The Best Breakfast in The World
The aroma of sausage and bacon wafts up to greet Julia’s enthusiastic nose. Crisp hash browns nestle against glistening mushrooms, and the wrinkled egg yolks look cooked through to perfection. Where to start? She cuts a bite of bacon and it is the tastiest she has ever eaten. They say a near-death experience enhances your senses, and apparently it’s true. Because this is, without a doubt, the best breakfast in the world. And it may also be her last.
❦ ❦ ❦
“Who’s idea was this again?” Martin’s voice was muffled by the duvet.
“Yours.” Julia stripped the covers from him with no sympathy. “And we’re going to be late.”
Martin groaned, but perked up when Julia brought him an energy drink, which he downed in several long gulps. After that, getting him out of the flat was much easier, and he drove up the motorway at alarming speed. Julia was feeling a bit queasy by the time they arrived at Duxford airfield, and her introduction to their pilot didn’t help.
As they pulled up to the barrier, Martin pointed to a figure on the other side. “There’s Tom.”
Julia saw a young man with a mop of unruly brown curls jogging towards them.
“You never mentioned he was only twelve. I must be old enough to be his mother.”
“He’s eighteen,” Martin said, waving to Tom, who had raised the barrier and was gesturing them through.
“Oh god, I am old enough to be his mother. Is he even allowed to fly a plane? And how can he be a member of your team at work?”
Martin grinned at her. “Lots of people go straight into work from school these days, especially in the tech industry. Don’t worry, love. He’s had his pilot’s licence for nearly two years. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
They pulled into a parking space and both climbed out. Tom bounded up to them, his face alight with excitement.
“Hi! Great to see you, Martin! And you must be Julia. It’s nice to meet you. Martin talks about you all the time.”
Julia threw a suspicious glance at her husband, but dredged up a smile and extended her hand.
“Nice to meet you, too. And thanks so much for this. We’ve been looking forward to it.” Or at least, she had been.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I like to take the plane up as often as I can, and it’s always more fun to have other people along.”
A thought struck Julia. “We didn’t need to bring our passports for Guernsey, did we?”
Tom blanched. “Um, actually, yes, we did.” Julia’s heart sank. This was what happened when she let Martin organise things. Tom looked sheepish. “But I didn’t bring mine, either.”
Julia laughed. “Oh, well. At least we’re all equally at fault.”
“So, what do we do now?” Martin asked.
Tom shrugged. “There are plenty of places in the South West of England we could get to in a couple of hours. How about Newquay?”
And just like that, the trip was back on. A small part of Julia might have been glad for it to be cancelled, but she pushed the niggling feeling down and brought her smile back into play.
“Lovely,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Tom led them out to the plane, which was smaller than Julia expected, and much more flimsy-looking. Julia’s apprehension grew when Tom told them it dated back to the 1970s. She would have preferred the ages of Tom and the plane to be reversed. But there was no turning back now.
Tom was explaining technical things about the plane. “The two-way radio only works in the front. So, whoever goes in the back will be able to hear the others but not speak to them.”
Julia frowned. “But it’s so small inside. Won’t everyone just be able to hear if we speak normally?”
Tom shook his head. “No, the engine noise is really loud when we’re in the air. You could be yelling your head off in the back and we wouldn’t be able to hear you.”
Martin looked at Julia. She knew he would offer to sit in the back, but she also knew he would much prefer being up front.
“You take the front. I’ll be perfectly happy in the back,” she said.
Martin beamed, then helped her climb in. The orange leather seats were surprisingly comfortable, but her headphones were heavy and ill-fitting. She settled them on her head as best she could and tried to relax.
Tom contacted the Duxford tower to cancel the Guernsey flight plan, then called Newquay to find out if it was okay for them to land there later in the morning. Apparently, private flights could be altered much more easily than commercial ones. He did all the pre-flight checks and, before long, they were on the runway. As the tiny plane gathered speed, shaking as it went, Julia found herself gripping the edge of the seat. It was stupid for her confidence in the trip to have been so shaken just because of Tom’s youth, but she couldn’t seem to get past it. How much flying experience could he really have? Julia was pressed into her seat as they went faster and faster, her thoughts shying away from all the things that might go wrong. Her stomach lurched and her heart sank as the plane lifted off the ground.
Then the shaking stopped and they were soaring above the fields and towns, laid out like toys beneath them. The sun was shining and the landscape glowed. Being in such a small plane was very different to a large commercial airliner. It might feel less secure, but it was much more obvious that they really were in the air, which made the experience more visceral. Martin kept pointing out things to look at, and Julia was reassured by Tom checking in with the various radio towers as the plane moved in and out of their territories. At least people in authority knew where they were and were tracking their progress.
The plane’s motion was now entirely smooth, and Julia started to enjoy herself. Relief made her stomach growl so she laid into the snacks she had packed.
They were about ninety minutes into the flight when Tom started to shift about in his seat, craning to look out of the windows in all directions. As he turned sideways, Julia could see his brows were drawn down in a frown.
“The forecast was for clear skies, but the clouds are getting heavier up ahead,” he said. “I’m not sure I can get through in the direction we want to go.”
The pretty, fluffy clouds Julia had been admiring were transformed into potential hazards, menacing the tiny plane and its fragile passengers.
Tom banked and turned, looking for a way through. After such a smooth flight so far, the sharp motion and swooping turns made Julia regret eating so much. She was also developing a nasty headache from the way the headset dragged at her ears.
“I’ll try and get above them,” Tom said. He didn’t sound confident, and Julia shivered.
But she couldn’t comment and Martin raised no objection, so up they went. The plane bucked and lurched as they entered the clouds, Julia’s stomach mirroring its movements. She’d never felt turbulence like it. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to dispel images of the plane shattered on the ground and their bodies flung from the wreckage. Tom quickly decided they wouldn’t make it through, and turned the plane’s nose downwards. They descended at speed, blank whiteness surrounding them. Julia only realised she was holding her breath when they emerged and could see the ground again. By this time, though, it was raining, so the plane’s motion remained jerky.
“We’re not going to make it to Newquay,” Tom said. “I think we need to land.”
Julia shuddered at how little was actually separating her from the outside elements, and how vulnerable they were to the vagaries of those elements. The windows vibrated as though they might fly off the plane altogether at any moment, while the low ceiling and narrow cockpit closed in, seeming ever more inadequate to the task of protecting them.
Tom identified a nearby airfield on his map and raised them on the radio to let them know the little plane was heading their way. Several minutes later, however, he still hadn’t located the airfield by sight, even with Martin trying to help.
“I can see a farm strip just down there,” Tom said. “We’ll try for that.”
A farm strip? Julia imagined a dirt track cut into a field and swallowed. But by this point she just wanted to be on the ground before she inadvertently redecorated the inside of the plane. Tom swung around to get a better angle, but it was no good.
“The rain’s too heavy,” he said. “I can’t see the ground.”
“So, what do we do now?” Martin voiced the question that was foremost in Julia’s mind as well.
“It’s okay,” Tom said. “We’ll just go on to the next airfield and hope the weather’s a bit better further on.” He threw a brief smile over his shoulder.
Julia appreciated his efforts, but it was difficult to be reassured when she was expending most of her energy in not being sick. She had been entirely vomit-free for eighteen years, since that disastrous trip to Disneyland Paris, and she wasn’t going to break her streak several thousand feet in the air. It also gave her something else to think about, other than the possibility that they might be about to die.
Tom tried to raise the Yeovil tower, but there was no response. The rain was really coming down now, and the plane was jumping about. Julia was gripping the edge of the seat again, and wishing she could talk to her companions. But what could she say? Would she offer support to Tom, or would she just start screaming, “I don’t want to die!” Her breaths were coming short and fast, and she swallowed down bile every few seconds.
“Henstridge,” Tom said. “There’s an airfield there. We’ll try that.”
The strain in his voice sent a chill down Julia’s spine.
Henstridge’s operator responded to Tom’s hails and was very happy to allow the plane to land. But they weren’t on the ground yet and, as they hurtled towards what looked like a very short runway, Julia wondered how word of their terrible deaths would reach her parents.
As the plane bounced on contact, Julia let out a squawk she was glad the others couldn’t hear. Then they were speeding along the ground and drawing to a halt next to several other small planes. A collective sigh of relief reverberated around the cockpit, and Tom steered the plane to a parking spot.
Julia was decidedly shaky on climbing out of the plane, and Martin had to steady her with a concerned hand on her arm. The fresh air and solid ground beneath her feet made her feel instantly better, though, even with the driving rain full in her face. They ran together to the main airfield building, cold water trickling down Julia’s back. They reached the door of an unassuming prefab block that didn’t look much sturdier than the plane, but at least it wasn’t hurtling through the air. The three of them tumbled in, to the combined stares of a group of people gathered round one of the tables. There was a brief moment of tense silence and Julia wondered if they had exchanged death by plane crash for death by crazy locals. Then a portly man in a checked shirt and bristly moustache bustled forwards.
“Welcome, welcome!” he said. “Come in, come in. You’re soaked. Let’s get you some tea.”
❦ ❦ ❦
So now, here they are, tucking into an amazing breakfast, while the rain lashes down outside. The cafe at Henstridge airfield is bright and airy, with gingham tablecloths and comfy cushioned chairs. It’s a bit like being in a cosy B&B, if said B&B was surrounded by fields, with no obvious way to leave.
Martin’s attention is focused on his food, but Julia watches Tom glancing out at the weather every few minutes. She just wants to enjoy the meal before they have to talk about next steps, so she doesn’t say anything. If this is going to be her last meal before getting back in the plane, she’s going to savour every mouthful. Once they’re all finished and the plates have been cleared, Tom looks at them both, his expression glum.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he says.
This immediately ignites Julia’s sympathy and prompts a brave face.
“Don’t be silly,” she says, keeping her tone bright. “It’s hardly your fault the weather turned on us. And you did an amazing job getting us down safely.” Now the fear of the situation has subsided, she can actually appreciate this, and it’s important to let him know that. “Besides, there are worse places to wait out a storm.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” Martin asks. “Waiting out the storm so we can fly back?”
Tom is fiddling with his phone. “Yes, I think so. The forecast suggests it should clear up in a few hours. And as long as we take off again by 4pm, we should make it back to Duxford before dark.”
Getting back in the plane is the last thing Julia wants to think about right now, and the idea of flying in the growing dark if they are further delayed sparks terror in her chest. But she smiles and nods. They’re in the middle of nowhere in Somerset. How else will they get home if they don’t fly?
Over the next few hours, the weather supports the theory that the world’s axis is out of whack. It shifts from pouring rain to blazing sunshine and back on a twenty minute cycle. Tom’s mood and Julia’s shift likewise in opposite directions; his brightening with the weather, and hers with each return to wind and rain. They pass the time as best they can. Martin and Tom get into an enthusiastic and lengthy discussion of something incomprehensibly technical, while Julia tries to read and speculates inwardly as to their chances of making it home alive.
As 4pm approaches, Tom is on the phone with the tower at Duxford, as the skies over Henstridge remain clear for the longest period so far. Julia is trying to resign herself to the necessity of getting back in the plane, while every fibre of her being rails against it. She wonders if she can summon the courage to say just how much she hates the idea of flying back. She doesn’t want to disappoint Martin, or make Tom feel as if she doesn’t trust him, but her fear is steadily gaining ground over her desire to avoid making a fuss.
Tom walks back over to the table, his mouth set in a thin line.
“There’s a lightning storm over Duxford,” he says. “There’s no way we’ll make it back there in the plane today, even if the weather holds for a safe take-off.”
Julia schools her expression towards disappointment, while secretly harbouring a huge sense of relief.
“So, what are our options?” Martin asks.
Tom sighs. “We’ll have to get the train back from Yeovil. I’ll go and check with the guys here if it’s okay to leave the plane.”
“Poor Tom,” Martin says as he trudges away. “I bet he feels terrible about this. But this’ll make a much better story than if we’d just gone to Guernsey for the day.”
Good old Martin. Julia can always rely on him to see the best in things. She wonders if there was any point in the flight out when he was as scared as she was.
Ten minutes later, Julia watches Martin and Tom struggling with ropes and pegs to secure the plane. The rain is back, battering them as they work. She offered to help, but Tom said there was no point in all of them getting soaked again, and Martin’s stronger than her. As she tries not to feel too guilty at being in the dry, a full wine glass appears over her shoulder, and their friendly host plonks the rest of the bottle next to it on the table.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re having such a nightmare,” he says. “It’s a real shame you’ll need to get the train home. I thought you could use some refreshment as compensation.”
Julia is too surprised to do more than stammer a thank you.
When Tom and Martin drag themselves back in from the rain, they find her relaxing in an armchair, sipping wine, with what she is sure is a disgustingly smug expression on her face.
“Seriously?” Martin is less than impressed.
Julia toasts him with a smile, then mollifies him with the offer of a glass of his own.
Not long after, they bid their host farewell, with many thanks for his hospitality. Tom throws a parting glance at the plane, and they head out to a waiting taxi. The proprietor follows them out and offers Julia the half-empty bottle of wine.
“To make the train more palatable,” he says.
It’s sweet that he thinks having to get the train back to London is such a disappointment to her. Julia decides not to disillusion him.
“Oh, no, thanks,” she says. “I think I’ve had enough.”
As he climbs into the taxi, Tom says, “Once I’ve got the plane back, we should plan a trip to Scotland.”
Martin grins over at Julia. “That sounds like a great idea. What do you think, love?”
Julia turns back to the proprietor and grabs the bottle of wine. “On second thought…”
Annie Percik lives in London, where she writes novels and short stories, whilst working as a University Complaints Officer. She writes a blog about writing on her website, which is where all her current publications are listed, including her debut fantasy novel, The Defiant Spark. She also makes a media review podcast with her husband, Dave, and publishes a photo-story blog, recording the adventures of her teddy bear. He is much more popular online than she is.
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