Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

He reached the last word and allowed himself a proper look at the congregation. His eyes swept across the packed church.

He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect from his former colleagues.

Judgement? Disappointment?

What he saw was sympathy. Warmth, even.

Red Brunson looked directly at him, confidence in his gaze.

He returned to his seat.

They sang ‘Jerusalem’. During the second verse, Mark Kilton made his way promptly to the lectern.

He recounted tales of World War Two. Millie as an engineer who worked miracles to keep them flying day after day.

He drew laughs with his accurate descriptions of Millie’s inability to hold his beer, and his natural clumsiness. He paid a warm tribute to Millie’s patriotism and sense of duty.

Kilton’s eulogy went down well; had it not been in church, he may have received a round of applause.

After he returned to his seat, the vicar’s voice shifted. He spoke with deep solemnity, in a serious and authoritative tone. Woodward and the pallbearers reappeared. As they manoeuvred to raise Millie to their shoulders, an overwhelming sense of grief and finality swept across Rob, and he couldn’t force back the tears any longer.

Damn the bloody uniform.

As the coffin was walked past, he turned. Red Brunson also had tears streaming down his face, as did Dave Berringer, George Taffter, Henry Wiseman, Leslie Owens…

In fact, all his colleagues were weeping.

Why had he even tried to keep it in?

Georgina and Charlie followed the coffin, Millie’s widow slumped against her son. Rob and the others in the second row moved out to follow them.

Within a few minutes, the large congregation had filled one half of the graveyard. Rob and Mary stood close to Georgina, staring at the coffin which was now on the ground next to the freshly dug grave.

Rob looked around again, desperate to see her.

Eventually, he spotted Red, towering over the crowd, leaning down, talking to someone.

He wanted desperately to join them, to find out who Red thought she was.

And why was she here?

The congregation closed around the grave. A breeze flapped at the dresses and the women held one hand on their hats.

The vicar projected his voice to the furthest reaches of the graveyard.

“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

Millie had been a more regular churchgoer than he or Mary. Rob could only hope this meant something more than a few stirring words.

The pallbearers stood either side of the grave and lifted the coffin. Rob’s legs wobbled and he clutched at Mary. She squeezed him tight and tears fell freely from his eyes.

Goodbye, old friend.

As the vicar spoke, a low rumbling began behind them.

“We therefore commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”

A thunderous noise erupted above them, and the sun was blotted out as a huge Avro Vulcan swept over and pulled up, climbing toward the clouds.

“Christ, that was low,” he said to Mary.

They were all hit by a blast of following air. Hats flew off in the swirling vortexes, grit and dirt kicked up from the ground, and men and women plugged their ears, too late against the roar.

The flypast had been recklessly low, and the vicar and crowd had ducked. But as they rose up again, gathered their hats, and picked the dirt from their eyes, laughter and cheers rippled forward from the back of the crowd.

Georgina turned, smiling at Rob.

“What fun!” she mouthed at him, and he broke into a broad smile.

The coffin was lowered. The vicar picked up a clump of earth and dropped it. Georgina and Charlie did the same.

Mary used her hand to guide Rob a step forward; he bent down to scoop up his own fistful of soil.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a cracked and weak voice, as he released the earth onto the coffin of Christopher Milford.

AS THEY WALKED from the grave, Rob pressed himself close to Mary, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her tightly against him.

“I’ve never needed you more,” he said.

She pushed her arm around his waist; it felt good.

“Are we back together?” he whispered.

She looked at him, their faces an inch apart. He smelt her sweet breath and wallowed in a moment of intimacy.

“Everything’s changed. Just act normally, follow along.” She snapped her head forward and unentangled her arm, looking nervous.

Confused, Rob looked around, searching for Susie. Finally, he spotted her next to Red Brunson. They were already through the gate, ahead and beyond the policemen who were waiting for him.

He couldn’t take his eyes from Red and Susie together, but as he and Mary arrived at the police car, a door opened, and they were ushered into the backseat.

The security men climbed into the front, and the sergeant in the passenger seat turned to them.

“You’ll be dropped at the officers’ mess. We will wait outside until you wish to leave, at which point we will escort you off the station. We can give you a lift somewhere nearby.”

Before Rob could answer, Mary spoke up. “I’ve arranged a lift from the mess with Lieutenant Brunson.”

“Fine, but we’ll still have to escort the vehicle off the station. It’s our orders.”

“I understand,” she said.

Rob stayed silent.

They passed through the gates to RAF West Porton; the car drove directly to the front door of the mess.

Rob climbed out, as mourners walked past from the car park.

Inside the mess, they made their way to the large anteroom, securing the early pickings at the buffet and wine. But Rob wasn’t hungry.

The room filled quickly and the chatter level rose.

Rob tried to talk to Mary again, but she warned him off with a stern look and a shake of the head.

Before he knew it, the room was packed, and Rob could see only the few people directly around him, and there was no-one he knew well.

Red Brunson appeared, pushing through the throng.

Brunson’s eyes locked with Rob’s but then darted to his left, urging Rob to look behind him.

Mark Kilton followed him.

Rob stiffened.

Kilton stopped to talk to a group; he was only a few yards away.

From behind Red’s frame, Susie Attenborough stepped out.

Red ushered her forward.

“This is Susan Wilson. She worked with Millie at Boscombe Down.”

Susie put out her hand. Rob stared, eventually taking the cue and shaking it.

“Hello,” he managed.

“I’m so sorry for you all. I hadn’t seen Millie for some time, but he was the perfect gentleman and we are all very upset.”

“He was,” said Red.

A waiter appeared with a tray of white wine. Susie took a glass, along with Mary. But Red Brunson sipped from an orange juice.

“I’m flying later,” he told Rob, and looked at him, apparently waiting for a reaction.

The final flight of project Guiding Light.

Rob stared at Susie, but she was looking elsewhere.

There was some shuffling in the crowd to their right as Georgina arrived into the room with Charlie. Kilton left the nearby group to greet them.

A moment later, a cheer went up, and Rob turned to see Jock MacLeish arrive, all smiles as he received several slaps on the back.

“What’s that about?” he asked Red.

“The flypast,” Red said, beaming.

“Low, loud and probably illegal,” one of the TFU pilots nearby said. “But just about the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Millie would have loved it,” Rob said, laughing.