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think now was the time to admit that the jobs had bored him to tears.
    The man was silent for a moment and Ethan realized he still hadn’t introduced himself. Perhaps it wasn’t Sam? It could be anyone. Who was he talking to?
    ‘Why do you want this job?’
    Ethan was silent for a moment, thinking.
    ‘This is a skydiving centre,’ the man went on. ‘People only come here if they’ve got a sense of purpose, even if that purpose is simply to jump. I don’t do layabouts or slackers. You want to waste your time, then you leave right now. So, do you have a purpose, Ethan? Well?’
    For a few seconds Ethan didn’t know what to say. Then a picture of his dad lying passed out on the sofa flashed into his mind – along with a reason for being there. It made total sense. ‘I don’t want to waste my summer,’ he said at last, almost with relief, as though hearing the words made him realize just how true they were. ‘And I’m thinking of joining the Royal Marines. I figured working here I’d meet some interesting people, learn some relevant skills . . .’
    The man wrote something down, then looked up again. Ethan could feel his eyes drilling into him like they were searching for something. ‘Where did you find out about the job?’
    ‘Your website.’
    The man raised an eyebrow. ‘You skydive?’
    Ethan shook his head. ‘No. I bumped into someone who does. His MySpace site had a link.’
    ‘Johnny?’
    Ethan nodded.
    ‘Hmmm . . .’
    Silence.
    ‘When can you start?’
    Ethan looked up, surprised. ‘Pardon?’
    ‘Ignoring the fact that the deadline for applications expired a week ago,’ said the man, ‘when can you start? I need someone immediately.’
    Ethan felt a smile spreading across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.
    ‘You busy today?’
    ‘No,’ said Ethan.
    ‘You are now,’ the man told him. He stood up and offered Ethan his hand once again. ‘I’m Sam,’ he said. ‘I run FreeFall. Welcome aboard.’
    Unable to find anything to say, Ethan grinned and shook Sam’s hand. Once again he noticed the strength of the grip. But there was something else that struck him. It was the way Sam had said, ‘Welcome aboard.’ It was as though he really meant it, like it was one of the most important things he could say to anyone.
    ‘Wait in the café and I’ll sort out the paperwork,’ said Sam.
    At last Ethan managed a ‘Thanks, that’s great.’
    Sam turned. He wasn’t smiling. ‘Survive your first week, and I’ll believe you.’
    Sam wasted no time in getting Ethan known around the centre, introducing him to far too many people for Ethan to remember all their faces, never mind their names. The job, Sam explained, required Ethan to be available across the centre to help out whenever and wherever necessary. And no sooner had he learned the ropes in one area than he was whisked off to another. By the end of the day Ethan had taken bookings, sorted out DVDs of people’s first skydives and static line jumps, guided groups from the hangars to the DZ, watched the training for a tandem skydive, manned the tills in the shop, sold a couple of skydiving rigs, called groups to their jump over the tannoy system, and washed dishes for Nancy, who ran the café. Everyone had been friendly from the off, particularly Nancy, who was plump, but wore it proudly, like it was an advert for her food.
    It was soon early evening and Ethan was sweeping the yard area in front of the hangar when Sam came over. He stood, arms folded, looking at Ethan.
    ‘Well?’
    Ethan stopped sweeping. ‘It’s cool,’ he said, and meant it. ‘It’s an amazing place. Thanks for giving me the job.’
    ‘Don’t get all Hollywood on me,’ said Sam. ‘No one else applied. I’ll see you tomorrow. Eight o’clock.’
    That night Ethan drifted off to sleep with his mind full of the dozens of faces, young and old, he’d seen happily throwing themselves out of planes.
    Whatever it was about skydiving, about