DEDICATION

To Anne

CHARACTERS

John Heron. Unfunny John. Comic.

Emma Heron. His wife. Morgue assistant.

Penny Lock. Talk-show host.

Graham Johansson. Pilot.

Samuel Thorn. Actor. Wooden.

Cody Jameson. Writer. Real name Lily Frankburg.

Dr. Frankburg. Father. Self-help therapist.

Dan Bronski. Air crash investigator.

Ali Bronski. Daughter. Counterfeit therapist.

Stephanie Wiltshire. Ex-stewardess. Speaking to you.

Edward Wiltshire. Ex-fireman. Shouting at you.

Beth Davies. Née Wiltshire. Sister. Aerophobe.

Michael Davies. Husband. Air traffic controller.

The pharmaceutical CEO.

Tamy. His daughter.

The ex-government agent. No gun.

Miles. Nightclub manager.

Clara Redlake. Therapist. Eye catcher.

Kirsten Henderson. Dead actress.

Ronald Henderson. Dead father.

THE TROPOSPHERE

Five miles high, over the Atlantic. The jet stream pushing east, atmosphere thin, pressure low, the world spinning counterclockwise.

A plane finds a swift westerly and hitches a ride. Five hundred knots. Crossing time zones.

Its name is SA109. Its tail fin is green and so are its passengers. The cabin crew smile but unconvincingly.

The sea, the sky, and the spirit are all black.

Not the flight recorder though. That’s orange. There are arrows on the wings pointing to its location. Recording now. One, two, one two.

It is a decisive journey. For me, at least.

I have a little radio with me. I twist the dial trying to find a phone-in, “Flight Fright,” or “Funny Phobias.” Or even Tommy Tempo’s Nite Moods Orchestra. He’s a catchy arranger. You can dance all night long with Tommy Tempo. He does a smooth “Don’t Fence Me In” by Bing Crosby using a tenor sax for Bing’s voice and some clarinets for the Andrews Sisters.

It would be good to have some music now. It’s good for keeping the spirits up.

But the plane flies through frequencies so fast I can’t find any stations. Either that or it’s broken. Or there’s something wrong with my ears.

And I am freezing.

And I am light-headed.

And it is very hard to keep a train of thought.

There are stewardesses aboard this plane, and a flight engineer, and a copilot, and a pilot with good teeth and a deep voice.

He is in the toilet. Washing his face, looking at himself in the mirror, he feels old, muttering his thoughts: Not everyone so well. Not everyone so happy. Not everyone so glad.