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Oh god, I thought. I don’t want to do this. I was a professional jumper with thousands of skydives behind me, but as the small plane climbed, everything felt wrong.
My mind kept wandering to my two babies waiting for me at home. April was almost three years old and Ben was only five weeks. I should be with them, not here. The jump had been my husband Emile’s idea, something we could do together, he’d said, which is mainly why I agreed.
In the end he didn’t join me as he couldn’t find anyone to look after the children. Now alone, I crouched by the plane’s exit, strapping my helmet up tightly. Sound engulfed the plane in a roar of engine and wind, and my nerves bubbled. Still, I couldn’t back out now.
