Page 51 of Never Tear Us Apart
I watch for a few painstaking seconds as Danny’s trembling hands attempt to button his shirt.
‘Let me,’ I say, gently pushing his hands out of the way.
He watches me as I do barely a better job than him, my own fingers clumsy and foolish. Between us, we dress him again. I put the heavy flying jacket back onto his shoulders and return the boots to his bare feet, pulling them on with some effort.
‘Awful embarrassing to admit I don’t got no socks,’ Danny says, a little sheepish.
‘Can you stand?’ I ask him, glancing at the milling crowd, in which a sort of festive air has broken out.
‘My legs ain’t broke,’ he says. ‘But I got a feeling they might be made of water.’
‘Then lean on me,’ I say. He hooks his arm through mine as he makes it slowly to his feet, tests first one and then the other.
‘I should be dead,’ he mutters. ‘Why the hell ain’t I dead?’
‘I’m glad you’re not,’ I whisper, turning to look at him. ‘Really glad.’
‘Maybe you are my lucky charm, Stitches.’
‘No such thing as luck,’ I say. ‘Your expertise got you out of that.’
Once we’ve managed to get to the line of passengers, all waiting to be photographed with the miracle pilot, Danny is walking unaided. I watch as he shakes hands and thanks everyone there, before standing in the middle of the passengers to have his picture taken. I tag on at the end, feeling like I don’t belong here but wanting to be part of the celebration. Just as the photographer snaps, the kid hands Danny a battered old comic to look at. It’sBiggles.
Laughter and relief spread through each of us as we make our way back to the bus, Danny leading the way, holding forth on every exciting and dangerous detail of his crash landing.
It’s more than just his escape that has thrilled them, I realise. He has survived – he has cheated death. And if he can, then so can anyone. We all need to believe that.
Chapter Thirty-Five
By the time Vittoria and I get the pram back onto the bus, Danny is already sitting in the back seat, his arms outstretched either side of him, as if he’s on a pleasant Sunday-afternoon trip, like he hasn’t a care in the world.
The other passengers have crammed into every other part of the vehicle, letting him have the whole back row to himself. The doctor’s little boy stares at him over the back of the seat in front. His mother puts her hand on top of her son’s head and turns it away.
Danny gives me a bone-weary smile and pats the seat next to him. I gesture down at the pram that is blocking my way.
‘You must go,’ Vittoria tells me, lifting the pram out of the way just enough so that I can squeeze past. Everyone on the bus is looking at me. ‘It’s so romantic! Go,’ she urges, her eyes full of stars, as I roll my own.
I make my way up to Danny, doing my best not to look anyone in the face, especially him.
‘How are you coping?’ I ask as I sit down next to him. At once, his weight leans into mine.
‘I’m in shock, I guess,’ he replies, keeping his voice low so that only I can hear. ‘Like nothing seems real, and maybe all this – you, even – is a trick. Sometime later tonight, I’m gonna cry for my ma and tremble and shake, and even take a goddamn drink. But I ain’t gonna let these good folk see that. They don’t want no shaking wreck patrolling their skies. They need to believe I’m Errol goddamn Flynn, abona fide hero, and not just some no-good fool trying to stay alive.’
His honesty shocks me, and moves me too.
‘Youarea hero.’ I turn to look at his profile. His skin is still streaked with smoke, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His sweaty hair falls matted over the bridge of his nose. ‘How the hell did you get that plane down? It looked hopeless.’
‘Well, you got to know your Spit like she’s the love of your life, see?’ Danny says, with the ghost of a smile that shows genuine affection. ‘So, you know what’s gonna make her smile and what’s gonna make her purr. That’s what it’s like when it’s you and your gal in the sky – it’s like a marriage: one part intuition, one part heart, and then the rest is hard study. When you know her, when youreallyknow her, then when the time comes, you don’t have to think about what to do. Your body already knows. You put her in a sweet spot, and even if she’s on fire, she’ll still give you anything you ask of her. If you know how to ask her right, that is.’
‘Do they teach you flirting at pilot school, or are you just a natural?’ I ask, wanting to give him some distraction.
But when his eyes meet mine, they are intense and full of fear.
‘That goddamn plane wasn’t shot at – just something loose in the engine. That’s no way to go in a war.’ Barely repressed anger threads through every hushed word. ‘There’s no honour in death by rivet. I fought that goddamn rivet harder than I’ve fought any Nazi. I guess I could have just sat back and let it happen, but that ain’t me, Stitches. I was gonna wrestle that bitch into the damn ground and make sure that when it’s my turn, it’s for a good reason.’
‘You did it. You are an incredible pilot.’
‘I am.’ He nods, swallows hard; tears threaten. ‘But no matter what you say, it takes a damn good slug of luck to walk away from something like that.’
