By Liz Frost
I can still remember the smell of the morning, fruity and juicy like a ripe nectarine, to be drunk in like
breakfast juice. Deep lungfuls of satisfying morning filled me with the happiness that only holidays can
bring. The working week never held such mornings, only blind scuffles on the tube, weaving in and
out of pedestrians and travelers. A gauntlet of umbrellas to duck and dive at task. Blind to the sky
and the smell of the nectarine morning.
Even watching out of the window on my way to the airport I was mindful of the spaces of blue sky that
remained visible between the bumbling clouds. Enough to fashion a pair of men’s trousers meant a
sunny day ahead, my mum always said. A part of me secretly wished for the rain to come so that I
could feel happier about leaving for sunnier shores, superior in my holiday status and laughing at
those left behind me in the rain, but mainly I was glad for the good start and the freshness that meant
a firm starting block for what I was sure would be a fantastic trip.
At the airport, Izzy was waiting expectantly by the check-in desk, sitting on a suitcase almost as big as
her and certainly heavier than her tiny frame. Her blonde curls bounced like springs as she turned
her head and saw me, lugging my equally huge suitcase towards her
“Rio!” we both yelled before enveloping each other in unselfconscious hugs and rushing forward to put
our luggage in.
I love those tiny packets of peanuts and the fact that you can have a glass of wine in the air. Yes, you
can have a glass of wine in any bar you choose to, but somehow it’s different in the sky and sitting with
your tiny tray down and a stack of magazines crammed into the space behind the seat in front.
Looking across at Izzy I could tell she felt the same. With huge grins we ordered two individual bottles
of wine each as well as some water as a token gesture to those experts who warn of the dangers of
dehydration and DVT. Izzy had the window seat and I had the aisle. We agreed to swap on the way
back.
It’s so different here to any place I’ve ever been. My imagination has been released from beyond the
realms of its normal enclosure into a huge daisy field where it’s left to graze on fresh green grass that
has never been trod underfoot. I decided to explore further today and found a place that reminded
me so much of the garden I used to play in when I was a little girl. There was even a swing made out
of a piece of rope and a car tyre hanging from a large oak identical to that I used to enjoy swinging
from. I spent hours swinging higher and higher without a care in the world and then had some special
home made lemonade and laid out in a hammock underneath its huge leafy branches. This place
really does live up to its name.
Leaning across Izzy, I gazed out at blue sky as we soared higher above the clouds. A vast luxury blue
yarn spread out across the world. Enough to tailor pairs of blue trousers for everyone on the plane
and maybe even jackets and hats to match. The wine was having a sedative effect on Izzy and sleep
had snatched her into its slumberous arms… I was fast falling victim and soon we were both its
blissfully willing captors.
Izzy has been mostly making flower garlands. She was always creative but I didn’t realize how much –
it’s like this is the ideal environment for her to flourish. Looking around me now I can see everyone
wearing one of Izzy’s garlands, it’s like Hawaii! At night times we sit on the beach around a campfire
with friends who we feel like we’ve known forever. Nick plays acoustic guitar and the rest of us sing
songs we’ve learned through our lives, some I’ve never heard before are so beautiful, lifting the hairs
on the back of my neck. The beach reminds me of so many beaches Izzy and I have sat on together
on our numerous trips, beautiful white sand stretching out as far as we can see and gentle waves
lapping at the shore. During the day the water gets quite warm and you can see right to the bottom of
the sea.
A jolt woke me up. Izzy was already awake and rigid in her seat, plastic tray firmly pushed back into
an upright position. I’ve never seen her eyes so wide. Everyone else seemed to be wide awake too
and several of them were scrabbling with seatbelts, a glance at the light indicators above me confirmed
the seatbelts on sign was lit up… Izzy and I followed suit. Izzy had always been terrified of flying and
over the course of the last few years she’d gradually overcome the fear, and been able to fly without
worrying at all, but now I could see in her eyes the familiar petrified look of old so I reached across to
reassure her, after all, it was only a patch of turbulence and soon I was sure that the captain would be
on the tannoy announcing as much.
Snorkeling here is a delight. The array of colourful fish seem almost cartoon-like in their beauty and
vibrancy. Sometimes they get close enough for you to touch them and then swim away. Most
amazing of all are the dolphins. I always wanted to swim with dolphins and never managed it before,
trips were always fully booked or it was the wrong season, but here the dolphins are attracted to the
shallow waters by the rock pools and if you’re very still they’ll come up and nuzzle you with their
smooth bottle noses, occasionally I’ll grab a fin and let myself be dragged out to sea.
Another jolt and a rollercoaster drop elicited screams of surprise and fear from the aircraft. Looking
around I was trying to gauge reactions and calculate the seriousness of the turbulence. A man was
holding a hanky to his nose, which was gushing with blood, he must have bumped it with the jolt of the
plane. A lady next to him was trying to help him but her hands were shaking, which made me realize
how much the plane was moving and shuddering. I began to feel frightened and the tightening grip of
Izzy’s hand on mine was as much for my benefit as for hers.
Far from the blue sea of sky I’d last witnessed, the view from the window showed nothing but swirling
grey clouds wrapping the plane and seemingly pulling it closer to the ground. Rain was tapping
against the windows with its icy fingers.
The Stewardesses were all strapped into their special high-backed chairs and not one person was
saying anything, just petrified eyes everywhere and people holding hands. I kept having the urge to
make a joke to lighten the mood. I was so sure everything would be fine, but then there was another
jolt and a drop.
The front of the plane seemed to be dipping forward and the oxygen masks dropped down from the
ceiling. I’d seen this in the safety demonstration many times, but never really paid attention because I
never thought anything like this would happen, but one thing I remembered was that you should put
the mask over your own face first before your children’s in case you pass out and they can’t get the
mask on themselves. I didn’t have any children but looking at Izzy frozen with fear, I felt very maternal
towards her so I felt it had to be that way round for us. I looked around for reassurance that we were
supposed to take the masks… I felt weirdly self-conscious about it. Everyone else was well on their
way to putting on their masks and Izzy was still frozen in her seat, so I grabbed my mask and put it
over my face and then put hers over her face. She yelped with fear when she realized that we were
now officially in an emergency situation.
Sometimes I like to go exploring in the rock pools early in the morning. I used to go rock pooling with
my dad. We’d catch huge crabs and touch the sea anenomies to watch them retract their wispy
fingers. I find myself wishing he was here with me now, I momentarily pine for the days when I was a
little girl, but I tell myself that someday we’ll go rock pooling together again and vow to show him this
beautiful place. It’s so difficult to feel melancholy here, I wonder if I’ll ever feel homesick but right now it
feels more like home here than anywhere else ever has.
People had started saying prayers. Couples were clinging to each other with fear that this may be
their last embrace. One girl had her head in her hands in the brace position. The feeling of speed
was immense. We were hurtling towards the ground and there had still been no announcement over
the tannoy. I began to wonder if the captain had passed out. Later I found that he’d had a heart
attack and the plane had lost control before the auto pilot had had the chance to kick in.
I tried to think about death, but there was still an overwhelming feeling that the plane would straighten
up and we’d laugh about this on the sunny Rio streets.
That was when Izzy’s window blew. And Izzy was gone.. I can still picture her face as it happened,
total and utter fear. I knew she was dead. With no window in place the wind reached in and tried to
pluck out anything it could. I was clinging onto my chair desperately and the wind was so strong that I
couldn’t open my eyes. When I managed to pry one eye open I realized that the same had happened
in several places and other people were being plied from their seats like Izzy. The overhead lockers
had sprung open and pieces of hand luggage were being hurled dangerously around the airplane.
People were being injured and killed purely by errant luggage.
At this point I was aware that it was only a matter of time before we were all going to die. I didn’t feel
how I would expect to have felt. I felt an utter sense of detachment and overwhelming loss of Izzy. I
wished I had been sucked out of the window and not her. I wondered how much pain I would feel
before death came, or whether it would just come in a blanket and I would know nothing but blackness.
Izzy and I don’t really talk about what it was like, nobody does, it’s like an unsaid rule here.
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