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She reached over and touched him. He fell forward brushing the control yoke.“OH MY GOD! MR JENSEN WHAT’S THE MATTER?” screamed Julie to the unconscious man.She reached with both hands, grabbed him and pulled him back upright. She tried to feel for a pulse but in her fear, she wasn’t sure if he had one or not. She pulled on the shoulder strap to tighten the shoulder harness keeping him upright.“November 34 X-ray, I show you 400 below altitude.”OH my God, what am I going to do? thought Julie, not hearing the radio call. He might die up here.“November 34 X-ray, do you copy? You are 500 below altitude and descending.”“Mr. Jensen, Mr. Jensen, say something!!” cried Julie “PLEASE!”“November 34 X-ray do you copy me, you are 600 off altitude descending and turning.” said the controller with a hint of concern in his otherwise professional voice.“53 Nancy turn to 280 I have a Cessna 210 Centurion descending into your altitude.”Huh? thought Julie“Roger, turning to 280, 53 Nancy” said the other. On top of that she had needed to put in long days in her own Department, trying to stay one step ahead of those that thought she should never have had the job in the first place. And that was without the particularly full post bag of letters from her constituency raising issues of local concern. It was the same for any Cabinet Minister, she thought, but even so, by Friday evening, she felt it was time for a drink.Florence felt the bars that clustered in the streets around the Houses of Parliament were far too close to work, with too many opportunities to bump into people she really didn’t want to have to talk to. Her preferred watering hole – something she didn’t share with any of her team – was across the river in Lambeth Palace Yard. Once the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the red-brick, Tudor buildings had been converted long ago into a shopping mall and leisure precinct. There were restaurants and bars that offered a chance to relax. The other benefit of the location.
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