The Direct Flight

For eleven years, Phuket was too far for anyone to visit. Then it wasn't.

At 7:15 in the morning Gary's phone buzzes fourteen times on the balcony table in Rawai, which has never happened before at 7:15 in the morning, because at home it's 1:15 and the lads are asleep.

They are not asleep. Someone has posted a link in the group chat. The group is called *Romford Old Boys* and has been mostly quiet since the Euros. The link is a news story: a new direct flight, London to Phuket, starting October 18.

Then the replies.

*Gary's villa lads?? 🏝* *Mate it's DIRECT now no excuses* *I'll bring the golf clubs*

Gary puts the phone face down and looks at the sea for a while, the way men do when they're working out what they've said over the years.

For eleven years the whole arrangement has rested on one fact: Phuket is two flights away, and nobody from home ever visits. He has said this at every Christmas video call, with feeling. It's a shame. It's such a long way. You'd love it, honestly, if it wasn't so far.

Inside the distance, a few things have grown.

At home they think he runs "a bit of property out here." In Rawai he tells people he's "retired from consulting." At home the condo has become "the villa," because one Christmas he filmed the rooftop pool from a low angle and nobody asked follow-up questions. The rooftop pool has a sign that says RESIDENTS ONLY · NO GLASS · CLOSED 8 PM. He has never filmed the sign.

Joy comes out with her coffee, already dressed for work. She manages the bookings at a dive shop in Chalong and has to be there by eight. They've been together a year and three months.

"Good news?" she asks, nodding at the phone.

"Just the lads," he says. "Nobody's actually coming. It's still a twelve-hour flight."

"Thirteen," she says. "Direct."

He looks at her. She sips her coffee.

The phone buzzes again. This time it's not the group, it's Karen, his sister.

*DIRECT NOW!!! 🙌 Feb half term?? The kids would LOVE the villa x*

He types for a long time and sends: *February's monsoon, not ideal x*

Joy is reading over his shoulder, because they're on a balcony a metre and a half wide. "February is the best month," she says. "No rain. Calm sea. Everybody comes in February."

"Karen doesn't know that."

"Mm," says Joy.

A year ago Joy asked if she could say hello to his family on the Christmas call. He said they were funny about video. She didn't ask again. She doesn't ask a lot of things twice. She remembers the answer instead.

Gary spends the day being busy. He looks up "villa rental Rawai one week February" and closes the tab when he sees what a villa costs in February. He works out that Steve, his ex-wife's brother, could be on the first flight if he wanted. He considers, briefly and seriously, telling everyone he's moving to Chiang Mai.

At the bar on the corner, a man from Leeds tells him the direct flight is the end of Phuket as they know it. Gary agrees with more feeling than the man expected.

When he gets home at seven, Joy is on the sofa with her phone.

"I booked a table," she says. "February. Seafood place on the beach road, the one with the plastic chairs. Six people."

"Six?"

"Karen, Mike, the two kids, you, me."

He sits down.

"How do you know Karen's coming?"

"She told me." Joy turns her phone around. It's a chat with Karen, in English, with a lot of emojis. The first message is from March. "She added me on Facebook when you posted the photo from my birthday. We talk sometimes."

He scrolls up. There are a lot of messages. There's a photo of the kids at a school play. There's one of Joy at the dive shop. There's a link to the London flight, sent by Karen at 6:40 that morning, before anyone in Romford had posted it to the group.

*Booking it!!! Don't tell him yet x*

"She said the kids want to see the villa," Joy says.

Gary closes his eyes. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her it's a condo with a pool on the roof."

"And?"

"She said she knows. She's known since your first Christmas video." Joy takes the phone back. "You can see the sign."

---

Poll: Your mates can now fly direct. Good news, or a threat?

*Illustrations are AI-generated.*