Matt Shaw: A Sting in the Tale: A Collection of Short Stories

“We could stay in London for the week,” Kirsty pushed.

“I don’t want to stay in London for the week. I want to go somewhere warm with blue seas. London has neither of those.”

“But we wouldn’t need to fly,” she pointed out. “What about the aliens?” she suddenly said.

Dylan looked at her. Once again, he knew what was coming. He believed in aliens, she didn’t. Normally she liked to tease him about it but he knew she was about to try something else to stop her from having to get on the plane.

“What if they choose our plane as the one to abduct?” she continued. Despite not believing a word she was saying, she still managed to say it with a straight face so he gave her kudos for that at least.

“Then you would have to apologise to me for all the times you said I was an idiot for believing in them,” Dylan pointed out.

“Hard to apologise when we’re being dissected,” Kirsty pointed out.

Dylan was getting agitated yet still trying his best not to say something he’d regret — like telling his wife to stop being so damned pathetic and pull herself together. In a calm voice he continued, “Remember when we booked this? I asked you about the flights and you said you would be fine. We’re not going to cancel just because you’re starting to panic about it. You do know we would lose all the money, right?”

She sighed. She knew they’d lose the money but — now it was time to get on the plane — she didn’t care. She had a bad feeling about it, fuelled by the recent press stories she had read where planes had gone down, disappeared or had the flight disrupted somehow. They were still about an hour away from the airport and she could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat.

“Just keep thinking about the resort,” Dylan said. “How luxurious it is…”

It was luxurious too. White sand that you’d no doubt have to run across due to it being super-heated by the sun, crystal clear blue ocean of the stillest water. Deep blue skies without a cloud in sight. And the amenities too; lagoon-like pools, comfortable sun-loungers, hammocks stretched from tree to tree, a different restaurant for every night of their holiday, a high-class spa. The resort was the very definition of luxury.

“As soon as we get there, you can head off for a massage to de-stress. How’s that? And — I haven’t told you this yet — but I even booked us into the airport lounge and there’s a spa in there too. You can have a nice massage before you get on the plane; a little rub to ease away the tension before you board.”

It was a nice idea and Kirsty appreciated it but she knew it would be useless. She would only get tense when she was sitting on the plane, especially during the take off. A massage at the airport would be money wasted. What made the whole thing worse, in her head, was that — even if she survived the trip out there… She still had to come home again at the other end of the holiday.

“What do you say?” Dylan pushed her for an answer.

“Maybe.”

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had his work cut out for him to ensure she got on that airplane. His father used to say ‘maybe’ to him a lot when he was growing up and it always meant the same thing — ‘no’. It was just easier to say ‘maybe’ than it was to say ‘no’. It stopped the conversation short and meant no further discussion was needed. Saying ‘no’ just invited more pressure from the person trying to convince you to do something you’d sooner not. With one eye on the road, he turned to Kirsty and flashed her a smile. She didn’t see; her eyes were closed as she pretended to sleep so as to avoid further conversation.

Kirsty imagined sitting in one of the cramped seats of the plane. Everything around her was happening in slow-motion. All sound was mute. Directly in front of her was the air-stewardess. Her mouth was open as she appeared to be screaming. Her eyes were wide. The pain and fear she felt was clearly etched upon her face as the flames licked away the skin, leaving red blisters and pealing skin with each taste of her flesh. Belted up, and fearing for her own life, there was nothing Kirsty could do other than to watch in horror in the knowledge that the flames would soon be consuming her flesh too. The only way out of it being, to tell the lady behind the desk — now — that there was a bomb in the suitcase she was weighing in.

She went to open her mouth but caught sight of Dylan’s smile. He was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke with the lady behind the desk; buzzing with excitement at the thought of going away on this trip.

“Next bag, please.” The lady pressed a button and the first suitcase disappeared down the conveyor belt.

Too late for that bag. Dylan lifted the second case up onto the belt and stood up straight. Kirsty felt her heart race as the adrenaline rushed through her body; her brain tempting her to shout out that this was the case with the bomb. She closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see where she was then, she figured, it meant she wasn’t really there. She felt a tap on her arm and opened her eyes. Dylan was looking right at her with a smile on his face.

He mouthed the words, are you okay?

She nodded and smiled back.

“Okay here are your boarding cards. If you’d like to make your way through security.” The lady handed over three boarding cards; one for Dylan, one for Kirsty and one for Ethan who was — himself — bouncing off the walls with excitement. Unlike his mother, he wasn’t scared of flying — not that he had been on a plane before. If anything, he was impatient for it.

“Thank you,” Dylan took the cards and the three of them set off for the security channel with him leading the way.

This was another aspect of flying that Kirsty hated; security. She had never done anything wrong, and was never carrying anything she shouldn’t have been but — whenever she was confronted with situations like this — she felt guilty. In her head she’d set the machine off and — in a panic — would turn and run from the guards. They would give chase, catch her and end up dragging her through to a private room ready for the strip search. Of course it never happened like that but it didn’t stop the rogue thoughts from running riot in her overly stressed brain.

“I’ll probably have a heart attack before we even get to the plane. You realise that, don’t you?” she said, catching up with Dylan.

“You’ll be fine.” He was a patient man but it was getting to the stage where he just wanted to be there now. If he was on the beach, with the water lapping at his toes, he would no longer have to listen to her moaning and stressing about the flight. He wasn’t scared of flying, if anything he actually enjoyed it, and yet — with her constant worrying, he was starting to feel uneasy. It was as though she was going to end up jinxing them with her negativity. Naturally he couldn’t tell her that. Not without starting an argument and — when she was stressed already — that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Ethan! Get back here!” he shouted suddenly. Ethan — overly excited — had run off into the security line-up. That was the one nice thing about Kirsty’s fear of flying; it meant she was so busy looking after herself that minding their son ended up being Dylan’s responsibility. He didn’t mind though and, for her, it was one less thing to worry about.

They caught their son up and Dylan took two plastic containers from underneath a conveyor belt. The two bags of carry-on luggage were dropped in to the tubs first and then their shoes, belts, phones and watches. It was ridiculous the amount you had to discard and the rules you had to follow when going through the security points but no one ever complained. Rather a few minutes of mild annoyance than someone walking onto the plane with a shoe packed with Semtex — something else that Kirsty often thought about when flying. This fear also brought about by a News story. A man who was caught trying to detonate his shoe in the plane’s toilets a few years ago. At the time, when Kirsty heard the report, she had found it funny but now she was presented with the task of having to get on the plane; it was her worst nightmare. Or — at least — one of her worst nightmares as the list was more than extensive and, thanks to depressed pilots and acts of terrorism and this and that… It was getting longer month by month.