There was another sharp bang followed by a coughing like that of a habitual smoker.  Charlie craned his head round to see that next to his window, rather alarmingly close in fact, a huge propeller was stuttering into life, jerking round in a series of sharp spasms, accompanied by great belches of white smoke that emanated from the engine’s exhausts. Cough, snort, bang, snort, snort, cough; the engine tortured itself into life, slowly replacing the appalling explosions with a purring roar as it quickly found its rhythm.  Charlie was fascinated as the propeller blade tips passed inches away from his head, separated by only a thin sheet of Plexiglas.

The other engine started into life and his father fiddled with two long levers above his head.  “Just gotta balance those two monsters!”  Charlie heard, crackling over his headset.  Both of the big radials settled down and Charlie noticed that the tone changed and seemed to synchronise into one note.

His dad pushed the two levers forward.  The engines roared.  Their pitch changed to a much higher tone and the big seaplane slowly came to life, sliding forward in the water.

“Fua’amotu Control, this is Catalina-sierra-oscar-one-nine departing Fanga’uta heading zero-four-five.  Please advise if any traffic is in the area!”  Charlie’s dad said over the radio.

A clipped Tongan voice replied, authorising take-off, noting that there were no traffic advisories.

Charlie’s dad pushed the levers fully forward.  The engine tone increased again and the plane began to bounce through the modest waves of the lagoon as it picked up speed.  Once again, aircraft vibrations began to chip away at Charlie’s confidence about his continued existence. 

Water sprayed up past the canopy and was sucked into the propellers, jetting out behind the Catalina in two giant rooster tails of white water.  The bouncing and shaking increased to a furious extent, Charlie gripped the armrests of his seat, eyes fixed on the shore ahead as it oscillated above and below the window line.  Surely something this big wasn’t supposed to shake this much?  His teeth shook in his head as the plane bounced through each wave top.

Suddenly, the vibration ceased, the plane tilted sharply up and the streaming water cleared from the canopy in an instant. 

“Rotation complete, Charlie!  We are airborne!  You know it never ceases to amaze me that anything this old thing still flies.  They really did know how to build them back in the day!”  his father said happily.

Charlie felt far from reassured.  He began to wonder what he was doing on the far side of the world, putting his life in the hands of someone who was quite obviously mad.  His fingers unclenched from the armrests of the pilot’s seat and he sat on them to hide the shaking.  Now that he wasn’t being bounced around like a pea inside a tin can, he could feel his pulse racing.  This only increased further when he realised that the Catalina was still flying extremely close to the water.

 “Is everything all right, Dad?”  Charlie asked.

 “What?”  His father said over the headset.

 “Is everything all right?  I mean, we’re not going up?”

 “Oh that!  No, we’re flying in ground effect.  It’s a way of picking up speed quickly.  Don’t worry; we’ll climb in a bit.”

 The plane raced across the lagoon, barely a few metres above the water, like some vast pterosaur from pre-history.  Charlie watched the approaching shoreline grow ever more distinct with a sense of deep unease.  His hands gripped the arm rests again and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened.

 At last his father pulled back on the control yoke and the nose of the big seaplane pulled slowly up.  They climbed above the lagoon slowly and as they did Charlie could see the full extent of Tongatapu.  It was a tiny, vividly green island shaped loosely like an ankle boot.  He realised that the lagoon was huge and cut deep into the island.  To the north of Tongatapu were strings of even smaller islands and atolls set in the pale green waters of their accompanying reefs.   The archipelago seemed so lonely, adrift in its own cosmos of ocean.   It was simply stunning. Charlie’s breath caught in his chest as he looked on, the traumas of his life receding into the background, as the humming drone of the Catalina lulled him.

Climbing up through the clouds, Charlie’s world view was restricted by a blank wall of grey mist.  When the plane emerged into sunlight above the clouds, Charlie was astonished at the sudden flood of bright light into the cockpit.  Towering cathedrals of snowy clouds shone in the sun, dwarfing the Catalina as it flew between them beneath the great blue bowl of the sky. 

 “It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it,” said his father.

Charlie could only nod, captivated by the view as the plane sauntered lazily between the hazy spires.

 The journey to Vava’u did not take as long as Charlie feared.  They chatted quietly over the radio about safe subjects: the Catalina, which team was top of the Premiership, the flight from London, Chester and Daisy.  Charlie managed to avoid mentioning the Aphrodite of the Aisles, or worse, the vision of a dead friend.  He began to even doubt that it had happened.  Dream, vision, or hallucination, it seemed unreal and Charlie even found it hard to remember the details.  All he was left with was a latent feeling of disquiet.

 Barely an hour after take off they plunged back through the clouds in a slow descent.  The sunlight disappeared abruptly and in the gloom of the drizzle beneath the blanket of cloud, Charlie could see ahead of them another tiny island, which his father explained was Vava’u, the second largest island in Tonga’s archipelago, and the location of one of the best natural harbours in the world. 

“Vava’u control, this is this is Catalina-sierra-oscar-one-nine inbound for Lupepau’u International, heading zero-four-five at three thousand, requesting permission to land.”  Charlie’s dad said over the radio.  

The landing was not nearly as awful as the take off.  They flew a few miles to the north of Port of Refuge and its main town of Neiafu.  They lined up for final approach and the Catalina steamed in to land somewhat like an ocean liner, unwieldy and slow.  His father deployed the landing gear with a slightly off beat comment of, “It’s a boat, it’s a plane, it’s got wheels!” and they touched down at an even smaller airport than Fua’amotu.   The big seaplane taxied to the end of the runways then turned off it and headed for a collection of small hangers to the one side of the main buildings. 

Parking brake on, Charlie’s dad cut the power to the engines.  As soon as the engine noise died away it seemed to Charlie that the silence that followed was slightly oppressive.  The constant hum of the engines had so filled his head that he felt drained by its sudden absence.

“Charlie, you look done in. I think it’s way past time that we got you into bed.”  His dad smiled at him. “Let me just secure the plane and we’ll get you home.”

For a moment Charlie thought he meant back home at the flat in East Brockley with his mum but then understood what his father meant.  I suppose this is my life from now on.  I’ve got two homes, one in England and one in a tropical island paradise.  Cool!  He began to warm to the idea of staying a while in Tonga, even if the weather seemed worse than it was back in London.

He unbuckled himself from the seatbelt and followed his father into the back of the Catalina.  He realised what a complex set of compartments the cabin appeared to be, with bulkheads separating different sections, which could be accessed by hatches set high in the bulkhead.  There seemed to be seats everywhere and there was even a set of folding bunks secured alongside one side of the fuselage.  However, he could only look for so long and with the weariness of the trip catching up on him, he shuffled out of the door they had entered originally.  Stifling a yawn he clambered down a crew ladder that folded out from beneath the door and enabled him to get to the tarmac below without breaking his ankle by jumping.

His dad closed the door and put away the ladder.  He asked Charlie to wait for a moment then went around the Catalina clipping lines, which were fastened to the ground, to shackle-points on the aircraft, explaining that in a high wind they would help keep the Cat secure.  After that he then slid some orange tags on parts of the Cat that he removed from his flight case.  “For the pre-flight check,” he said mysteriously and then beckoned for Charlie to follow him.  They picked up Charlie’s bags, which his dad had dropped to the tarmac from the Cat and walked over to one of the hangers, where Charlie was amused to see a semi-derelict, blue Toyota pickup, identical to the one they had left on Tongapatu.

“My Vava’u car,” he explained.  “I like to keep things simple.  I never get confused as to which car is mine depending on which island I’m on.”

“Is it far?”  Charlie said tiredly.  The stresses of his journey had now caught up with him.  He seemed to find it very hard to keep his eyes open.

“No, not far now, Charlie.”

The rest of the trip to his father’s house became increasingly dreamlike.  He remembered getting in his father’s pickup.  He remembered driving through a much lusher environment than that on Tongapatu.  He sort of remembered pulling up at a small, yellow bungalow but after that everything got kind of hazy. Sweet sleep enveloped him like his mother’s arms.

 He heard voices.  They seemed near yet they were indistinct.  He was sure he could hear Trev saying, “Leave him alone, he’s been through enough. I’ll keep watch.” 

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