Nula was a nervous flyer. If the conditions were bad, she often refused to go up in the Jet Ranger with Charlie. She didn’t hate the helicopter quite so much if someone else, some nice steady pilot type, was flying it. But Charlie was crazy. He thought dipping the damned thing up and down and making her clutch at her seat was a great laugh.
Newsflash: it wasn’t.
Every time the craft shuddered, she felt her heart leap into her mouth. But now – thank God! – they were nearly home. She could see the yellow, brown and green fields streaking along beneath them. And she could see their lake in the distance, the sun glittering on its surface, and there up ahead was the big square welcoming shape of their house.
A few more minutes and this will be over.
Christ, she hated flying.
Suddenly the engine stuttered. Nula felt herself flung forward against the restraining strap of her seat belt.
‘What the fuck?’ she gasped out.
Charlie was staring ahead, concentrating. ‘Only a glitch, babe. It’s nothing,’ he said.
Nula clung to her seat. Just get us back onto the ground safely, she thought.
The engine stammered again; a bigger jolt this time. Nula let out a shriek. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage. She felt slick sweat start on her neck and arms.
They were coming in, getting closer and closer. She could see the big H on the helipad now, see the sun sending up bright dazzling shimmers from the lake, throwing up a blinding shield of light. Then the aircraft canted to one side, throwing her against the harness again. It hurt.
Then again.
Nula screamed.
She heard Charlie say: ‘What the fucking hell?’ as he wrestled with the controls.
The thing was spinning now. Over and over, side to side, end over end. Her screams and Charlie’s shouts merged and blended with the roar of the faltering engine.
We’re going to hit the lake, we’re going to hit the lake, thought Nula.
Oh Christ, please help us . . .
There was an ear-shattering bang, flames in the cabin followed by terrible pain – and then the whole thing began to plummet.