I
don't like this bit. I tell them all the time but no-one listens. I don't like
the long walk down the white corridor with the grey wrinkled roof that flaps in
the breeze. I like it even less when I get onto the plane. I feel like I can't
breathe. Like I want to run out of there but I'm trapped between the bodies of
shuffling adults and I have to keep moving until one of the air hostesses sits
me in my seat. It's a bit better then. I get to travel in first class and it
feels like there's more air in there than in economy. I can just about remember
what it was like in economy. Before Mum met Dad.
The
air hostess is kind of orange from the neck up and her arms don't match. Her
legs don't match either. I think she has tights that make them look darker. I'd
like to hold her hand but I'm too old for that now so I just squeeze my bag
tightly and picture Mum's face. I
hope she comes this time. Last time they sent the maid.
The
man in front of me is tutting loudly and then he sits down in the seat next to
me. I look down at his arms. They are white and speckled with freckles. They
remind me of the plucked goose we used to have at Christmas when we lived in
London.
I
want to put on my headphones but the goose man starts talking.
"Are
you going home?" he asks.
"Kind
of."
I'm
not really sure where home is any more. Kuala Lumpur used to be home. When Dad
was there. When we all were there and I didn't have to go backwards and
forwards on these planes all the time.
"Where
do you live then?" he asks.
"Penang,"
I say. "But I go to school in Surrey."
He
says what everyone says.
"Penang's
beautiful. I've had a lot of holidays there with my wife and children. My kids
love the beaches."
"Yeah.
It's a good place a holiday, " I say.
I'm
not lying. It would be a good place for a holiday - for his white freckled
children from the UK. His children would be allowed to play on the sand and in
the sea. Not like me.
"We
don't go on the beach much."
That
shut him up. I kind of want him to ask. but he changes the subject.
"My
kids are at boarding school too," he says. "They love it. At least my
eldest does. He loves the sport: cricket, rugby, swimming.
He
hasn't got the hint, about the swimming. Still talking about beaches. I can
picture his son. He'll be like Geoff Baldwin, our year captain, Geoff who calls
me "four eyes" and "snake skin", who shoved me in the
shower with my clothes on.
"They
do lots of sport at my school," I say. And now I do put my headphones on.