Chapter Text
The miserably rainy bank-holiday-weekend weather had blown away and the Tuesday morning was glorious, the sort of halcyon day that poets write about. Well, at least the poets he favored. It was the first fine day of the year, and Douglas Richardson was making the most of it. He put the top down on his Lexus and enjoyed the smell of spring as he drove. He took the long route to work and stopped at the bridge for a quick walk along the river. Even pulling into the airfield didn’t dampen his spirits. He whistled his way to the Portakabin and had just stepped inside when Carolyn’s office door flew open.
“Finally decided to turn up, did you? Come into my office, I want to have a word with you.”
“And a good morning to you, too,” he began, but she'd already turned on her heel and gone, leaving her office door open. Funny: no Martin, no Arthur. Well, with gale force up to ten, Martin was likely hiding on the flight deck, and Carolyn had probably sent Arthur away for coffee and pastries. Or just away.
Douglas hung up his coat and dawdled over putting his briefcase and newspaper on his desk, then surrendered to the inevitable and went into Carolyn’s office.
“Close the door behind you,” she snapped, not looking up from her laptop. “Sit,” she added as soon as the door had latched. He sat and watched her work for nearly five minutes.
She finally looked at him. “It’s your lucky day, Douglas Richardson. Here.” She flung a manila envelope over to his side of the desk. He picked it up. There were two rectangular objects inside.
“Stop playing guessing games, Douglas, there are epaulettes inside. Congratulations on your promotion, Captain Richardson.”
That was unexpected.
“What, has Martin taken one too many diversions at last?”
“I am not interested in discussing it. Just take your epaulettes and begone.”
“So Martin’s busted down to first officer?”
“No, Douglas, as of this morning we are a one-pilot firm.”
“What? You fired him?”
“Why on earth would I fire someone who works for free? He’s slunk off to God knows where. I found his letter of resignation on my desk this morning. Here it is. Read it if you wish.”
Carolyn grabbed a set of keys from the top of her inbox—they were Martin’s keys, with the ridiculous rabbit’s-foot fob that Douglas had given him for his last birthday—then picked up the top sheet of paper and slapped it down in front of him. It was handwritten on plain paper, with today’s date.
Dear Carolyn,
I regret to inform you that I am resigning from MJN Air, effective immediately.
I wish you, Arthur, and Douglas all the best.
Sincerely,
Martin Crieff
It was certainly Martin’s handwriting, though it was sloppy. And the paper was unfolded, so it seemed he’d written it here. Had it been a spur-of-the-moment decision? That could explain the brevity. But why would Martin leave? And why would he leave with no notice? Without telling them where he was going? Without saying goodbye? Douglas looked up in disbelief. Carolyn had already returned her attention to her laptop and was stabbing at the keyboard.
“But why has he resigned? Has he got another job?”
Carolyn looked up at him, scowling. “Are you still here? I have to tell you, I don’t care why he left. What I care about is the fact that he left my company with no notice, and that I have flights to reschedule. And, since I will likely lose most of those bookings, I also have to find enough short hops to keep paying your salary. Not to mention finding another pilot that I can afford, so that we can, perhaps, continue in business. Now, please, go and be elsewhere while I try to keep all our jobs.”
Douglas stared at the letter, feeling the words jolt through his brain like an electric current. He folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. He left, closing the door behind him.
The common room felt unusually empty. He dropped into his chair and frowned. Martin must have finally gotten a job at another airline. And he didn’t know how to tell them, so he hadn’t said anything. Lord knows Martin still got embarrassed at the most ridiculous things. Though the fact that he’d managed to keep completely silent about getting another job was astounding. He was almost as transparent as Arthur. But really, not even having the decency to wish them goodbye was a bit much.
Anger was beginning to overtake his shock. Martin was always so prissy and self-righteous about doing everything properly, but then he’d left without saying a word to anyone. And he’d thought that Martin and he were friends. At least in a collegial way. Martin should have said something to him if he’d gotten a job with a real airline. It certainly left him in the lurch. And probably unemployed. It was a lousy thing to do. But confronting Martin and making him squirm would go a long way toward paying back the slap in the face of being left without a word. He grabbed his coat and marched out into the March morning, pulling his car keys from his trousers pocket.