attention span of a gnat, and he may have been unbearably smug at times, but he was also... nice... and funny... and Martin actually enjoyed his company.

While nowhere near popular, Douglas somehow managed to get along with anyone he spoke to, and he was talented enough that most of the teachers loved him. That alone should have made Martin hate him – and he was jealous – but it was a strange kind of jealousy. When Martin watched Douglas study and saw the anxious lines pinch his brow as he struggled to pay attention long enough to answer a single page of questions, he found that he could forgive Douglas all of that. Douglas needed his help – his help – and it bolstered his pride.

It was peculiar, having a friend who was handsome, talented, and who showed an interest in the same things that Martin did. Martin could talk for hours about aviation and Douglas, while rolling his eyes, would listen.

If that meant standing around in the cold waiting for him, then Martin would brave even the snowiest day, if only to prove that he – Martin Crieff of all people – could help this otherwise indomitable boy through his exams.

Theresa shot him a knowing glance, but she patted his shoulder and sighed again.

"Alright then," she said. "I need to go though."

"I want to go home," Maxi whined.

Theresa rolled her eyes and shrugged, taking care to hold onto her brother before he scampered off onto the road.

"You're not going to be around this week, are you?" Martin asked.

"No. My mother's got this big holiday planned," Theresa replied. "Christmas with all my sisters and this monster – and you just know she won't leave work at home."

"I'm sure Fitton can go without its mayor for a week."

"You try telling her that."

With Theresa gone, Martin grew irritable. He began to think that Douglas really had stood him up. Just as he was about to leave, he saw two figures heading across the school grounds. For a moment, Martin considered marching over to meet them. Instead, he huffed and waited until he could see clearly Douglas sauntering towards him with his hands in his pockets, accompanied by Arthur Shappey.

"Hello, Martin!" Arthur called out.

"Hello, Arthur," Martin replied, far more dryly. They shared an English class, but apart from when Douglas was around they didn't see a lot of each other. Martin's attention was firmly fixed on Douglas, who was busy leaning against the gate mere inches from him and flicking his head back to blow a lock of hair out of his eyes. "And you – where have you been?"

"Me?" Douglas retorted. "I've been on the phone to your mother-"

"Why have you got my mum's number?"

"Because she gave it to me and said 'here, Douglas, call me if you need anything," Douglas explained, glancing at Arthur as if to share his – something – whatever it was, Martin wasn't happy with it. "Anyway, I called and told her not to expect us this afternoon."

"Wh-what?" Martin stammered as he looked between them. Arthur was grinning and Douglas looked smug as he always did when he wasn't studying. "Wh-why would you tell her that?"

"Because, Martin, we're not going to yours," Douglas drawled.

"Douglas!"

"Didn't he tell you, Martin?" Arthur asked. Although his tone was innocent, he didn't sound surprised. "We're going to my place! Or, well... not my place exactly-"

"How about we leave it as a nice surprise, hmm?" Douglas interjected.

Immediately Arthur's mouth clamped shut and his cheeks turned slightly red. He nodded quickly and took a step back, as if that might aid him in keeping a secret.

"Wait – hold on," Martin snapped. "I'm not going anywhere until I know where we're going."

"Oh, come on, Martin," Douglas exclaimed. "Live a little."

With that he swung an arm around Martin's shoulders. A moment later Arthur did the same on his other side and against his very vocal protests, Martin was led away from the school gates. He glared back over his shoulder, but nobody was coming to save him. He couldn't see a car, so he assumed that wherever they were going, they were going on foot.

"This is kidnapping, you know," he muttered.

Douglas snorted.

"Well then, it's good experience for the both of us, isn't it?" he replied brightly.

Arthur made a confused sound at the back of his throat.

"What's that mean?"

"Never you mind."

"N-now hold on – I haven't agreed to anything yet!"

Martin's protests were ignored and, unwilling to do anything too violent to extricate himself from Douglas' hold, he had no choice but to go with them.

Seeing Martin's face upon reaching the airfield was enough to bring a smile to Douglas' own. The boy froze, eyes going wide as a high-pitched sound struggled to leave his throat. He looked to Douglas for answers and Douglas clapped him on the back. Then he glanced around Martin and caught Arthur's eye.

"Arthur, could you run ahead and tell your mother we're here?"

"Sure thing, Douglas."

Arthur hurried off across the airfield, dutifully avoiding the paved road and skipping instead across the grass. Martin's eyes followed his every step. Even as Douglas nudged him further inside with a hand at his back, Martin barely put one foot in front of the other. His head snapped from side to side, and then up when one of the Cherokees flitted overhead on its circuit.

"I-I-I, um... y-you... Arthur's mum owns the airfield?"

Douglas scoffed and shook his head.

"No, but she owns a porta-cabin on the airfield, so we've got access," he explained. "That's not to say that we shouldn't be careful where we're walking and who's work we get in the way of."

"O-of course."

"You're not going to lecture me about rules?"

"W-well, I-I... I should, really. A-and there should be better security. We shouldn't be able to just walk in here – I-I mean, we're students," Martin stammered. Then he blushed and cleared his throat, regaining his senses in as clumsy a way as Douglas was used to. Martin ran a hand over the back of his neck and kicked at the ground. "I mean, no, I'm not. Thanks... I, um... thanks for this. I-is this where we're going to be studying?"

"You could say that," Douglas replied with a shrug. He struck up a faster pace across the airfield and Martin fell into step beside him. "I just thought you'd like it, seeing as you've got your heart set on spending the rest of your life in places like this."

"Oh..." Martin was silent for so long that Douglas turned to him, about to ask what was wrong. Then Martin flushed an even darker shade of red and continued. "Thank you – really, thank you."

Embarrassment twisted a tangled knot in Douglas' stomach and he hastily dropped his gaze to his own feet, digging into the frosty grass. He shrugged again, and didn't say another word until they reached the porta-cabin.

Martin seemed suitably intimidated by Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, which Douglas thought pleased her greatly if her sharkish smile was any indication. While Arthur offered up the rich tea biscuits that Carolyn kept in her drawer, Douglas saw to the introductions and used the distraction that Martin provided to rifle through the top layer of papers on Carolyn's desk.

"No, really, I'm fine," Martin insisted, waving away the tube of biscuits again as he addressed Carolyn. "I-if I'm in the way, I could go."

"You're no more in the way than Douglas is," Carolyn replied blithely. Rounding her desk, she delivered a sharp but gentle slap to the back of Douglas' hand, making him drop the printed quote for a full appraisal of her workspace. "You, Fingers – out of my paperwork, now."

"I'm only looking."

"Yes, well, we know perfectly well what happens when you look, don't we Douglas," Carolyn replied. It wasn't a question. She ushered him out from behind her desk and took a seat. The phone rang and she took it off the hook, silencing it with a huff. "Now, if you want me to supply dinner for the three of you, you can make yourself useful – GERTI needs a thorough cleaning-"

"But Martin's a guest."

"Then by all means, Martin doesn't have to do any cleaning," Carolyn replied sweetly. Far too sweetly.

Martin ducked his head when she glanced at him. In an attempt to cheer him, no doubt, Arthur patted him on the back and offered some sound words of comfort, spraying biscuit crumbs into the air.

"Don't worry, Martin," he said. "You don't have to do anything. Douglas said you'd like it if we showed you GERTI."

"G-Gertie?"

"Yeah, she's great."

Martin looked to Douglas. Instead of answering his silent question, Douglas turned his attention back to Carolyn's paperwork. There was a worrying amount stacked up – more than usual. That could mean very good or very bad things. He wasn't sure what he would do if he couldn't escape to the airfield every now and again.

"Why does she need cleaning?" he asked, trying and failing to erase the concern from his tone.

"Nothing serious," Carolyn replied. "We've got some people coming round to appraise her. They want to see that the plane is fit to fly – with some professional opinions – and that I'm capable of running an airline on my own. They'll probably take a walk around the porta-cabin, look through my paperwork, and then wander off. It's tedious, but it's the only way to get the business insurance and the permission to hire pilots."

"You're starting an airline?" Martin piped up, trepidation vanishing. He still twitched, hugging his briefcase close to his body, but his curiosity had been piqued just as Douglas had hoped it would.

"Trying to," Carolyn grumbled. "Why? Are you looking for a job?"

At that, Martin looked so likely to faint that Douglas was ready to catch him.

"Y-yes! Yes, I am!"

"Well, come back when you're not in school and maybe I'll consider it," Carolyn said with an indulgent, slightly stiff smile. It was somewhere between the one she reserved for lawyers and the one she kept only for Arthur. When Martin only gaped, Carolyn turned to Arthur. "Arthur, dear-heart, why don't you take your friend outside. He didn't come all this way to stagnate in an office."

"Okay, Mum." Arthur did as he was told, depositing his bag on the sofa as he led Martin towards the door. "You coming, Douglas?"

"Just a minute," Douglas replied softly. "Wait for me outside?"

Arthur ambled outside without question. Martin hovered for a moment, catching Douglas' eye and raising an eyebrow. Then he shrugged and followed Arthur from the porta-cabin. The instant he was gone, Douglas turned to Carolyn and leaned against her desk.

"So the lawyers aren't coming after you anymore?" he asked. This time he did nothing to hide his worry.

Carolyn sighed and shook her head, touching a frazzled hand to her brow.

"No. I suppose you could say I won the divorce," she said. "The plane's mine, as is the house and a fair bit of the money. All I need to do is build up the company and get the right to actually fly the plane. Not that I know why I'm telling you this."

"To get it off your chest," Douglas suggested. "Or because you've got nobody else to talk to."

"That's enough, Douglas," Carolyn sighed, and Douglas knew to stop talking immediately. Without another moment's hesitation, Carolyn dug through her paperwork and pulled out a thin envelope. She placed it in Douglas' hand and nodded towards the door. "Want to earn your keep? Take that over to Herc on your way."

"Sweet nothings?"

"I need a pilot on side if this scheme is going to work," Carolyn said. "And... Herc has offered to work for me once everything's up and running. Not a word, Douglas. I can set a limit on how many friends Arthur's allowed over, and he's currently with a friend that isn't you."

"Threat received and understood, Mrs Knapp-Shappey."

Sensing that he was pushing his luck, Douglas made his way outside. He ignored Martin's suspicious glare and instead addressed Arthur.

"We need to go and visit Herc before we see to GERTI," he said.

As they made their way towards the hangar on the other side of the airfield, Martin hovered around Douglas like a fly.

"Where are we going now?" he demanded. "At this rate, we won't even get twenty minutes of revision in."

"Carolyn asked me to drop something off," Douglas explained. He offered Martin a tight smile and nudged him in the ribs when he was close enough. "You'll like Herc. He's a pilot."

That was enough to shut Martin up for the duration of the journey.

Just as Douglas had promised, Martin liked Herc. They only spoke to him for ten minutes or so, but Martin was relieved to get that – any advice on flight school and getting his licence from someone who had actually lived it was worth ten times anything he could get from a book. Nevertheless, the man had a job and they couldn't chat for long.

By the time they were crossing the airfield again, Martin was more worried about how much revision Douglas would do than anything else. The sky was dark already and the airfield was lit from above, but there were still hours yet until they could reasonably sit down for dinner. If they were lucky, they could fit in a few hours, but Douglas was sauntering along in the frustrating way he did, talking to Arthur, without any sign of stopping.

Martin stopped dead when he saw the Lockheed-McDonnel 312 sitting on the tarmac a short way from any hangar. He shook himself from his reverie when he saw the others keep walking, straight towards the plane without a care in the world. Realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, muddled with a faint frisson of excitement. Douglas glanced back at him as he tripped into step beside him, and a frustrating smirk tugged at his cheek.

"Alright, Martin?"

"You said Arthur had one of these," Martin said accusingly. That caught Arthur's attention, and to Martin's embarrassment both boys were looking at him. It faded in seconds, chased away by the frustrating expression on Douglas' face. "I thought you meant a model! I-I didn't know he had an actual plane!"

"It's not my plane," Arthur said. "It's Mum's. Now it's Mum's. It was Dad's before, but now she's got it, which is brilliant really. Dad wasn't doing anything good with it, but I think GERTI's going to make Mum really happy."

"Gertie?" Martin repeated, blinking through his confusion. He took in the brief glimpse into Arthur's home life and put it away for later. His eyes darted to the letter printed on the plane's tail and he inhaled sharply. "Oh – Oh! GERTI, as in Golf, Echo-"

"Romeo, Tango, India," Douglas concluded with a jaunty smile. If Martin wasn't mistaken, there was an inkling of pride in his tone.

Martin could hardly speak as Arthur led the way onto the plane. He had the keys, so Martin assumed that they were allowed on board. It wasn't like it was the first time he had been on an aircraft, but there was something thrilling about being alone on a jet – a private, very old make of jet. A fluttering filled his chest and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He felt his cheeks burn each time Douglas glanced at him, but the other boy was grinning too as if all of his schemes had come to fruition, so Martin guessed that the whole point of this had been to impress him and embraced the opportunity.

Dropping his bag full of books onto one of the seats in the Cabin, he followed the others through to the Galley. There, Arthur left them to start making drinks, and Douglas ploughed onwards into the flight-deck, past the creaky door. Martin couldn't resist following.

Martin's breath caught in his throat as he took in the flight-deck. Douglas flicked a switch and the lights came on. Treading further inside, Martin could see the control panel and all the overhead buttons and dials. There were manuals stuffed into a compartment above the seat on the right-hand side and hats balanced in the one of the left.

It took a moment to realise that Douglas was standing aside, giving Martin his pick of seats. Swallowing the knot that formed in his throat, ignoring the aching pang in his chest that begged him to launch himself across the flight-deck and hug the other boy, Martin slipped into the Captain's seat on the left. As Douglas took the First Officer's seat, Martin gazed out at the airfield through the windscreen.

"So, what do you think, Captain Crieff?"

"Hmm?" Martin started at the sound of Douglas's voice. His eyes darted over the dials, then to Douglas' face. Then he hastily looked away, reaching out to the overhead switches before changing his mind. "O-oh, Captain – b-because I'm... I'm uh..."

"Sitting in the Captain's seat?"

"That."

"I thought you'd like this," Douglas murmured, so quietly that Martin wasn't sure he heard.

"So you did bring me here for a reason?" Martin asked.

"Just as a thank you, you know?" Douglas didn't look at him. He shrugged and nudged the yoke. Nothing happened. He cleared his throat. "You've been helping me out, even if I haven't been getting any better. Actually, I have... in certain areas. Anyway, I thought you'd appreciate getting to play with a real aircraft so that you have something to talk about when you get to your interviews."

At first, Martin wasn't sure what to say. He just stared at Douglas, not quite able to tear his eyes from the other boy's face. He wasn't nearly as annoying to look at when he wasn't smarming at him.

"Thank you," Martin settled for saying.

Douglas sniffed loudly and nodded. Then he prodded a button on his side of the control panel.

"Press that," he instructed.

"The ground proximity warning?"

"So you know what it is," Douglas remarked. "Of course you do. Go on then, press it."

Reluctantly, expecting someone to leap out and punish them both, Martin reached across Douglas and pressed the button.

Before he had time to move back, the panel let out a throaty cry of 'PULL UP – PULL UP!'. A faint chuckle escaped him, and he could practically feel Douglas grinning inches away from him.

"It does lots of things like that," Douglas said.

"We're on the ground."

"Exactly. She's a funny little plane," Douglas replied. "So I suppose you know what all of these buttons and knobs do then?"

"Of course I do," Martin said, brimming with pride. He remembered to sit back and settle himself in his seat. His mind drifted towards the books in the Cabin, but something stopped him from mentioning them. He caught Douglas' eye and fought another smile as his cheeks tickled. "I-I could tell you, if you like."

"Sounds like a plan," Douglas agreed. He leaned closer. Martin stiffened momentarily, until he realised that Douglas was pointing to something over his shoulder. "Toss me a hat, would you?"

Letting out a shaky breath, Martin reached back for the pilots' hats. He handed Douglas the First Officer's hat, and scoffed when the boy balanced it precariously atop his head. His own Captain's hat was secured properly, and felt another warm flood of pride and excitement. It was like being six years old again. Even Douglas looked cheerful. It would have been a shame to ruin that. Clearing his throat and biting his lip, Martin pointed towards the centre of the control panel.

"Well, um, th-that there is an altimeter."

"There are two of them," Douglas noted.

"That's in case one goes wrong..."

It was like a game. Martin named as many as he could before Douglas remembered the names of a scarce few. Carolyn must have told him what the instruments did at some point, and despite his apparent issues with written work, Douglas was good at retaining the information relating to the flying of the plane. For a while, Martin considered the chance that Douglas might just be better with tangible tasks – then Douglas nudged him and he realised that he had been silent and staring at the other boy for a full minute.

Arthur came in after a while, carrying drinks for them. Then he disappeared again to carry out the cleaning that Carolyn had requested, reassuring Martin that he enjoyed it before he could rise and try to help. Every now and then Arthur buzzed in on the intercom to say hello, but other than that Martin was left alone with Douglas. He couldn't say that he minded.

"You know, you could come for a kick about sometime," Douglas remarked, seemingly out of nowhere. There was a lull in the flight-deck, and a thoughtful softness in Douglas' tone. "With the boys, at lunch – or after school."

Suddenly, Martin felt awkward. Again, something fluttered inside him, but he could only glance down at the dusty instruments.

"I-I'm not really a kick about kind of person," he replied, genuinely apologetic.

"Well, that's alright," Douglas assured him. "You will come and see the play though, won't you? I'm not Macbeth, but I'll be sure to put on one hell of a show."

"Sure – I-I mean, of course."

"You don't have to."

"No, I'd love to," Martin replied quickly. "I'm sure you'll be great."

Douglas nodded gratefully. His energy seemed to wane, and he picked at the threads in the arm of his seat. Martin didn't wait for him to speak. He was sure that he wouldn't. It was a surprise, therefore, when Douglas' voice reached his ears.

"I am grateful, you know," he said. "For you helping me."

Martin swallowed his surprise. Instead of speaking, he nodded and raised an eyebrow, urging Douglas to keep talking. The boy's eyes searched his face, and if Martin wasn't mistaken, he was nervous. It was a strange thought.

"I just... I do want to pass my exams. I have to. I can't get into university if I don't," Douglas murmured. His gaze dropped to the arm of his seat. "A-and I need to know what's going on, when I get there. It's just... it's difficult. You know? And my parents think I'm doing well, even though they know I'm not – No, they expect me to do well, which they should, because I do well in most things."

"You're not doing awfully," Martin interjected, as loudly as he dared.

"That's the problem," Douglas sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me. But... it's good that you're helping. I think... Martin, I think I need you. At the start of the year, wanting to do well was enough to keep me going, but now... even though I care, I just don't... care. It's like I'm exhausted whenever I pick up a pen, and I need someone to keep me going."

"Well, I... I-I'm happy to help."

"Are you?"

Douglas' eyes were so wide that Martin couldn't bear to lie.

"I-I mean, yes... I am. I wasn't at first, b-but now." Martin ran a hand over his neck and shrugged, and then glanced around the flight-deck. "Y-you've done all this for me – a-and I know you're going to say you're just being a good friend, but you're really supportive about me being a pilot. You have been from the start. S-so... if you want to be a doctor, I'll help you get there, whatever it takes."

And he meant it. For the first time, Martin didn't feel like Douglas was a weight on his shoulders.

Douglas didn't smile. He just nodded and grunted slightly, staring down at his hand.

"You do want to be a doctor, don't you?"

"I suppose," Douglas replied. "It's just hard."

"I know."

Without thinking, Martin reached out to place a hand over Douglas. The motion had the double benefit of blocking Douglas' view of his own knuckles whilst also startling the boy out of his reverie. Honesty hour was over, it seemed. Nevertheless, the strangeness of Douglas' hand in his was comforting. When he caught his eye, Martin smiled, and was relieved to see Douglas smile back. He gave his hand a squeeze and Douglas pressed his thumb into the side of Martin's finger.

Martin removed his hand when Douglas inhaled sharply and righted his posture. His confidence was back, even if it was fragile and obviously forced. He watched as Douglas tilted his hat to the side and prodded the button for the ground proximity warning.

His bag of books was still in the Cabin. It wasn't worth ruining the afternoon to go back for them. For now, Martin was content to enjoy what was possibly one of the best days of his life. Giving in, he tipped his own Captain's hat half an inch to the left and reached for the intercom.

The grin Douglas shot him was worth it.