And slamming down her coffee mug, Sylvia gave Billie a swift hug and then stomped out of the office.
Strange, Billie thought, the sort of hold a few hundred feet of breeze blocks can have on a girl. She’d fight tooth and nail to keep hers too, of course – but at the cost of three months cruising the Caribbean? It would be a pretty tough choice. And now she’d aided and abetted a pensioner not only to leave her husband, abandon said Caribbean jolly, and chuck away a retirement no doubt nicely cushioned by endowments, but also to take up squatting in a sub-zero concrete shed. Nice one.
Knowing that she’d never sleep through the guilt, Billie gave up all ideas of going home, refilled the kettle, and found Radio Four. The double doors’ drum roll interrupted her adding anything further to ‘Custs Prospect’.
‘Thank God for that,’ she muttered to herself, skirting the plane again and heading for the doors. ‘Sylv’s seen sense. Probably pretty scary in there on her own. Especially with that plastic parrot and –’ She pulled the doors open. ‘Look, we’ll talk about it properly tomorrow, OK? There’s got to be some way round it. You go home and get a good night’s sleep –’
‘I’d love to,’ Jonah Sullivan said wearily. ‘Believe me I can’t think of anything I’d like better. But insomnia rules at the moment.’
‘I – er – thought you were Sylvia.’ Billie stood back as he walked in. ‘I – um – thought you had a key.’
She stopped and looked at him. Richard Gere at the end of An Officer and a Gentleman wasn’t in it! Old-fashioned it might be, but there was definitely something about a man in uniform . . .
‘Sylvia?’
‘The lady next door. With the holiday brochures.’
Jonah nodded. ‘Ah, yes. I saw her light on too. Quite a little hive of industry.’
Well no, Billie thought. Just me and Sylvia. Both running away.
Jonah abruptly snatched off the peaked cap as if he’d just remembered he was wearing it. He looked completely exhausted. ‘I wasn’t planning on doing anything with the Stearman, to be honest. I’ve just got in from Manchester and I’d intended to go straight home. Then I thought that there was absolutely nothing to go home for and that the thing that means most to me is here, so–’
He stopped, and shrugged, looking as if he’d said far too much. Billie, who didn’t think he’d said half enough, was a bit miffed. Surely, if he’d just got back from flying the Sullivanair thing to Manchester he’d be absolutely bursting to get home to Estelle’s pneumatic charms, wouldn’t he? Or maybe they’d had a falling-out too.
‘If you want to work, it’s fine by me.’ She headed back towards the office. ‘I’m just about finished. I was – er – going home anyway.’
Jonah followed her. ‘Is that coffee?’
‘It’s only instant. And we’ve run out of milk.’
‘Black would suit my current mood nicely.’
She made two mugsful. Jonah clutched his and perched on the edge of the desk, removed the navy jacket with the gold flashes and loosened the striped tie. Billie, trying not stare, fiddled with a few more pages of ‘Custs Prospect’. Jonah seemed too preoccupied or exhausted to talk, and she simply didn’t know what to say.
‘You should switch those round,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’
‘Sorry. I was being nosy. Reading the “What I Can Affords” upside down. You should try to afford the van first and then think about getting the modem second.’
She leaned back in her chair. ‘Should I?’
He nodded. ‘It’s always a bonus to be able to offer to collect goods. You could make an extra charge for it, of course, but most people are far too lazy to try and hire something of their own or strap things to root racks and drive out here. Apart from that it’d be great mobile advertising with Pascoe’s Warehousing plastered all over it. The e-mail and stuff can come later – when you’re more established.’
She wanted to tell him to mind his own business – but then he obviously did – and he owned an airline while she was the proud possessor of a shed. He might just be a few rungs further up the trade acumen ladder than she was. And he was dead right about the advertising. She shrugged. ‘It makes sense. I might just do that. Always supposing that I’ve still got a business to run.’
Bugger. She shouldn’t have said that. He was a customer. He’d probably go hot-footing off to find somewhere more secure. She smiled, trying to diffuse the situation. ‘There’s a silly rumour going around that someone wants to buy up the leases here. I don’t think it’ll make any difference to us as tenants, even if it is true – which I doubt. That’s what Sylvia and I were discussing earlier.’
Jonah placed his coffee mug down beside hers and exhaled. ‘Christ – you as well? I thought they’d be happy with just buying up the airfield. I didn’t think they’d be interested in anything outside the perimeter.’
Billie felt a squirm of foreboding in her stomach. ‘Who? What – you mean you’ve heard the same thing? You think it’s true?’
‘Too true, I’m afraid. I think we’re all in the same boat.’
‘And whoever it is, is going to buy the airfield and the units? And do what? Not what Zia said, surely? Not turn it into a Bluewater? The bastards! The greedy bastards! If could find out who it was then I’d –’
‘Oh, I think I can help you on that one.’ Jonah stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. It flopped forward again straight away. ‘I think Whiteacres is being bought up by my ex-wife and her lover.’
Chapter Fifteen
As conversation-stoppers went, it was a killer. In the stunned silence Billie, still in the middle of ‘Custs Prospect’, completely forgot herself and switched off the computer. It made an angry buzzing noise and flashed a bit. She stared at the blank screen. ‘Oh, sod it! I’ve probably wiped everything off.’
Jonah was reassuringly confident. ‘You shouldn’t have done. Not as long as you’ve used your document-save option.’
Had she? She didn’t know, but she was damned if she was going to admit it. She played with the pages of her notepad instead.
‘Er – your ex-wife, you said? Um – is buying up an airfield the normal sort of post-martial settlement in aviation, then?’ She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to see betrayal in his eyes. He could well be on the other side, after all. A lot of people were very chummy with their exes.
‘No, thank God.’ He swooshed the remains of his coffee about in the bottom of the mug. ‘I can’t be absolutely sure, of course, but the last time Claire came to see me, she sort of hinted that there may be a takeover in the offing. I assumed she just meant the airfield, not the adjoining land, but as I hadn’t heard anything on the grapevine I just put it down to her being – um – well, to her imagining things . . .’
Hell of an imagination, Billie thought, and suspiciously selective. Especially if she was the one who was intending to buy the airfield. And if she was, why did she tell Jonah first? Did she still love him? Was it a warning, or was it a vendetta, or what? And what, she wondered, did Estelle Rainbow, make of the whole affair?
It certainly put everything on a different footing, though: this was in a whole bigger league to someone coming in and taking over the leases of the sheds for a bit of extra pocket money. It could finish her and Sylvia altogether – not to mention Zi-Zi’s and the Gusper boys. Fred ’n’ Dick, she always felt, were a touch subversive. They may well welcome the intervention.
‘But surely, no one can just buy an airfield, can they? Otherwise, people like Richard Branson or that guy that owns Ryanair or someone would buy up Gatwick and Heathrow and have a monopoly and –’
‘Whiteacres is privately owned,’ Jonah said, putting his mug down on top of ‘What I Can Afford’. ‘I’ve checked. I lease two hangars and rent my parking spaces from Whiteacres Aviation Inc. They’ve always just sucked money out of my bank account on a regular basis and written to me every so often on Airforce Blue Conqueror paper. I was never sure if they were real.
After Claire’s visit, I was concerned enough to ask a few questions.’
And? Billie thought. Bloody and? This is my livelihood we’re discussing here. For God’s sake get on with it.
Jonah took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. Whiteacres Aviation Incs happen to be the rather disinterested descendants of a lot of World War Two aces who flew from here in the forties. Their fathers bought the field and premises out of sentimentality; their offspring have no such high ideals. I gather that if all the board members are in favour and the price was right, then yes, the airfield could be offered to an outside consortium, and wouldn’t necessarily have to retain its identity.’
‘Oh, bugger. Then that means that they could sell lock, stock and fuselage and the whole place could be turned into AeroDisney or something.’ She was rather pleased with the avionics allusion. Not bad for an planephobe. ‘But surely, it would still cost a fortune – and – well, forgive me if I’m straying into personal territory here, but is your ex-wife in a position to stump up that sort of cash?’
Jonah laughed. It didn’t sound very good-humoured. ‘If Claire’s right, and Aerobatic Archie is behind it, then the price would probably make a mere dent in his small change.’
‘Who the hell is Aerobatic Archie?’
Jonah grinned, but it didn’t flicker across the pale blue of his eyes. ‘It’s what my copilot, Vinny, calls my – um – replacement in Claire’s life. Antony Archibald. Aviation Ace and Arsehole.’
Whoops, Billie thought. ‘Another pilot?’
‘Pilot, predator and prat.’ Jonah picked up her notepad and started flicking through the pages. ‘Heavily decorated, Gulf War hero, mentioned in dispatches, daredevil – all that sort of gung-ho crap.’
Billie, who was totally unaware of the flyers’ pecking order, pulled a face. ‘Not one of your best buddies, then?’
Jonah fanned out the pages of the notepad in irritation. Billie wished he’d stop. There were all sorts of personal things in there like: ‘Must buy deodorant and Tampax. ‘Remember loo cleaner.’ ‘Kieran Squires is a bastard Reuben Wainwright is a –’
She reached for the pad before he realised what sort of infant he was talking to. ‘And this – er – Archie? If he bought Whiteacres, would he keep it as an airfield?’
Jonah let go of the notepad with some reluctance and picked up a pen instead. ‘According to Claire, yes. But not as a working one like it is now. More, as you suggested, as a sort of combined museum, theme park, and corporate hospitality jamboree.’
Just the sort of place then, Billie thought, that would be gagging to have a warehouse and a replacement window company, not to mention sheds full of old clothes and holiday brochures, on its doorstep.
‘And, do they, the Aviation Incs, own the land these units are on as well, then?’
Jonah dropped the pen and looked rather longingly once more at the notepad. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’ve got no idea whether they’re part of the package. I suppose they must be though, if you’re getting letters saying someone’s interested in buying.’
Suddenly it dawned on her that the survival of Whiteacres was Jonah’s future too. She hadn’t really thought of that. She’d been so busy worrying about the sheds that she hadn’t given a moment’s thought to how it would affect everyone at the airfield.
How selfish could she get? She may be losing premises that she’d had for no longer than an eyelash bat, but he’d have to find somewhere else to house planes . . . And to he bought out by your ex-wife’s lover was very much like having acid poured into your gaping wound.
Billie, tucking the notepad securely at the bottom of her bag, stood up. It was late. She was exhausted. And now she was dispirited as well. ‘Maybe the Aviation Incs won’t want to sell. Maybe they’ll turn – er – Archie down. Maybe it’s someone else altogether that wants to buy us up – someone who will keep it all going just as it is. . .’
It sounded a bit feeble when spoken out loud. She started to gather her up her fleece and her scarves. I really ought to be making tracks. I’ve got to see Maynard and Pollock, the leasing agents, in the morning. They should be able to confirm who the purchaser is. Perhaps we could both do a bit more digging and – um – leave notes for each other or something?’
Jonah shrugged and slid from the desk. He was much taller than she was, but then most people were. ‘Yeah, we could do. I’m really sorry about all this.’
‘God, it’s not your fault.’ Billie walked out into the shed, wondering if Jonah intended staying or if she should switch off the lights and the heating. No, if she did that he’d think he had to leave, wouldn’t he? Best to check. ‘Are you staying on for a while?’
‘Probably. If that’s OK with you. I really don’t want to go home.’
He’d followed her. They were now alongside the Stearman. He must have had a major falling-out with Estelle.
‘Fine by me. But don’t you have to have some sleep by law? Aren’t pilots supposed to have legalised breaks like lorry drivers?’
‘I’m not flying tomorrow. I’d thought I’d spend all day finishing off in here. There’s only a bit more left to do. Barnaby had to go home to Derbyshire tonight, but he should be back at the end of next week. I’d hoped to have her completed by then before the end of the good weather, so that we can take her up.’
Next week? That quickly? That meant he wouldn’t be needing to rent her floor any longer. Bang would go a nice chunk of income. She tried not to let the disappointment show.
‘That was a bit transparent of you, if you don’t mind me saying. You’d make a lousy poker player.’ Jonah ran his hand over the Stearman’s exquisite livery and grinned at her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll still need the storage space. I’d like to use this as a hangar for the foreseeable future. If we’ve got one . . .’
That would be OK then. Short term at least. The words were so gloomy. They both, she thought, had an awful lot to lose. Everything, really. Not just tangible grown-up stuff like incomes and security, but more important things like hopes and dreams and happiness.
‘Of course we’ve got one. There’re loads of people affected by this. Everyone at the airfield, and all of us in the units. Surely, if we all get together and fight –’
‘It’s not a 1950s feel-good film,’ Jonah said. ‘It’s not Cliff Richard in Happy-Clappy Land. This is real life. We’re not all going to band together and say things like, “Hey, kids – let’s put on a show!” are we?’
‘Sod real life,’ Billie muttered. ‘And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to go to the loo. Having drunk enough coffee tonight to wipe out the national debt of Brazil, I’ll never make it back to Amberley Hill if I don’t.’
Returning five minutes later, she thought Jonah had changed his mind and left. The shed looked deserted.
‘I’m over here . . .’
Billie peered into the shadows. Jonah emerged from underneath the Stearman’s lower wing, standing up and pushing his hair away from his eyes. He really was breathtakingly gorgeous, Billie thought. Pity he had the baggage of Claire, the obviously not-very-ex-wife, not to mention Estelle, hanging round his neck like a ton of Louis Vuitton.
‘Just another three thousand rivets to go.’ He looked a lot more cheerful. ‘Don’t you think she’s beautiful?’
Estelle? Yes, damn her eyes. Claire? Very probably. Jonah didn’t seem the type of man who would marry Miss Mouse. Oh – he meant the plane. Billie nodded. ‘Yes, I do. Much as I don’t like planes, I was actually thinking how lovely it was earlier. Sort of friendly and beautiful at the same time. A bit like Joanna Lumley . . . Oh – sorry, it’s not an it, is it? It’s a she? Has she got a name?’
‘Not yet – but I think she’ll have to be Joanna after that. I only hope Miss L. is flattered. I’ll christen her after the maiden voyage.’ He was grinning. ‘Not something you’ll be volunteering for, I gather?’
‘I’d rather have my toenails removed with rusty pliers.’
‘I’ll take that as a no, then.’ He leane
d against the wing. ‘Why don’t you like flying?’
Billie paused in wrapping a scarf round her throat. All the usual reasons. Fear, mainly. You know, the thought of floating miles up in the air in something that weighs about the same as Luton.’
‘I must say, you have a superb grasp of aerodynamics.’
‘Thanks. One of my best subjects at school.’ Billie smiled at him. She hadn’t expected him to be funny. ‘Then there’s the feeling of not being in control. Entrusting my survival to someone unseen up front who could just have had a row with his wife and be on a suicide mission . . . oh. . .’
‘Go on.’ The grin was still there.
‘Oh, right – sorry – but I can never quite get out of my mind the possibility of falling out of the sky. Not just me – the whole damn thing. Don’t tell me it’s the safest form of travel because I’ll never believe you. It’s not a fear of heights or anything wimpy like that, just fear of death.’
Jonah moved away from the wing. ‘So you seriously wouldn’t be interested in a jaunt in the Stearman, then? Not even when me and Barnaby have proved she’s airworthy?’
‘What? In something that hasn’t even got a roof? You have got to be joking. I’d have to be bound and gagged and fed two bottles of gin first.’
‘Really?’ Jonah’s eyes gleamed as he leaned into the cockpit. ‘Is that all it would take? I’m sure it could be arranged.*
Billie suddenly came over very hot and tugged the scarf off again. She wished he’d stop smiling. He was much easier to cope with when he was morose. ‘Is it difficult to fly?’
‘Generally or specifically?’
‘This plane. Is something made of sticks and sealing wax more complicated than a jumbo jet?’
‘No idea. I’ve never flown a jumbo. My charter plane is a twin prop Shorts – which does have the advantage of a computer and an autopilot – but everyone says that flying a Stearman is a piece of cake. It’s landing them that’s the bugger.’ He motioned towards the cockpit. ‘Come and sit in her. There’s nothing to be afraid of. She can’t move an inch – and at least you’ll know what it feels like, won’t you?’
Walking on Air Page 16