‘What?’ Jonah lengthened his stride to keep up with her trot. ‘But I’m warning you, it’ll have to be bloody good to lift my sense of impending doom.’
Billie sucked in her breath. She felt no sense of betrayal. She had been frustrated and furious that neither Miranda nor Reuben had been at home, nor at work, since the opening night at Caught Offside. ‘You and Barnaby, and me and Miranda, were going to have a blind date.’
‘What? When? Why didn’t I know about it?’
‘Because you were Miranda’s fantasy man, only I didn’t know it was you, and –’
By the time she’d finished, Jonah was grinning from ear to ear, and they’d slowed to a crawl. ‘So, that night we all met up in the Dil Raj . . .’
‘Was unplanned, but the culmination of Miranda’s wildest dreams, yes.’
‘And you were supposed to be with Barnaby?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you – um – like him, then?’
‘Of course. Oh, but not as a potential partner or anything. I said I didn’t know it was Barnaby, you see. I was just going to be making up the numbers.’ She smiled at him, trying hard not to let the smile erupt into a giveaway grin, and bounded ahead of him across the runway. ‘There – so now that’s cheered you up, we’d better get a move on.’
‘God, I hate bossy women!’ Jonah overtook her. ‘And everyone is staring at you.’
‘Great – as long as it’s with lust not pity.’
Jonah reached back and grabbed her hand. ‘Believe me, it isn’t pity. Come along – try to keep up.’
Still giggling immoderately they arrived outside the Whiteacres Aviation Incs’ offices.
She pulled a face. ‘Are you really sure you want to do this?’
Jonah nodded, but Billie sensed his trepidation. Once he’d put the idea into words it was a reality; a black and white proposal. If the Aviation Incs turned him down what option would he have? Oh, yes – flying off to Paris to be a glamorous daredevil with Aerobatic Archie. She took a deep breath and bit her lip. She didn’t want him to go . . .
Oh, great. The first man she’d felt drawn to since Kieran bloody Squires – and it had to be the one who treated her with the same sort of friendly familiarity as her brothers. Clever choice, Billie, she thought. He’s just lost Estelle and Claire: the man’s obviously going to declare himself a woman-free zone until he’s in his dotage.
The Aviation Incs were obviously about to pack up for lunch. Their receptionist, Melanie according to the badge pinned to her navy-blue jacket, was surprisingly, Billie thought, young and zizzy. Billie had quite expected Vera Lynn. Melanie asked them to wait, casting flirty eyes at Jonah and rather more startled ones at Billie’s outfit. Someone, Melanie said, might be available to see them.
‘Pray it’s Malcolm,’ Jonah whispered. ‘He was the only one with half a brain.’
They waited. The waiting area was very ‘chocks away’. The planes pictured on the walls all made the Stearman look quite hi-tech. Jonah fiddled with his fingers, stared out of the window, and kept clearing his throat. Billie longed to be able to reassure him but didn’t want to raise his hopes. What the hell did she know, anyway? Maybe, secretly, he’d love to wing off with Aerobatic Archie – especially now that Estelle was about to hitch her wagon to the EasyJet star. Billie was still frightened of flying, she still disliked everything that wasn’t earthbound, and yet, to keep Jonah at Whiteacres, she’d do handstands in mid-air . . .
Her introspection was diverted by Melanie leaning over from behind the desk and saying that Mr Bletchley could spare them five minutes, if they’d just like to pop up the stairs and take the third door on the left, is Mr Bletchley, Malcolm?’ Billie hissed.
Jonah shrugged. ‘No idea. Like you and Miranda with Barnaby, we didn’t get round to surnames.’
Crossing their fingers, they popped up the stairs and took the aforementioned door.
Mr Bletchley, plump and florid, stood up from behind his desk, extending a flaccid hand. Jonah grasped it with a sideways look of triumph at Billie. ‘Malcolm! How kind of you!’
‘Flight Lieutenant Sullivan.’ Malcolm waggled Jonah’s hand and stared unashamedly at Billie. ‘The pleasure’s all mine.’
Billie couldn’t help it. ‘Flight Lieutenant? That’s you? You’re a – well – a titled person?’
‘That would be Sir Flight Lieutenant Sullivan,’ Jonah sat down beside her. ‘It’s my RAF rank. I don’t use it.
‘But it’s courtesy to do so, my dear.’ Malcolm leered at her. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Billie said fervently, batting her eyelashes and leaning forward. ‘I’ll never call him anything else.’
Malcolm was still gazing at her. Jonah coughed. ‘Malcolm, allow me to introduce Billie Pascoe. She’s my partner in crime.’
Malcolm practically vaulted the desk to shake her hand. It was as warm and flabby as the rest of him. Billie remembered not to yank her hand away and to keep smiling. He squeezed her fingers. ‘That’s a very fetching costume, my dear. Does it have any significance?’
‘No, I always dress like –’
‘Actually, it does,’ Jonah interrupted, intervening in the prolonged hand squeezing. ‘And it’s partly what we want to talk about this afternoon.’
Malcolm, to give him credit, listened attentively and also made notes. At any point where he looked like he might be about to intercept Jonah’s flow, Billie leaned forward and simpered a bit to get him back on track.
‘. . . and so,’ Jonah concluded, ‘we wondered if you could put all this to your colleagues and stave off the takeover bid? Especially now that my bank’s lawyers have informed me about the CAA flying charter. That it is always to be a fully working air field.
Malcolm nodded for a full thirty seconds in Billie’s direction before speaking. He then seemed to shake himself and nod instead at Jonah. ‘Your backers have certainly researched thoroughly. Whiteacres must never be static – thank the Lord. As you know, I was always fully in favour of your little air display – and I must say preparations are coming on in leaps and bounds. It’s going to be very exciting. Even my partners, who were a little sceptical at the outset, can see great things developing . . . And now this other information regarding the expansion of your company could sway things massively in your favour.’ Billie leaned forward. ‘But, what if some of your other Incs – I mean the other members of the committee – really want to retire? I mean, suppose they’ve all had enough of Whiteacres and just want to get away and snooze in the sun? Wouldn’t they just grab Aerobatic Archie’s money and run?’
Malcolm nodded a bit more and mopped at his neck with a spotted handkerchief. ‘A valid point, Miss Pascoe. But the other bid, while attractive, does seem to miss out on several vital aspects, as Flight Lieutenant Sullivan has pointed out. To be honest, I think two of our more senior members are ready to go. However, I’m certainly not, and nor are some of my more sprightly partners, and we outnumber the would-be retirees so it wouldn’t be outside the realms of possibility for us to elect two new board members – always assuming that the information regarding Squadron Leader Archibald and Mrs – um – Sullivan decamping to France and not intending to be on-the-spot owners of the airfield is correct.’
Squadron Leader who? Billie frowned. Oh, he must mean Acrobatic Archie!
‘It’s definitely correct,’ Jonah said quickly as Malcolm paused for breath. ‘So, if you could just dig into your files and find out definitely whether Whiteacres must, under civil aviation law, not only be an active flying zone but also have an incumbent hands-on owner, and then canvass the other Incs to see who needs paying off – I mean, exactly how much money would be needed to buy their shares in the company and two seats on the board . . .’
Malcolm didn’t take his eyes from Billie. ‘I’ll do it first thing after lunch. However, I’m already fairly confident that we wouldn’t accept an all-out bid from anyone who didn’t intend to be a resident owner of the airfield. And certainly no
t from someone who wanted to turn it into a static display area. After all, Whiteacres has been designated for civil flights – and emergency military usage for the next fifty years – we’d have to have someone here all the time.
Billie cast another triumphant look across the office at Jonah, whom, she noticed, still had his fingers crossed.
Malcolm Bletchley did a spot more mopping with the handkerchief. ‘And I’m also quietly confident that, if we turn down the offer from Squadron Leader Archibald and Mrs Sullivan, and the terms that you and – er – Wing Commander Molton-Kusak are able to offer us are mutually agreeable, then my colleagues and I will certainly welcome new and young blood round the boardroom table.’ Malcolm stood up and shook Jonah’s hand briefly, and Billie’s for far longer. ‘And I must say I can’t wait to see you wingwalking, Miss Pascoe. You’ll be the star of the show, my dear.’
‘She is, believe me,’ Jonah said, steering Billie away from the damp grasp. ‘And I’m very grateful to you for your time. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’
Neither spoke until they got outside the building, then, grinning hugely at each other, Jonah uncrossed his fingers and they exchanged high-fives.
‘Yes!’ Jonah picked her up and swung her round. ‘Yes! I think we’ve done it!’
‘So do I, Flight Lieutenant Sullivan.’ Billie made no attempt to be put down. Being held by Jonah was disturbingly wonderful, and it might never happen again. ‘But, even if you manage to pull everything off, are you absolutely sure you can find enough money to buy out the retiring Incs?’
His horses should bring in some money
‘Absolutely positive.’ Jonah let her slither down the length of his body, but still didn’t let go. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem for me now that the bank have OKed the lease-buy project, and I’m sure Barnaby would be delighted to chip in – especially now Miranda’s turned him down. He’ll need something to occupy him. I’ll just have to persuade him that he’ll be desperately lonely in Derbyshire and that he should consider selling out his pile to the National Trust.
His horses should bring in some money too – and I’ll sway it with him and Vinny by letting them choose Estelle’s replacement – and all the stewardesses. I just need him to come back from America so that I can tell him.’
‘And you don’t feel guilty about dropping Aerobatic Archie and Claire in the mire?’
‘Not at all. In fact, it was immensely liberating. They can bugger off to Chantilly for the rest of their stinking-rich lives, as far as I’m concerned. Now, shall we go and have that drink?’
Billie moved reluctantly away from him. ‘I’d really love to, but it’ll still have to wait. You might have almost sorted out most of your problems, but I’ve still got one or two of my own to resolve . . .’
Driving the van back to Amberley Hill, more respectably dressed again in jeans and T-shirt, Billie sang along to the radio. It was some sort of golden hour, and the times blasting from the speakers were all from the sixties and fizzed with toe-tapping intensity. Perfect for the barnstorming, she thought, leaving the bypass and heading into suburbia. They’d have really red-hot thumping tunes pumping from the tannoy across the airfield during her wingwalking display, so that the excitement in the skies was shared by everyone watching . . . God, she couldn’t wait to get back and tell Jonah.
She groaned. Telling Jonah would be great, but first she had to find Miranda. She and Reuben had to be somewhere. Surely, with them both being up to their eyeballs in their respective businesses, they wouldn’t just abandon them, would they? She had to speak to Miranda urgently about the flat. Faith had managed to scrape a few days away from the farm and would be arriving from Devon on Wednesday, in plenty of time to see the sights of Amberley Hill before enjoying the air pageant. Billie had promised her Miranda’s bedroom. She somehow couldn’t see her mother making up a cosy threesome with Miranda and Reuben Wainwright . . .
She really didn’t want to think about it. She’d still far rather think about Jonah . . . Flight Lieutenant Sullivan . . . She tried hard not to let her lips curl round the words. It was far too reminiscent of the way Estelle had behaved the first time they’d met – she groaned again – and probably about as sad.
If Jonah hadn’t wanted Estelle, why on earth would he want her? In fact, after his disaster with Claire, why would he want any woman? Still, if his plans came off, then he and Barnaby would be on the board of Whiteacres Aviation and staying on at the airfield. At least she’d be able to see him. Still be able to be friends . . . She grinned to herself. Not only a flight lieutenant, but also an Inc. It all seemed very grown up.
Jonah’s plans, apart from scuppering any chance Aerobatic Archie and Claire might have had as bidders for the airfield, apparently involved lease-buying another Shorts 330 and a Skyvan – whatever that was – from an ex-RAF contact in Glasgow. Whatever it was, it seemed to make sense to Malcolm, so it was presumably OK. Sullivanair would then have three planes in their fleet – two for passengers and one designated for cargo – and would therefore be a much bigger force to be reckoned with.
Jonah and his pal in Glasgow had been doing their homework; because so many of the big established airline companies were abandoning economy short-hauls in favour of long luxury flights, the way was currently open for charter firms like Sullivanair to nip into the breach. The mention of the revenue to be raised by publicity and the installation of check-in desks and hangarage and recruitment of air and ground crew to accommodate the huge influx of passengers had all gone over Billie’s head.
However, she understood, along with Malcolm, that with Jonah, Barnaby and Vinny piloting three planes and thus having to employ more staff, and of course, the air pageant putting Whiteacres firmly on the map, that the money currently trickling into Whiteacres’ coffers via Sullivanair could rapidly become a torrent.
Malcolm could probably see Whiteacres status surging forward towards Stansted or somewhere, she thought cheerfully. And with the – what was it? Oh, yes – Slingsby being available for pilot-training and aerobatics, and the possibility of Barnaby getting his hands on another Stearman to make a barnstorming team, Malcolm had been practically orgasmic without her even needing to flutter her eyelashes or press together her breasts. Jonah and Sullivanair, she thought, as she approached Amberley Hill’s winding streets, were definitely onto a winner. She only hoped she was.
The drivers in the taxi office said no, Reuben still hadn’t been in. No one had a clue where he was. Lucky, they said, that the cabbies knew how to run the business with their eyes closed, and yeah, to be honest, things had been much better without him. Oh, and wasn’t it a shit about Vee being sacked? Reuben was a bastard . . .
A very hung-over Pixie said much the same thing about Miranda at Follicles and Cuticles, and added that it was an extra shit because did Billie know that Kitty had buggered off with that lush footballer who’d declared her the winner of the wet footie-shirt competition on the opening night of the club and hadn’t been seen since? Billie said yes, she’d heard the story several times in the last couple of weeks, and made Pixie promise to ring her the minute Miranda – or even Kitty – showed up.
Billie probed her feelings as she drove to the flat and found that she hadn’t any. The first time she’d heard about Kieran and Kitty she’d actually laughed. She knew now that Kieran wouldn’t change – and there had probably been dozens like her, like Kitty, in the intervening years. She just felt a bit sorry for Fenella and the children.
Miranda wasn’t at the flat, and there was still no evidence that she’d even been in to collect her post. Billie drove back to the Spicer Centre and parked the van. Drawing a blank at Mulligan’s, she mooched idly though the precinct, looking in shop windows. A road-sweeper, collecting the debris outside Caught Offside, looked up and winked. Billie, forgetting to be offended, winked back.
She watched him shovelling up broken bottles and abandoned glasses and cans . . . Yes, of course . . . Crunching the litter underfoot, she pushed her w
ay through the double doors.
Caught Offside’s entrance hall smelled strange, clean and lemony. Someone was working hard to maintain the new regime’s standard, she thought. As Bazooka’s it had always had a lingering aroma of stale smoke and sour alcohol.
She walked through into the club. Beneath the overhead lighting, it all looked sparkling and brand-new – and still, much as she hated to admit it, very impressive. Amazingly, Miranda, heavily tanned and wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a workmanlike apron, was pushing a broom across the floor and laughing to herself. Unseen, Billie watched her for a moment. Miranda was obviously blissfully happy. Was she wearing a wedding ring? Billie couldn’t see. She chewed her lips, watching Miranda’s happiness. She couldn’t bear it if Miranda was hurt again – and Reuben would surely hurt her, wouldn’t he? And anyway, where the hell was he?
‘I wonder if I could have a word?’
‘Billie! Doll!’ Miranda, her plaits clipped on top of her head and her eyelashes skewwhiff, dropped her broom with a clatter and leaped across the halfway line and through the terraces. ‘Brill to see you! Have you missed me? Oh God, we’ve got so much to talk about! I haven’t seen you since the opening night and – well, so many things have happened!’
‘Have they?’ Billie peered at Miranda’s left hand. She was wearing rubber gloves and there didn’t seem to be a tell-tale lump underneath the latex on the ring finger. ‘I thought you might have been in touch.’
Miranda looked shamefaced. ‘Yeah, I know – and I really should have been. Especially after that hoo-ha with Kieran Thingy. I was frantic about you!’
‘Yeah,’ Billie said. ‘So frantic that you couldn’t even be bothered to ring my mobile or the warehouse or –’
‘To be honest, doll,’ Miranda hugged her, ‘we haven’t long got back. We’ve been away, see, and we touched down at seven this morning, and Bertie Malone was on the phone straight away to say the cleaners hadn’t turned up yet so Reuben went to see him to get all the griff and I came straight here – complete with jet lag and – Oh! Are you all right?’
Walking on Air Page 40