Black Coffee

"Coffee chaps!" Arthur says cheerfully as he enters the cockpit. "One with everything in it for you Douglas—"

"Thank you," Douglas replies and takes a few sips.

"—And one with nothing in it for you Skip!"

"Thank you, Arthur." Martin smiles graciously, takes the warm ceramic mug and puts it aside.

"Ahh," Arthur exhales. "Isn't it nice that we have Christmas off this year?"

"That's only because," Douglas says with an edge to his voice. "we circled the date with a red permanent marker, drew arrows pointing to the makers of the wall chart's inscription indicating that it was in fact the baby Jesus' birthday and left a post-it gently reminding her that if she did accidentally book us a flight on Christmas we'd accidentally fly into a mountain."

"Yeah," Arthur responds dreamily as if he's just taken a bite of a Toblerone. "Too bad we didn't get Christmas Eve off. Or Christmas Eve Eve. Or Christmas Eve Eve Eve. Or Christmas Eve—"

"Shut up, Arthur." Douglas and Martin say simultaneously.

Arthur takes this in stride having been told this so many times throughout his life that he's lost count. He sits in the jump seat and takes off his steward hat to fiddle with it. "So what are you doing for Christmas Douglas?"

"Oh, I don't know. Sleep in a bit. Ring my daughter and wish her a merry one. Ask her if she likes all her presents. Go out and ingest a sushi for dinner."

Martin raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that basically what you wanted to do last year before we took that businessman to Hawaii and you ended up eating Santa burgers instead?"

"Yes it was, wasn't it?" Douglas sounds a bit smug. "And what about you Arthur? Are you and Carolyn having a traditional English Christmas? Crackers, stockings, pudding, the Queen's message and dare I say it? Father Christmas coming down the chimney to deliver your presents while you sleep in your bed?"

Arthur fidgets and plays with his hat. "Actually chaps... no."

Douglas and Martin share a quick glance before the first officer responses. "No?"

"Yes, I mean no." Arthur stumbles over his words. "The house is all decorated but mum's not going to be home this year."

"Prey tell where will the ice queen be spending Christmas this year?"

"Shetoldmenottotellyou!" He rushes his words together.

"Excuse me, Arthur?" Douglas cups his ear. "Didn't quite catch that."

Arthur exhales deeply and speaks slowly. "Mum told me not to tell you guys where she was going this Christmas."

"Why?" Martin inquires. "Why would Carolyn not want us to know what she's doing in her free time?"

"Is it because of who she's spending it with, Arthur?" Douglas asks, his voice hardening.

"I—" Arthur fumbles. "I— I—I--!"

Douglas growls, "Is Carolyn going to be with a certain Scottish airline God this holiday season?"

Arthur clasps his hands over his mouth. "I didn't tell you!" he says, his words muffled.

"Well good for Carolyn!" Douglas snarls. "I suppose that's why she couldn't make it for our run to Beijing? Her story being that she was deathly ill?"

"Um, yeah."

"Terrific."

They lapse into companionable silence as they make their way over Russia. The sky is a light blue, Arthur's favorite kind of blue. He wishes he could see the snow from here or catch a glimpse of some mountains or even some polar bears. He wonders if there were any polar bears in Russia. He makes a mental note to look it up on the internet when they land. Arthur sees that Douglas is holding back his fury, his face is strained. He sips on his coffee and slams it down, spilling some of the liquid over the tray each time with no apologies. Martin, on the other hand, looks relaxed although perhaps a bit peaked. It could be something he ate in Beijing. He did say before they left that he didn't like Chinese food all that much and he did order some rather odd smelling stuff at that restaurant last night. Arthur glances over to Martin's coffee and stares...