“Oh, she’ll do it alright. I heard her talking to Mr Jeremy about it on the telephone the other day. She reckons that the instructor is a right bossy devil ‘n’ all.” He barked out a laugh. “That’s the pot callin’ the kettle black, and no mistake!”
Maude laughed. “Yess’m, I reckon you’re right there ‘n’ all. Well, good luck to her, if she do manage to do it. She’s got my money, there’s no way you’d get me up there to try it, she always were a feisty young thing, were Crystal.”
“I reckon she be takin’ extra lessons you know. Old Bill in the machine shop, he reckons that his sister-in-law did a charity jump and they did it all on the same weekend. They had a learnin’ session one day and then they jumped the next, so he tells it, you know? Madam here, she’s been up and down to that airfield several times already, and she’s got that practise jump before the actual charity day, so it’s a while yet before you have to part with your money.”
“Well, we’ll see, we’ll see,” Maude answered, as she put her sewing aside. “Did you see that card, over there on the mantelpiece?” she asked.
“Could hardly miss it love, it’s a bit grand, don’t you think?”
“Mmm, very stylish, Bernard, that’s what it is. Proper vellum paper that is, don’t you know?” Maude answered.
“Oh ahh, that it is, alright. It’ll all go the same way though, once that puppy do get ‘is teeth on it,” he teased.
Maude righted the card on the shelf, just to make sure that it was well out of Marmaduke’s way before she answered, “I’ll go to the stationers in town on market day and get a nice reply card, a proper acceptance card mind you, nothing tacky, so long as you’ve got the night off. You’re not working are you Bernard?”
“No, no love. Mr Jeremy came over to me on reception, the last time he was over from the States, and told me, special like, that they would get an outside security company in for the night of the wedding, so that all of the staff was free to come to the ‘do’. So we’ll be goin’ love, don’t you worry about that. It’s all taken care of it is. An’ it’s goin’ to be some party, that it is.”
Maude tucked a stray, iron grey curl behind a neat well-shaped ear and patted down her pinny. “I might get myself a new dress an’ all,” she decided. “You don’t want to be seen out with a scruffy old lady now, do you?” she asked, fishing for compliments.
Bernard chuckled, well used to his wife’s wily ways. “That’s a grand idea love, treat yourself, why don’t you? It’s a while since we’ve had the chance to go out to a ‘proper’ do.” He patted his tummy, “now then, where’s my tea?” he asked.
“On its way love, on its way,” Maude answered, pleased. Then, “is that window finished? It’s taking you long enough to line up a few weights. Come away from that window and stop gawping at the neighbours, whatever will everyone think? What with you bein’ so nosey and all,” she fussed.
Bernard laughed and complied: “Ah, I reckon’ I seen all I need to see for the moment,” he said, as he lumbered over to the sofa and sat his bulk down, waiting for Maude to provide tea and cakes; he’d done enough for the moment.
Over at the house on the green, Maisie had been surprised really. She’d not expected to find something like that, on Mr Giles’ washstand. It wasn’t polite; it wasn’t, not to leave such personal items where the ‘daily’ might come across them. A gentleman would take care of such things himself, he’d keep things like that in his wallet, or under the plant pot in the garden shed. That was where her Gordon had always kept them, anyhow, for the sake of propriety ‘n’ all.
But no, there it was, large as life, sitting there right on the top of the pile of loose change and the sweet wrappers and chewing gum. Where was she supposed to put it then? That’s what she wanted to know. Missus Imogen had not covered such eventualities in her very long list of ‘dos and don’ts’ which she’d presented her with on her first day in the job. She’d been told to put the sweet wrappers in the pedal bin in the bathroom and the coins into the piggy bank on the window sill, but those instructions didn’t quite cover it, not that she could see, anyhow. She flapped the end of the duster at it and it slid off the top of the pile and rolled under the radiator, well it could stay there now, it could, she decided. It wasn’t her job to deal with it, someone else could take care of that.
You got to see all sights in other people’s houses, that was for certain. Her Gordon always said that she had an ‘eye on the world’ in her job, and she had to agree. It was odd though, now that she thought about it, young missus Imogen had been going all around the village, talking about her expensive fertility treatment, at that posh London clinic, for weeks now. And then her husband kept things like that in his pocket, along with his loose change.
Young people had such strange ways about them, but then he did work in London, so that was probably where the weird ideas came from, she decided, as she put the sweet wrappers into the bin, just a she’d been told.
Jonno was writing up the last of his notes and checking through the stats in the tea room when Jazz strolled in through the door. “Hello, can I help you?” he called out, as the tall, dark haired guy stood in the centre of the room and looked slowly around.
Jazz glanced over to the corner of the room, taking in the shabby faded Formica tables, mismatched plastic chairs and grease spattered menu cards propped up on the tabletops between the ketchup bottles and the vinegar. The whole place was deserted apart from the one flying instructor type, sitting alone, trying to bring order to a mountain of paperwork. “Hi,” he replied, “I’m looking for the charity parachute jumping course, have I missed them?” he asked.
Jonno swigged the last of his tea from his mug. He wondered who the guy was, expensive jeans, authoritative air, nice enough demeanour, but there was something vaguely familiar about the face, he was usually very good at remembering people, he wondered if they’d met before. Some of the people on the course were jumping for the third and fourth times, but he didn’t think this bloke was associated with any of them. He had a commanding air about him, used to giving the orders, by the looks of him. “Yes, I’m afraid you’re too late, we finished early, about half an hour ago. They’ve all de-camped off down to the pub, if you’re interested, the Rose and Crown on Hill Road is the usual haunt. Do you know the area?”
Jazz frowned. “No, can’t say that I do. Did they all go to the pub?”
“Almost all, one had a bit of a moment with her clothes,” Jonno replied with a smile in his voice, “and rushed off home to change.” An image of Crystal’s bright pink underwear flashed across his brain, much as he tried to ignore it. “Who were you looking for?”
“Crystal,” Jazz replied shortly.
“Ah.” That figured. Just as well he hadn’t mentioned the clothes mishap, Jonno thought, he wasn’t sure this guy would take kindly to his girl-friend cavorting around in her underwear. He wondered where the attraction was, Crystal reminded him of a colourful exotic butterfly and this guy was the complete antithesis of that; dark, very male, power-hungry even, they’d make a strange couple. Jonno took his time formulating his response. “Sorry, you’ve missed her,” he answered, his voice conveying a friendly but cool finality.
Jazz frowned, he didn’t miss much. “She left early too? Or she was the one with the clothes moment?” he asked. From the look on this guy’s face she’d done something stupid again, or she’d turned up half-dressed. Most likely the latter he thought. Imogen had a real problem with the clothes Crystal wore, but he knew that her style was an intrinsic part of the woman he loved, as essential as her smile and he wasn’t threatened by the impact she made on others, but it did make it awkward when men misconstrued her attention and went ga-ga over her. It looked like she’d made another conquest here, unless he’d misread the signals.
“Both. I’ll leave it to the lady to explain, I’m not sure she would want me passing on too much information,” Jonno hedged, feeling awkward. “She’s not due back at the airfield for a couple of weeks now, till the practise jum
p, but I can pass on a message on for you, the next time I see her if you like?” he asked formally, he was still on duty until he’d completed the last form and filed everything away.
“No, I’ll catch her at home thanks,” Jazz added, walking over to stand beside the table. He stuck out his hand. “Jazz Silver, Crystal’s other half. I have a feeling I’m in the dog-house now that I’ve missed her training session,” he quipped, smiling.
The mega-watt smile instantly turned darkness into light, Jonno registered, as Jazz switched from dour executive to personable and friendly regular-guy, right before his eyes. He’d like this chap if he met up with him in normal circumstances, he thought. Now that he’d introduced himself, it placed Crystal off-limits and that wasn’t such a bad idea, he realised, as he proffered his own hand in response. “Nice to meet you,” he answered sincerely. “Jonno, I’m the poor unfortunate sod who’s trying to teach this lot to jump,” he quipped. “Do you have any interest in flying yourself?” he asked.
“Not as a pilot, no, but launching myself out of a plane at twenty thousand feet? Yeah, I tried it once or twice in my youth, but I can’t say it changed my life forever. It was a good experience, it helps to think outside of the box and all that, and it was cathartic in facing up to my own personal demons, but I can’t say I’ll take it up as a regular occurrence,” Jazz laughed.
“Yeah, it gets some people like that,” Jonno agreed. “I’m one of the few who is addicted to the adrenaline rush and the pure exhilaration of free-falling through the air. Can’t think of a better way to make a living myself.”
“Each to their own,” Jazz acknowledged. “Right, I’d better get off and find Crystal I suppose. Nice to meet you, Jonno, I’m planning on being around for that practise jump at Easter, but I’ll leave it to you to keep Crystal safe until then. See you later.” He added, as he headed on back out of the door.
Jonno watched Jazz depart. He’d guessed that Crystal had a regular boy-friend or a partner, or something, but he’d not really expected to meet the guy, face-to-face. He seemed a decent sort, nowhere near as stuffy as his initial impression seemed to suggest. He still couldn’t imagine them as a couple, but it wasn’t any of his business who she dated. A few more weeks and she’d be out of his hair completely; he wouldn’t be recommending that Crystal take the sport up as a regular hobby or pass-time, she didn’t have any natural ability at all.
His tea was cold now, but he drank the dregs anyway as he returned to his form-filling and statistics. There was far too much regulation these days, it took some of the pleasure out of the sport for him, but it was a necessary evil all the same.
Verity lay back on the bed in the suite and relaxed, enjoying the unaccustomed luxury of her surroundings, she had an hour or so before she needed to get ready. Jazz had thoughtfully paid for the room until the evening, so there was plenty of time.
She grinned, she’d lay bets that he had no idea how she’d be spending her time here in the hotel until then. She re-arranged the pillows behind her head and closed her eyes, imagining her lover’s warm smile and soft brown eyes, smiling into her own.
She felt guilty about it, very guilty, but not quite guilty enough to call a halt to the affair; it was too late now anyhow.
She wondered about her sister, her half-sister actually, Jazz had been very protective of her, how would she take the news, she wondered. It was all up to Jazz now anyhow, she’d left the decision in his court. He may be as furious as a fist full of hornets, but she trusted his integrity implicitly, he’d do the right thing, he’d help her to sort this thing out. This situation was hardly her own creation, she’d just muddied the waters a bit and blurred the edges, the root of the problem was down to others, she wasn’t responsible for other people’s behaviour and she didn’t regret her own actions either; she just wasn’t made that way.
She’d finally found her soul-mate and she wasn’t giving him up without a fight.
She looked dispassionately at her nails and wondered if there was time to get some pretty new extensions applied, there was a nail bar downstairs in the foyer and they might just be able to fit her in before the facial that she’d booked for later in the afternoon. She was well aware that she’d been neglecting her appearance these past few weeks and she wanted to make sure that she was looking her best for the evening ahead.
Men appreciated girls who were well groomed and nicely turned out and in her condition she had no intention of allowing her standards to slip. Every inch of her body would be polished, primed and pampered, before he arrived tonight. She wanted to subtly underline the fact that he’d chosen to take her into his bed and give him a little reminder of why he should keep her there too.
A mere four hours later Verity was draped seductively under the cream satin counterpane, delicately perfumed and subtly feigning sleep. As she heard the tumbler on the lock of the door flip over she allowed herself to open her eyes sleepily, peering out as if in confusion. “Hi you,” she mumbled huskily as he surreptitiously let himself into the room. “You managed to sneak out then?” she asked, stretching languorously as she shrugged off the vestiges of an erotic and simultaneously naughty day-dream. Her hormones had been wreaking havoc with her libido for the past few weeks, possibly due to her pregnancy, but her lover would not be disappointed tonight.
“Now that you’re here,” she invited encouragingly, pulling back the duvet to reveal her nakedness beneath.
He didn’t need any other invitation, it had been far too long since their last stolen encounter, he had no doubt that their liaison was seriously out of bounds, but if he was going to have to pay for it he may as well enjoy himself, he reasoned as he rapidly shucked off his clothes.
Chapter
8
TRUTH OR DARE
Crystal picked at the corner of one frayed beer mat and indolently watched Olivia as she struggled to balance one small dish, a plate of food, two empty glasses and a large bottle of champagne on a flimsy metal tray. She supposed that she should go and help her really, but she just couldn’t be bothered. Lolly was such an idiot at times; that tray was far too dainty to support the weight of the bottle, let alone anything else.
Crystal watched Reg pouring something that looked suspiciously like ‘Dubonnet’ into a glass at the bar. She only knew one person in the whole wide-world who drank ‘Dubonnet’, she mused, and since Imogen wouldn’t be seen ‘dead’ in the ‘Dog and Duck’, that must make two people who like it then, she supposed. She nudged a bit sideways in her seat to see if she could see who he handed the drink to, but the darts team in the bar were blocking her view.
She went back to charting her cousin’s progress with the highly unsuitable tray. After a couple of false starts, Olivia finally managed to negotiate her way past the cluster of regulars who were much too busy propping up the bar to consider helping her and tottered over to plonk herself down beside Crystal on the luridly patterned draylon-covered bench seat. She landed in an undignified heap, showing a rare lack of grace and then promptly misjudged the distance between the tray and table-top causing the full bottle of champagne to teeter and tilt ominously. Crystal grasped the neck of the bottle as it slipped sideways and righted it without comment.
“So, what are we celebrating then?” she asked without further ado.
Lolly raised an eyebrow and flashed a secretive look sideways from beneath part-closed lashes. “Clandestine liaisons,” she murmured cryptically as she poured the champagne into the two flutes, the neck of the bottle rattling against the glassware as her hand betrayed a flickering tremor.
Crystal nibbled at her lower lip but didn’t comment. Ever since her cousin had played the lead in the local Am Dram Society production of West Side Story, she’d been given to ‘over-the-top’ bouts of theatrical display.
Lolly handed her a glass. “To Phil,” she gushed, in a voice that emerged stucco-like and desperate despite her best attempts to conceal the underlying quaver.
Crystal’s eyes narrowed and her stomach flipped
as she encompassed Olivia’s shaking hand and economical movements, she seemed unusually tense today.
“So long, farewell, adieu,” Lolly breathed huskily and then spoiled the whole effect by noisily gulping a great lungful of air. She’d resolved to appear calm and unruffled when she delivered coup de grace, despite the turmoil roiling in her belly, but she wasn’t quite sure that she could pull the whole thing off now.
Crystal repeated the toast and raised the glass to her lips, giving her cousin the benefit of her most quizzical stare.
As the cool, honeyed liquid fizzed over her palette and swirled past her tongue, Lolly managed to cast Crystal an appraising glance and added, “Alternatively, we could just toast ‘bonjour, bonk-ette, cuisine,’ Crystal?” The words emerged in a rapid, flurry of anticipation as Lolly tried and failed to pull off a cosmopolitan air of casual insouciance.
Regardless of the timing of the delivery, the barb hit its mark, Crystal spluttered into her glass and sprayed champagne everywhere. Apart from the very dreadful attempt at a French accent and the quite dodgy translation, Olivia’s implication was transparently clear.
“Not so dim now, eh?” Lolly commented, as Crystal placed the glass back on the table and prepared to speak. Then, “Oh don’t worry Crystal. Your dirty little secret is safe with me,” she dismissed readily enough. The words were spoken lightly, and her tone lacked malice, but there was just a trace of regret or perhaps a tiny sliver of jealousy evident in her attitude.
Crystal quickly regained her composure, Lolly was fishing, that much was clear. If she had been sure of her facts she’d not have bothered with this elaborate ruse, she’d have just come straight out and accuse her of sleeping with her boyfriend, it wasn’t the first time she’d harboured such thoughts, after all. “What are you getting at Lolly, not that same old insecurity thing again, surely?” she counter-attacked boldly.
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