Bright Angel

by Isabelle Merlin

  I nodded.

  He said, ‘Surely he’ll come to his senses. I mean, you weren’t doing anything wrong. We hadn’t even kissed. Much as I, as I’d have liked to.’

  I shuddered. ‘Please, Mick, don’t talk about it.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said quietly. A strange expression flickered in his eyes. They looked different without the glasses, I thought, vaguely. The brown of them was sharper, deeper, under the thatch of platinum hair, without the interruption of the frames, his eyelashes stubby but dark and thick. His face was stronger, too. More defined. He should wear contact lenses, not glasses, and then he’d really be rather handsome.

  What the hell was I thinking of? Was I going mad? Or turning into one of those sorts of girls who can just jump from one guy to the other without any thought? For God’s sake, what I had with Daniel was special. Unique.It couldn’t be transferred just like that onto someone else.

  Because I was angry with myself, I spoke more sharply than I intended. ‘What happened to your glasses?’

  ‘They got smashed,’ he said, taking them out of his pocket. It was true. There was a crack right across one of the lenses.

  ‘Can you drive without them?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve got some sunglasses in the car. Prescription ones. They’ll do. I’ve got another pair of glasses back at the campground anyway, so I’ll be right.’ He spoke in a toneless sort of manner, and I thought maybe I’d offended him. I didn’t feel good about that. I mean, he’d only ever been nice to me. Just because he seemed to be keen on me and I wasn’t attracted to him in that way was no reason for being horrible.

  I said, ‘I’m sorry, Mick. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that...’

  ‘I understand,’ he said, gently, and touched my shoulder. ‘You’ve had a shock. It’s quite okay. And I, well, I really like you but I understand that you – well, of course you don’t feel the same way. Not with Daniel around. It’s quite all right. I’m not upset. Really, I’m not.’ He smiled, faintly. ‘I just want to help you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, rather choked up by his kindness.

  ‘We still friends then?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. Okay, what do you want to do?’

  ‘Can we go back? I mean, not to Daniel’s. Not yet. But I just want to go home. If that’s okay.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ He switched on his phone. ‘I’ll just see if there’s a quicker way to go back to the car from here without all the bush-bashing. Ah, yep, if we go down that path on the other side of the clearing and turn left at this point here–’ tapping on the screen – ‘we should be able to join up again with that other path that will lead us back to the car park.’ He looked at me. ‘You all right?’

  I nodded. I didn’t really feel ‘all right’ – how could I? – but I’d got over the worst of the pain. And I kept thinking, he just needs a bit of time. Just a bit. Given time to think, Daniel would cool down and I could explain and things would go back to what they’d been and everything would be fine.

  I hung on to that hope all the way back to the car and all the way back to St-Bertrand. We didn’t see Daniel on the way. He must have long gone. Mick didn’t speak along the way, for which I was very grateful, because I needed silence. But when we got back to the town and parked in the usual spot, he turned around to look at me and said, gently, ‘Sylvie, remember I’m there for you if you need me. Don’t hesitate to call me, okay?’ He pulled out a notebook from the glovebox and scribbled his number on it. ‘Don’t hesitate. Any time of the day or night, okay?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You’re, you’re so kind, Mick.’

  ‘Kind?’ he said. ‘No. I’m not kind. I just, well, we’re friends. That means something to me.’

  ‘And to me,’ I said in a rush, touching his hand, briefly. ‘Thanks again, Mick. And sorry about that performance in the forest. It must have been very embarrassing.’

  ‘It’s cool,’ he said, with a little laugh, ‘don’t worry about it.’ He hesitated. ‘Look, Sylvie, I hope you clear it up with Daniel – but there’s something I think you should know. Although maybe it’s not the right time and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression and–’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, warily.

  ‘Look, I wondered if you knew about Daniel’s uncle, Benedict Udo?’

  I stared. ‘What do you mean? How do you know about him?’

  ‘I Googled him,’ he said. ‘Yesterday afternoon. I mean, I looked up Daniel. After we – we ran into each other, on the road. I – just wanted to know who that guy was. Because–’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, hurriedly, not wanting him to explain further, ‘and what did you find out?’

  ‘That he’s the nephew of a guy about whom there are all sorts of rumours floating around.’

  My palms prickled. ‘What rumours?’

  ‘Ben Udo is rumoured to have links with organised crime in London,’ he said quickly, giving me a sideways glance.

  My pulse raced. I thought of what Marc had told us, of how Ben Udo had been attacked – and of how evasive Marc had been when I’d asked him why. I thought of how evasive Daniel himself had been, when I asked him about his uncle. How he wanted to get Gabriel away from there, to look after him himself. Now, staring at Mick, who looked as though he expected me to explode, I thought that here was an explanation. Here was something that fitted. I said, through the thickness in my throat, ‘Only rumoured?’

  ‘Nobody’s proved anything against him. He’s far too clever. A real fox. In fact, funnily enough, that’s what his company’s called. Fox Financial. Anyway, it’s all just rumours. There’s nothing definite, see? I mean they didn’t say hewas a known criminal – just had him vaguely associating with people who were really quite dodgy.’

  ‘That could mean anything,’ I said. ‘He could just know them innocently – I mean, criminals are just people, so they’d have friends and relations and acquaintances just like everyone else.’

  ‘Didn’t sound like that,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But Udo’s rich and successful. I expect he has teams of lawyers to come down like a ton of bricks on anyone that would come out and say it for sure. Look, Sylvie, I’m only telling you so you can have a bit of background info. Then you can understand why Daniel might be highly strung – if he knows his uncle’s a crook, or if he’s scared of him, or trying to protect his little brother from it, he could be, like–’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I see what you mean. Thanks.’

  ‘It’s gotta be hard, having to hang around people like that,’ said Mick.

  ‘Yep.’ My thoughts were racing. I said, ‘I wonder if the film people know? I mean, he’s bankrolling their film. If it’s crooked money...?’

  ‘I don’t expect they asked any questions. People are good at closing their eyes when it comes to money. And it’s not like Udo’s ever had anything proven against him. He hasn’t even ever been charged, as far as I know.’

  I nodded. Suddenly I just wanted to get far away from him. I mean, why had he told me? It could only be to turn me against Daniel. Well, it wouldn’t work. I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could, ‘Look, Mick, sorry, but I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, smiling a little sadly. ‘I’m sorry to have raised it, but I thought you should know.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I said.

  ‘And look, Sylvie, just cut him some slack. Give him some time. The guy’s obviously had a hard time.’

  I looked at him. And he seemed genuine. I said, uncertainly, ‘Er, thanks, Mick. I’m sorry for – you know. You’ve been so nice.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. Take care. And look, give us a call if you have a problem. Okay?’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, smiling at him for the first time since that awful moment in the clearing.

  ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Hey, by the way, I looked you up too, yesterday. Saw your You Tube channel. It’s great. Liked that Houdini one especially. He’s one of my heroes. The clip was really well done. Li
ke you got all the info in but it was entertaining too. The others were pretty good too.’

  ‘Oh, glad you liked them,’ I said, blushing.

  ‘Maybe one day you might think of doing one about investigating UAPs,’ he said. ‘I can give you heaps of info.’

  ‘Yep. Maybe one day. See you, Mick.’

  ‘See you soon, then, darlin’,’ he said flippantly. I ignored that last bit, and hurried up the hill towards our house.

  Claire was out and I could hear Freddy banging away on the computer downstairs. I didn’t interrupt her. I wasn’t eager to talk about what had happened, so I crept upstairs as quietly as I could.

  Mick was right. I had to give Daniel time, I thought. But how much time? How long had it been since that moment in the clearing?

  Upstairs in my room, I soon found my mobile, sitting on the bedside table, half hidden under a book. That was a bit weird. I was sure I hadn’t seen it earlier. But maybe I hadn’t really looked. Oh well, it didn’t matter. I picked it up and went to Contacts. I went to Daniel’s number, which I’d entered yesterday. I sat there on the bed looking at it, looking at his name. Even the letters themselves made me feel shivery with longing. I had to speak to him. I had to clear it up. I couldn’t bear it. I went to Options. First on the list was Call. My finger hesitated over it. I stared at it, trying to steel myself, trying to get my thoughts into some sort of order. What should I say first: Sorry? Or I love you? But I had done nothing to be sorry for. Only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, saying that would mean admitting I had done something wrong. No, best just say I love you. But if I said that he might think I was just being arrogant or stupid. Refusing to admit anything had happened, even if it was an accident, just one of those things.

  I jumped. Was that the sound of a siren? I went to the window and looked out. But my room faced onto the view of meadows and cows so I could only see them, peacefully grazing. The siren was louder now. Was that another one? Suddenly struck by a fear I couldn’t even name, still clutching my mobile, I ran out of my room to Claire’s, from where you could see the road, and the car park. And, racing up the road towards the town, was an ambulance, followed by two police cars, their lights flashing, their sirens going.

  They didn’t stop at the car park but turned and went carefully up one of the cobbled alleyways towards the town. I hadn’t seen any vehicle except the food delivery van go up them – they were so narrow there was room for only one car in them and even then ... I didn’t stop to think about it, but ran downstairs and banged out of the house and into the garden. Terror clutched my heart – horror – my head spun, I had a ghastly feeling that I knew where they were going, that Daniel, maddened by what he’d seen, had had an accident, had been knocked off his bike or run over by a car – and that he was...

  I ran to the end of the wall where I could see down into their garden but I couldn’t see the front of the house where the cars would be. So I just hopped on top of the wall and jumped down into the garden and ran round the side – and there I saw the ambulance, and the police cars drawn up, the ambulance doors wide open, and then the paramedics came out of the house, carrying a still body, covered with a sheet, on a stretcher between them – and I knew my worst fears had come true. Something terrible had happened.

  Warrior angel

  I ran towards the paramedics, stumbling and crying out Daniel’s name. But before I reached them, the door opened and Daniel came out, flanked by what I assumed were two plains-clothes policemen. I stopped, dead. He saw me. For an instant, our eyes met. I couldn’t move, or speak. His face was like a mask, his eyes like two black holes. I could not read their expression – fear or anger or horror or suffering, I could not tell. The image of the stone mask on the church wall suddenly came into my mind, and I could not help taking a step back. He turned away and went with the policemen into their car. They started up the engine.

  And then I found my limbs again. My voice. I ran forward, shouting, ‘Daniel! What’s happening? What’s wrong?’ But I didn’t get to the car in time. And as I passed the ambulance I saw the head of the person on the stretcher, just as they lifted it into the vehicle. It was Pilar, Gabriel’s nanny. There was blood smeared across her forehead, her eyes were closed, her skin grey. She wasn’t moving. I could not see her breathing. There was an oxygen mask on her and all that but she looked ... she looked dead.

  My legs nearly gave way then. As the police car with Daniel accelerated away, and the ambulance men shut the doors and also sped away, all I could think of was, surely, no, please God, don’t let it be Daniel. Don’t let it be him who did this. Don’t let it be ... And then, my God, where was Gabriel? What had happened to Gabriel? He’ll be so frightened.

  I ran up to the front door. A burly uniformed policeman stood there. He said, ‘No, mademoiselle. No-one is to enter.’

  ‘I am friend,’ I said, my French coming out bad and jerky in my agitation. ‘Friend of family. Gabriel, the little boy.’

  ‘You cannot come in, mademoiselle,’ he repeated.

  ‘Please? Gabriel must be scared. Please let me...’

  ‘Go, please, mademoiselle,’ he said, without a change of expression. ‘A crime has been committed. Nobody can go in.’

  I tried to ask him what had happened, but he wouldn’t say, of course. He just glared at me and told me to go away. I had to leave, though I was shaking like jelly and felt so sick I thought I would throw up.

  There were all sorts of people gathered around now, of course, and they stared curiously at me as I tottered away from the house and up the road, but I took no notice of them. I went blindly on, not noticing where I was going. I couldn’t even think. Not even feel. I felt like I was sleepwalking, like nothing around me was real.

  I found myself in the square in front of the cathedral. Still putting one foot in front of the other, numbly, not thinking, I went up the steps. I pushed open the door and went inside, blindly seeking the cathedral’s warm, peaceful semi-darkness, for the light hurt my eyes and made them sting. I sank into a seat at the back of the cathedral, half-sitting, half-kneeling, my head in my hands, my heart beating not fast but so slowly and heavily it was like a dead weight inside me, dragging me down. My mind was full of images I could neither shake off nor make sense of. But I couldn’t even weep. I couldn’t pray. Not properly. I could do nothing except for just sitting like that, shaking, my heart seemingly turned to stone inside me.

  There were other people in the cathedral, tourists mostly, but a few others praying. Nobody looked at me, or seemed to find it strange I was here. That was what a church was like, after all, I thought, faintly. It’s a haven. A refuge. You don’t have to explain why you’re here or why you’ve got your head in your hands.

  An image suddenly came into my head, of Daniel with his head in his hands, back at St-Just. That’s how he’d been sitting, when he came around the corner. He’d said it was to do with thinking about going away – or at least that’s what I’d suggested, and he’d not denied it. But now I wondered if it was not that, but something else – something else wrong in his life. Something badly wrong that might make him attack Pilar and–

  A dark fear washed over me. Pilar had been attacked. His uncle had been attacked. What if both times it had been Daniel? But no, that was monstrous. Hideous. How could I think such a thing? But Daniel doesn’t like his uncle, said a small voice inside. His crooked uncle. He’s been worried about Gabriel. Maybe he found out Pilar was also a crook or something like that. Or maybe he just had a bad temper and he was even worse because he saw me and Mick and–

  I groaned. I put my head deeper in my hands and tried to pray. Please, God, let it be all right. Please God, don’t let Daniel be ... don’t let it be his fault. Please God, look after him. And Gabriel. Poor little Gabriel, who must be so frightened by what was going on. Please God, let there really be a guardian angel with him. Make his Kyriel look after him. Cover him with her wings. Make him safe. And Daniel, too.

  All at once, my hear
t clenched. But not with fear. You have a bright angel,Gabriel had said to me, that first day here in the cathedral. A bright angel and it seemed to me, suddenly, that I could feel her there – feel a presence, close by me, close by my shoulder.

  I turned my head, half-expecting to see her standing there, dazzling in the darkness. See her wings, streaming from her shoulders. See her gentle smile as she looked at me. But of course I saw nothing. Except for the light streaming in coloured patterns through the stained-glass windows, and that sense of a living, breathing presence. I clenched my fists. What good was that to me – to us? What good was a smiling, gentle guardian angel anyway? What I needed was a warrior angel – a real helper – not a Kyriel – but a Michael.

  A Michael.There was a buzzing in my ears. Heat in my throat. It was a sign, I thought. I got to my feet, unsteadily. Without taking much notice of where I was going, I walked out of the cathedral, through a side door, finding myself not in the square but in a kind of small courtyard. I took out my mobile from my pocket, and the piece of paper on which Mick had written his number. I hesitated. Should I try Daniel first? But even if he had his mobile with him, and was allowed to take calls despite being under arrest – what would I say to him? The words would dry up in my throat.

  So I took a deep breath, and dialled Mick’s number. He answered almost immediately. He said, ‘Sylvie. I was hoping it was you. What’s up?’

  ‘It’s ... it’s Daniel,’ I said, and then my throat did dry up, and I could only stammer out a word or two about the ambulance and the police cars – nothing coherent or helpful at all.

  Mick said, ‘Where are you? Don’t move, I’m still in town, I’ll come straightaway,’ and then he rang off and I felt suddenly so much better, though just for an instant, because then the terrible images raced into my head again and I thought I’d be sick.

  He must have been less than five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. A few people came into the courtyard and stared a bit at me but to my relief they said nothing, instead either going to the loos, which were in one corner, or continuing on through another door into a room that led on to the cloisters, which are much bigger courtyard gardens set around with carved pillars, where the monks and priests and so on used to walk. I’d seen a sign for the cloisters before, and Freddy had told Claire and me that they were worth visiting too. But you had to pay money to visit, and so I hadn’t bothered that first day.