‘It’s only a matter of time, you know,’ Johnny said.

Ethan watched the skydiver land almost silently, then looked back at Johnny, who grinned.

‘Life’s too short not to,’ he told Ethan.

Following Johnny’s instructions, Ethan headed for the door. It slid open across a worn carpet with a half-moon scratched into it. The room was basic and a little shabby, Ethan thought as he stepped inside, but it was unbelievably well ordered. A pair of filing cabinets stood against one wall, a well-stocked bookcase against another. A TV was fixed to one wall, streaming Sky News. The other walls were covered with skydiving pictures and photographs rather than wallpaper. Some of them were military: soldiers in places Ethan had only ever seen on posters in the windows of adventure travel shops.

But Ethan only noticed these details later, because in front of him, sitting at a large, organized desk, was one of the most imposing men he had ever seen. His hair was shaved close to his head – slightly longer on top – and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing tattoos. His shoulders were broad, his face hard and stern. Small scars criss-crossed the skin around his left eye; a bigger one extended under his right ear and part way across his throat.

So this must be Sam, thought Ethan. Holy shit.

The man saw him, stood up and reached out with his right hand. Ethan took it and found it was like being held by a vice lined with sandpaper; the skin was rough and calloused, the grip ferociously strong.

‘I’m Ethan Blake,’ said Ethan. ‘I’m here about-’

‘The job?’ said the man. ‘Yes. Sit.’

Ethan sat on the only other chair in the room.

‘CV?’

Ethan handed it over.

‘Experience?’

Ethan remembered what the career adviser at school had said – something about using buzz words, key phrases that employers pick up on, that make you stand out above the rest.

‘I’ve got my food hygiene certificate,’ he said, trying to sound confident. ‘And I’ve worked in a number of high street retailers. Lots of customer-facing work. I was promoted to-’

The man cut in: ‘Why aren’t you working there now?’

Ethan spluttered an answer – something about needing a change, wanting to do something different. It wasn’t the whole truth, just some of it. He didn’t 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 Sam’s freefall centre – about Sam – that made them do it, he wanted some of it for himself.

He spent the next six hours and eight minutes dreaming of falling through the sky.

‘It’s for my birthday,’ said the middle-aged man at the counter. Ethan was taking bookings at the FreeFall reception. It was early in the morning and people were flooding in to head off into the sky. He wished he was one of them.

Ethan had had a busy few days since taking the job and, with the week drawing to a close, was only now beginning to settle into the place, get a feel for how to do things – and for how to not sound like a total tit when anyone asked him what skydiving was all about. He could now tell people what happened, what the training involved, what the equipment was. Even his mum and his sister had been impressed – not just because he had a decent summer job, but because it was something out of the ordinary; something he really enjoyed.

Ethan looked up and saw that the man’s smile refused to let go of his face. There were three other younger men standing behind him. The guy gestured to them. ‘They thought it’d be fun to throw their dad out of a plane for his sixtieth.’

Ethan smiled as the man handed over a voucher for a tandem skydive, then turned back to his family. As Ethan logged the details into the computer, he listened to the guy chatting with his sons and a well-dressed woman – presumably his wife. They were all laughing and joking, as if jumping out of a plane to celebrate a birthday was a normal thing to do.

He typed in the man’s occupation. And paused. ‘You’re a vicar?’