Dying for Millions Read Online Free

tone of his voice suggested he was particularly proud of something which I’ve always considered anathema. Imagine it – a weekend being swung from the end of a wet rope by a boss you couldn’t swear at …
    â€˜So how could our students help? In the short term, that is?’
    For answer he took me out of his office, back into the corridor: another code-controlled door, this time into an office. From the windows you could see an immense aircraft sitting on the runway, disgorging containers. There was, I suppose, some background noise from the trucks and the plane itself, but nothing outrageous enough to disturb two women who were tapping at computer keyboards like creatures possessed. Their area was sectioned off by sound-screens, forming a self-contained enclave.
    â€˜This is where the usual secretarial stuff is done.’ He stopped by the section nearest the door. ‘Morning, Sal – how’s Kieran?’
    â€˜Still teething. Especially at three in the morning.’
    â€˜Ron doing his share?’
    â€˜When he remembers.’
    â€˜Make sure he does!’
    I wasn’t sure how to take that little exchange. It seemed genuine, but I’m always suspicious of public displays designed to show what a brilliant, caring employer you are. I smiled sympathetically at Sal, who smiled back without any hint of irony. Perhaps he
was
simply a good manager.
    â€˜Tell me,’ Winfield began, ‘how flexible your students would be in their working hours.’
    â€˜They’d normally do the same as everyone else – nine till five.’
    â€˜Ah. That limits us slightly. You see, we’re at our busiest between the hours of nine and twelve.’ He paused for effect. ‘In the evening.’
    â€˜Is that why it’s so quiet now? I’d expected to be yelling over the sound of incoming or outgoing aircraft.’
    â€˜That’s right.’ He guided me to a window. ‘See, it’s mostly training flights during the day. I suppose you don’t fly yourself?’ His voice changed; I had an enthusiast on my hands.
    I watched a smallish aircraft bounce to an awkward halt. If it were me, I’d want to loop and dive; but then, I reminded myself sourly, I wouldn’t be able to. ‘I get vertigo,’ I said.
    â€˜So do I, on the ground. But never up there. I’ve even done parachute jumps! You should learn. Think about it!’ When he smiled his face was transformed.
    I reflected briefly on the use flying would be to a woman from semi-detached Harborne with a job that consumed lunch-times and weekends like a gull gobbled fish. But I did feel a nasty yearning. And if Andy was learning to fly a helicopter, why shouldn’t I? No. For him flying made absolute sense. For me?
    â€˜One day, maybe,’ I said, non-committally. Then I found myself smiling back and adding, ‘Actually, I should love to.’ What I had to do was direct the conversation back to education and the needs of my students – tactfully for preference. ‘When did you learn? Were you an air cadet or something?’
    â€˜Fire Service, actually. That’s how I got involved in training.’
    â€˜That sounds an unusual career path!’
    He laughed. ‘I was responsible for health and safety. And as I said, an airport is a dangerous place – you should see it at night when we’re busy with all the Parcel Force traffic. Planes and lorries. Someone had to take responsibility for all the casual staff we’ve got out there and when I hurt my hip – oh, I fell through a roof – the company offered to take me on. Good of them. New General Manager – very enlightened. Anyway, since I started, there have only been a couple of incidents, neither of them serious. Whereas before, we were beginning to have trouble getting insurance.’
    â€˜You must be doing a good job.’
    â€˜We all work hard here. Which brings me back to your