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"Morning, Martin," Douglas said, striding onto the flight deck.
"Morning, Douglas," Martin said, and then looked up at him expectantly.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Yes what?"
"It looked as if you were waiting for something. Perhaps my answer should have been 'No,' as in - 'No, I am still not a mind reader.'"
Martin rolled his eyes and turned his back to him, fussing over the console. For the next few minutes Douglas caught him glancing in his direction once in a while as if waiting for something, then Martin's shoulders slumped.
"Clear skies expected from here to Schwechat, our alternate is Aspern, you operate out, I'll operate back," Martin droned, his enthusiasm approaching, for once, that of Douglas on a typical flight, one without film stars or generous tippers.
Douglas raised his eyebrows. "Sir can operate out if he so wishes, I don't care..."
"No, no, it's fine."
"Glad to hear that. I've rarely seen Sir so enthralled by the prospect of a trip before."
Martin sighed.
"It's not the trip, it's the clients. I can't believe that I'm missing the stag parties already."
"What's wrong, Martin? Not feeling the love for Britain's future generations at the moment?"
"A horde of spoilt kids at a birthday party? No, no love lost there."
"Ah, I see. Don't worry, you're safe. None of the children is a secret karate expert - I've checked."
Martin scowled. "How about tai-chi, have you checked for that?" he snapped.
Douglas' lips became a thin line.
"Oh, God, Douglas, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry!"
"Oh, you're going to be. If you thought you had it hard so far, Sonny Jim..."
"No, I mean, I'm sorry now. It was a very petty thing to say and... I'm sorry. I had no right to take it out on you."
Douglas was still upset - it wasn't the remark per se, it was that it could still get to him, and that it was Martin, of all people, who got to rib him about it.
"Take what out on me? The horrible presence of innocent, happy children on your aircraft? The horrible presence of their paying guardians?"
"No, nothing, just... nothing!"
The door opened at that precise moment.
"'Nothing' is exactly what I expect to hear when I ask you if there's a problem," Carolyn said.
"Hello, Carolyn," they said in unison.
"Hello, flying monkeys. Is there a problem?"
"No," they said, Martin with a sigh, and Douglas with a superior arch of his eyebrows and a glance towards Martin. The eyebrows and the glance said that while there was, of course, no problem, if there had been any, it would have been related to the Captain. Carolyn ignored the subtle communication with brisk unconcern.
"Good boys!" she declared. "Now I'm going back to keep an eye on the brat pack and make sure they don't confuse any of our more detachable fixtures with souvenirs."
The cabin was crawling with kids. It was like herding a dozen little Arthurs. Thank God they weren't her responsibility, Carolyn thought, looking smugly at the harangued parents.
Arthur himself, however, was as happy as a pig in mud, making and distributing party hats and juggling apples and oranges with the children.
"Oh, your son is so good with kids!" one of the mothers said. "It's remarkable, the way he can still play with them and understand the children's worldview. He must be very in touch with his inner child."
Carolyn examined her face for any signs of mockery, but Mrs Hollis' awe seemed genuine.
"Arthur is not so much in touch with his inner child, as he is his inner child."
"Oh, that's... wonderful?" Mrs Hollis said uncertainly.
"Yes, on this occasion at least it's a priceless resource, as long as your children withstand the endurance test."
"Oh, these little devils?" Mrs Hollis exclaimed. "Arthur will be lucky if they don't wear him out before landing!"
Carolyn nodded politely.
"Oh, you know, Mrs Shappey," Mrs Hollis began in a more uncertain tone, "I know this is irregular, but the children are so enthusiastic about flying, and since it's just a small plane and a short flight... Would it be possible for them to meet the Captain?"
"Hm," said Carolyn. "I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, thank you so much!"
The flight-deck door burst open again, and Carolyn charged in.
"Right. I don't want any fuss about it, but the sprogs want to see a Captain in the cabin. You know what that means."
Martin groaned.
"What did I say about making a fuss?"
"I am a professional airline pilot," Martin began. "I don't have time to be paraded around for the benefit of spoilt children. Douglas can go."
Douglas had just been about to lean towards Martin with an insincere smile and a hand ready to snatch his hat, but Martin's words stopped him.
"Really, Martin? But you're the Captain!"
"Yes, of course I am the Captain. I know I'm the Captain, though you only seem to remember it when it suits you."
"Well, as the Captain, it hardly behoves you to condone lying and misappropriation of the uniform, especially in front of little children..."
"Douglas, I don't care what petty vendetta you and this surprisingly cooperative Martin have got going on now, but when I said I didn't want any fuss I was addressing all the pilots of MJN currently present. Chop-chop!"
Douglas sighed and took some measure of revenge in Martin's instinctive tightening of fingers around the hat before he conceded it to Douglas.
Martin had barely readjusted his hat safely on his head, after Douglas had presumably paraded with it in front of a small army of kids, when the door was flung open again.
"Hello, chaps!" Arthur's cheery voice burst onto the flight deck two seconds before Arthur himself. "I have a special treat for you today, Skipper!"
"Oh, really?" Martin felt a tiny flutter of hope. Maybe he hadn't forgotten after all. Maybe he'd just waited until they were properly in the air-
"Viennese coffee!" Arthur announced proudly, dashing any incipient hopes. "You know, 'cause we're going to Vienna?" he added when Martin failed to share his enthusiasm.
"Isn't that coffee with everything in it, even things that have no business being inside of coffee?"
"Oh, don't worry, Douglas, I know you like tea, so I've made Viennese tea for you!"
Douglas' mouth twitched in displeasure, but not even the thought that Douglas' tea had been as mauled as his coffee did anything to comfort Martin.
"Arthur, you know I like my coffee black. That means with nothing in it, nothing that is not bitter, strong coffee!"
"Yeah, but, don't you like to shake things up a little? Have some fun? Me, I always try to put something in my tea I haven't tried before. Every week, a new flavour."
Martin sighed.
"That's great for you, Arthur."
"Well, the parsley week wasn't so fun-"
"I'm going to get my own coffee." Martin stood up, stretching.
"Oh, no! You can't go in, Skip!"
"What?"
"In the cabin, i-i-it's not...safe for you."
"Surely our Captain is a match for ten year olds, Arthur..."
"That's just it, they, um," Arthur lowered his voice, "they think Douglas is the Captain."
"Oh, I know. I don't care."
Arthur's eyes rounded in worried disbelief.
"Skipper, are you all right?"
Martin felt uncomfortable under that sincere, candid gaze.
"Yes, I'm fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"You never not care!"
"Well, maybe I've gained a little more confidence in my status as a Captain, and I don't attach any importance to whether a bunch of children believe I'm a Captain or not."
"Well, if you're sure, Skip..."
"Yes, I'm sure! And I was only going to the galley anyway. That's where the coffee is, as any idiot should know."
Arthur was unnervingly perceptive for an idiot, Martin thought glumly. Too bad his memory wasn't in the same league. Or maybe he really didn't know. Maybe none of them knew. But they should have, he thought resolutely, and went in search of the bitterest coffee that could be brewed aboard Gertie.
Two hours later, when Carolyn oversaw the preparations for the final descent into Schwechat, the passenger cabin was completely silent. Some of the kids had to be woken from naps to have their seat belts fastened again.
The landing was smooth, which didn't surprise Carolyn - according to the briefing, this was Douglas' flight. The children clapped loudly and cheered even louder, but none of them tried to jump out of their seats, which did surprise her a little.
"Oh, this is amazing!" Mrs Hollis cooed. "I've never seen them so well-behaved for the landing before. Your son is a great influence!"
The children filed out of the plane in a row, each of them saluting Arthur with a hand to their party hats.
"You're doing great at charades, Mary-Lou! And I have a load of ideas for the flight back!" Arthur shouted, waving happily after the children.
"Hm, is Mary-Lou your favourite then?"
"She's the birthday girl, Mum! She won all the games, which is a great coincidence," he added, scrunching his face into a two-eyed wink, "since it's her birthday!"
Carolyn sighed.
"Stop doing that with your face and hoover the plane. Your filthy team of proteges have littered worse than the stag dos."
Douglas had no idea where Martin had disappeared to during the layover, but it didn't seem to have improved his foul mood. If anything, his face was even longer.
"Post-bloody-take-off checks finally complete," Martin said, slapping the last button a bit harder than necessary.
It was the last straw; Martin never mistreated the plane - not on purpose, anyway.
"But Martin, I thought you loved doing the post-take-off checks! Come on, out with it: what dreadful offence has the universe committed against MJN Captains named Martin that's made you even more miserable than usual? You've been insufferable all day."
"No, I haven't. It's just been a stupidly long day, and you pestering me about it won't make it any shorter."
Martin's reply had no heat or real anger behind it. It was the flatness of it that worried Douglas. He began counting off the day's incidents.
"You've been uncharacteristically surly about the children's birthday party, you've been going on and on about the Austrian art of patisserie... Oh."
Martin turned even farther away from him, so that Douglas could only see the ginger spikes of hair sticking out from under the hat.
"Is it... Martin, is it your birthday today?"
Martin shrugged, his shoulders hunching even more.
"What if it was? Just another day in the year, planes to fly, passengers to cart all over the continent. No reason anyone should make any fuss about it."
"No reason you should be angsting like a misplaced Byronic hero then either, Captain Doom von Gloomenstein."
"I'm not... angsting!"
"Yes, you are. You are angsting so intensely that I expect a little raven to pop out from the cloud of gloom over your head and perch on the cupboard, any moment now."
"What?"
Douglas sighed. "Never mind. At least I know what I'll be getting you for your birthday."
"Hm, so now you care that it's my birthday?"
"One cannot care about something one is not aware of. Now that I know, it offers me an opportunity to honour it, and Sir, properly."
"Oh, God, I'm going to wish you never found out, aren't I?"
"You don't know when my birthday is."
"You didn't have to work on your birthday. You were probably partying with your friends."
Douglas didn't say anything, because it was true.
"And I do know. August 12."
Douglas raised his eyebrows and Martin shrugged.
"I asked Carolyn."
"You didn't tell me anything."
"Well, like I said, we didn't fly on your birthday, and by the time we met it was already late, and... you didn't need me to wish you anything, and I couldn't get you anything that you'd actually want. What could I give to the man who has everything, and never stops reminding me of it? I let you operate the plane both ways on our next trip, but you didn't think that was odd."
"Hm, I remember. I thought the cheesecake hadn't agreed with you, and I didn't want to be indiscreet while you settled your internal arguments..."
"It doesn't matter. I thought at least Carolyn... I mean, that's not why I asked her about it, but I just thought it would... ring a bell."
"Ah, you thought it would put it on her mental wallchart, as it were."
"Yes, you know - the crew's birthdays. We could make it into an event. I mean, she expected us to remember her birthday last year..."
"I remember. You still haven't paid me for those orchids, by the way. Hmm. This could be my present to you, if the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe aren't impressive enough for you. Speaking of, though, didn't you have a birthday last year? I think I would have noticed and not forgotten a sulking fit of this size..."
"I was hauling boxes for my last birthday."
"Ah, there you go, it could have been worse!" Douglas said brightly. "You love flying. It is, as you've pointed out in the past, your hobby, not your job. So, you're not working on your birthday, you're indulging in your hobby. What more could one want?"
"When you were a medical student," Martin said dryly, "were you studying to be a spin doctor?"
"Oh, Captain." Douglas grinned. "Studying? I could be teaching it."
Martin huffed. "Right. Anyway, I didn't really expect Carolyn to do anything. Maybe just a joke about my getting older but no wiser, that sort of thing. But she didn't even look at me - well, a dozen noisy kids plus parents, who can blame her. And I didn't really expect Arthur to... well, my expectations of Arthur are exceeded every time he remembers his own birthday."
"Ah."
"No, I didn't really expect you to do anything either. I guess that is the problem, that I have no one outside my siblings and mother to expect anything from. And it just... it doesn't help that I'm turning thirty-three and..."
"Martin, if it was that important you should've just told us."
"But that... that wouldn't have meant anything and it would have just been... pathetic."
"Oh, and this isn't?"
"Oh, very good. Just when you had me fooled into thinking you cared."
"I'm sorry, Martin, but it's true. And you're being unfair to Arthur. He adores you, he basically thinks you're Tom Cruise, Biggles, and Bomber Harris, rolled into a '3 for the price of 1' unholy trinity of flight idols. He'd have loved to mull some wine for you, or decorate your hat as a cake, or God knows what other acts of devotion he can devise."
A long silence ensued, ended by a strained smile.
"I guess you're right."
"When am I not?"
"I can't tell them now though."
"And why not?"
"What I am supposed to say? Oh by the way, it's my birthday too, this is a subtle hint to throw me a surprise party? It would look as if I'm begging for attention."
"Entirely unprecedented, that."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing. I always thought your hat was a sign of your modesty and laid-back manner..."
"That's different! The hat is a symbol of authority."
"The party hat, on the other hand, is a symbol of having fun."
"No, Douglas, promise me you won't say anything to Carolyn!"
"Oh, fine. But you must at least allow me to present you with a homage, Sir."
Douglas disappeared into the galley and came back a few minutes later.
"Happy 30k feet birthday, Captain."
"Thank you, Douglas," Martin said automatically, "that's very kind of- Douglas. Is that... a fishcake?"
"Of course. Why should you get any less than Carolyn? Besides, it's practically an MJN tradition now."
"One occurrence doesn't make a tradition, Douglas."
"Two occurrences, with today."
Martin shook his head, attacking the fishcake with the plastic fork.
"Arthur will love it when it's his turn."
"Of course, by the time it's my turn again, the joke will have got old and you'll have to break tradition by going back to the basics..."
"Ha! You wish, Douglas, you wish."
He should have known going out there was a mistake, but the galley should have been safe. He should have known nowhere was safe with children around, and especially with children supervised by Arthur.
"Oh, look," a childish voice shrieked suddenly. "Look, another captain!"
Martin stood stiffly, surrounded - some might even have said 'cornered' - by a group of enthusiastic kids, the tallest of whom was barely shorter than himself.
"No, they can't both be the Captain," said a small boy, clearly a precocious know-it-all. "There's only one Captain, and we met him, the tall one."
"Well, he had the hat then," countered Mary-Lou, "but now the short one has the hat."
Martin straightened his back, trying to appear as tall as it was humanly possible for him.
"Ooh, maybe they pass it around, and whoever has it is the Captain!"
"Oh, oh," came further shrieks, "can I be the Captain, mister?"
"No!" Martin shouted, grabbing his hat protectively. "I'm the Captain, you can't be the Captain!"
"Oh." Mary-Lou pouted, tilting her head and pulling on her sleeves.
"It's not the hat that makes a Captain. You have to go to a flight school, and learn and sit a lot of difficult exams."
"I'm going to be a Captain when I grow up," the little boy said belligerently, "and I'll have five stripes on my hat, so there!"
"Can I be a Captain when I grow up, Mummy?" Mary-Lou asked plaintively.
"Of course, darling, you can be whatever you want to be," Mrs Hollis said, looking pointedly at Martin.
Martin abandoned - some might even have said 'fled' - the galley without his coffee, and returned to the relative safety of the flight-deck.
"Has Arthur considered a career in childcare?" Mrs Hollis asked Carolyn suddenly.
Carolyn contemplated for a moment a vision of Arthur in charge of an even larger group of children. Arthur and kids at the zoo. She shuddered. Arthur and brats, loose in a museum. She recoiled.
"Luckily for all of us, Arthur's love for aviation is unsurpassed. I'm afraid his life is dedicated to pushing a food trolley at thirty thousand feet in the air."
"Well, it's good to know that he'll be a great father when he decides to settle down and make you a grandmother," Mrs Hollis said, winking at Carolyn and patting her arm.
Carolyn narrowed her eyes, briefly considering speaking her mind. She reconsidered - there were young ears present, and Arthur was still hovering around.
"Thank you," she said in a clipped tone.
Douglas went to check on Martin, who was standing off to one side.
"I've never had anyone tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be," Martin said softly. "On my birthday or at any other time."
"And yet, here you are," Douglas said, trying to infuse his voice with... well, admiration was perhaps too much of a stretch, but he made an effort to tone down the sarcasm.
"Yeah, right," Martin said. "Anyway, I'll be off now."
"Big plans for tonight?" Douglas asked lightly.
"Ha, ha. No. See you next week, Douglas."
Douglas waited until Martin was out of hearing range, and then rounded on Carolyn.
"Carolyn, Arthur, a word with you, please."
Martin opened the fridge and took out the cake.
"I suppose it's just you and me, then."
He stabbed at it dejectedly with a knife. He regretted making Douglas promise he wouldn't tell Carolyn anything about the day. Pathetic or not, he'd have liked some acknowledgment, even belated.
The doorbell rang and he startled, dropping the knife on his toes - handle-first, luckily, but it was a heavy handle.
"Oh, for the love of..."
He rubbed at his foot while he half-ran, half-hopped towards the door. He peered through the peephole, found it obscured by an unknown object, and opened the door anyway.
"SURPRISE!" three voices exclaimed, chimed, and bellowed respectively, as the figures of Douglas, Carolyn, and Arthur came into view.
"Happy Birthday!" Arthur shouted, alerting the neighbourhood dogs within a three-mile radius.
"Oh, Martin, you silly creature!" Carolyn trilled, hugging him and kissing him on both cheeks. "I had no idea it was your birthday! Do you think I check personnel files every day? If Douglas hadn't pried it out of you..."
She shook her head and pushed past the befuddled Martin.
Arthur squeezed Martin in his arms and lifted him off the floor.
"Arthur!" Martin squeaked, flailing his arms.
"Happy Birthday, Skip! I didn't have time to make you a-a something, you should have made Douglas tell us earlier!"
"I... It's all right, Arthur. I'm just glad that you're here," he added in a smaller voice.
Arthur deposited Martin back on the floor, still hugging him tightly.
"No, don't worry, Skip! I can't let you celebrate without a party h- ahem. I brought my h... secret making kit with me! I'll get working on it while Mum unpacks the cake."
Arthur skipped merrily past Martin, clutching his not-so-secret hat-making kit. This left only one person in front of Martin's door, and thus in front of Martin.
"Hello, Captain."
"Hello, Douglas."
Martin gestured for him to enter, but Douglas lingered in the door. Martin blushed and smiled.
"Thanks, Douglas."
"For breaking my promise? Anytime, Captain." He quirked his mouth. "You do realise that now I expect something equally surprising for my birthday, don't you?"
"I shall strive to exceed your expectations, First Officer."
"You do that, sir." Douglas smiled again, in an alarmingly predatory manner, and then leaned close to kiss Martin on one cheek, while sneaking past him into the flat. "Now, I believe we have a gigantic genuine Sacher Torte to devour, and I'd like us to get to it before it drowns in candle wax. Coming, Captain? Those candles won't blow themselves out..."