Flights of Angels

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Good,’ he said, thinking that he’d probably rescued her from an evening alone in front of an old movie.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Claudie said, as they came to a pedestrian crossing, ‘where shall we go?’

  ‘I don’t know. Any ideas, French girl?’

  Claudie laughed. ‘Why does everybody assume that all French people know Paris like the back of their hands?’

  ‘You mean to say you don’t?’

  ‘Well, I’ve only been here once when I was eight, but my mother spent all the time shopping for clothes, so we didn’t get time to see the city itself. All I can remember are an endless succession of shops and frocks.’

  ‘But your mother lives in France, doesn’t she?’

  Claudie nodded. ‘But she’s in the south. Tucked away with a horrible little man who prefers hats to people.’

  Simon nodded as if he understood. ‘So neither of us has the slightest idea where we’re going?’

  ‘It would appear that way, yes.’

  ‘Great!’ he smiled, ‘that’s just the way I like it.’

  Simon and Claudie continued to walk with no real direction in mind, which was the easiest thing in the world to do in Paris, especially if one followed the river. And they could only walk the length of the river so long before spotting the darkly Gothic cathedral of Notre Dame.

  Simon looked at Claudie and they read each other’s minds at once.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, and Claudie nodded.

  Despite her French roots, Claudie had never been to the top of Notre Dame, but she was glad Simon had suggested it because the views were fantastic. And, what was even more fantastic was that the angels had decided to join them.

  Claudie did her best to hide her surprise as they appeared on a stone ledge tucked away from the crowds.

  ‘Did you really think we’d just sit in the hotel room all day when there’s so much to see and do?’ Jalisa laughed seeing Claudie’s expression.

  ‘I don’t suppose so,’ Claudie whispered back.

  ‘Great Scott!’ Bert said. ‘Look at the face on that gargoyle. It looks just like Mr Woo.’

  Lily and Mary giggled at his comment.

  ‘You stinky bird egg!’ Mr Woo retorted.

  The city spread below them in tones of beige and grey. The River Seine ran in a straight line, as if it didn’t dare argue with the orderliness of the architecture and, in the distance, the Eiffel Tower stood proudly governing the city.

  ‘It’s such a romantic place,’ Jalisa enthused. ‘You’re so lucky Claudie - to be here with someone-’

  ‘Don’t start!’ Claudie quickly whispered.

  ‘I was only going to say with someone as nice as Simon.’

  Claudie looked at Jalisa as she tried out a few dance steps on the stone ledge.

  ‘Oh, Jalisa, please don’t tap dance up here. You’ll give me vertigo.’

  Jalisa stopped her little routine, her face glum.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Claudie asked, making sure Simon was occupied with the view and wouldn’t notice her having a private conversation. Jalisa had that far away, abstracted look that was much better suited to Claudie.

  ‘I suppose,’ Jalisa sighed heavily.

  ‘What is it?’ Claudie whispered as Simon took photos from the other side of the balcony.

  ‘I guess it’s just being here, and seeing all these couples.’

  Claudie suddenly felt incredible tenderness towards Jalisa. She knew she could sometimes be a little short with the angels, but she did so want to get close to them, and be there to listen to them when they needed her as much as they were there for her.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Claudie said. ‘It’s been getting to me too. But I didn’t know it was upsetting you. What is it, Jalisa?’

  ‘It’s Robbie.’

  ‘Robbie? Is he the one you mentioned before?’

  Jalisa nodded. ‘I’ve not been able to see him for ages. As soon as I return from flight duty, he’s off on his. When he gets back, I’m away. It’s just awful.’

  Claudie frowned, wondering what on earth she could say to a love-struck angel. It wasn’t a predicament you read about on problem pages. ‘I guess these things take time, don’t they?’

  ‘I guess,’ Jalisa said despondently.

  ‘And you don’t want to rush anything, do you?’

  Jalisa looked up at her. ‘Who are we talking about here? You or me?’

  ‘You, of course!’

  ‘Right,’ Jalisa said, a grin stretching over her face.

  They didn’t go inside Notre Dame but headed, instead, to the lofty heights of Montmatre, wandering around the streets lined with trees which shone a luminous green with their spring clothing, every pore filled with hope for the coming year.

  They watched the myriad artists painting, sketching and caricaturing the tourists. They watched fresh crepes being made, and then stood in line and bought one each, watching as the batter was poured over a hot plate before being covered in chocolate sauce and rolled into a cone. Held in a bouquet of paper napkins, they ate their crepes as they walked down cobbled back streets, cleverly dodging the street artists who seemed determined to paint their portraits.

  ‘Why don’t you have yours done?’ Simon asked Claudie.

  She shook her head, hiding behind her brown bob. ‘No, no,’ she said, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand, ‘I know what I look like.’

  Claudie hated having her picture taken, never mind having a portrait done. In fact, her wedding had been the one and only time that she’d managed to relax in front of the camera. Luke had never understood it.

  ‘Why is someone so beautiful so shy?’ he’d once asked, pointing his throwaway camera at her on top of Striding Edge in the Lake District. Him and his camera. He’d always wanted everything on record. Claudie wasn’t so bothered about that sort of thing but, after he’d died, every photograph he’d taken had become precious. She remembered looking through the stacks of wallets of photos. These were Luke’s view of the world: his special moments - captured forever.

  But Claudie had brought her camera to Paris. She felt for it in her pocket and took it out. Simon paused as she took a photo of the street ahead, and then he gave her a smile which brought her firmly back into the present.

  Claudie liked this kind of sight-seeing: there was no pressure of a full itinerary, and she liked to see the behind-the-scenes of places. Perhaps that was what came of living in Whitby for so long - she knew that the loveliest of places were often tucked away from the eyes of all but the most discerning tourist.

  Walking with Simon, she gazed up at the houses lining the cobbled streets, trying to imagine the people who lived there and the sorts of lives they led. Did they like the tourists as much as she liked the ones who visited Whitby? Or did they object to people cluttering the place and firing cameras at their homes?

  They came to the end of the street and wandered back out into the square and gazed up at the great white dome of the Sacre-Coeur. It was rather unusual as domes went. It was a slimmer version of its Italian cousins, almost as if it had been dieting. But that was the French for you, Claudie supposed, always conscious of the way they looked.

  ‘Do you want to go in?’ Simon asked.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Claudie said, her eyes still fixed on it, ‘only-’ she paused.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve not been in a church for a while.’

  Simon nodded, as if understanding immediately what she meant without the need for painful explanations.

  ‘Well, this isn’t exactly a church, is it? It’s the Sacre-Coeur,’ Simon said, taking a step closer to her and smiling.

  Claudie smiled back. ‘You’re right. Come on.’

  Claudie wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting from the Sacre-Coeur, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for the dazzling light of the building. It was beautiful, and she had, for a moment, the magical feeling that she’d stepped inside a rather large wedding cake. Yet she also felt an o
verwhelming feeling of sadness. Why was that, she wondered? Why was extreme beauty always edged with sadness?

  She looked across at Simon and watched as he walked forward and took a seat. It was exactly what she’d been about to do. She sat down next to him and, for a few moments, they let time wash over them.

  Claudie tried to empty her mind and focus on the things around her: the clack of heels, the squeak of trainers, the whirr of a camera and, almost everywhere, the excited whispers of tourists. She closed her eyes, focussing on these sounds, feeling what it was like to live purely in the present. Somewhere, she couldn’t tell if it was to her left or to her right, a man sneezed. There was a faint rustling from somewhere else - a rucksack against a raincoat, perhaps? Then a little creak and the faint tap of a shoe against hers. Simon.

  Claudie opened her eyes. He was looking right at her. He probably thought she’d been praying.

  ‘I,’ she began hesitantly, as if she had to explain herself, ‘I’d like to light a candle before we go.’

  Simon nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you want to wait here?’

  Simon’s eyes widened a fraction and his lips parted. ‘Couldn’t I light one with you?’

  Claudie felt her eyes vibrate with sudden tears. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry, she said to herself.

  ‘I mean, would that be all right?’ he asked.

  The clack of heels, the squeak of trainers, the whirr of a camera; the place was filled with noise, but Claudie only heard Simon’s words.

  ‘Of course it would,’ she said, and they stood up, walking silently together towards the candles.

  Chapter 44

  The strange thing about Paris, Claudie thought as they left Montmatre far behind them, was that it didn’t seem real. She realised that she’d probably watched one film too many, but she really felt as if she’d walked into a film set, especially whilst walking along the river. She could almost see Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron in An American in Paris, and Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant in Charade, and had to pinch herself to believe that she was really here and not sitting in her front room watching one of her films.

  She took a deep breath; a breath so happy and contented that she didn’t want to let it out. Here she was. Here they were. Claudie, Simon and the angels in Paris.

  They were on their way back to the hotel now. After a foot-fatiguing day, they were going to have a bath and a change of clothes before going out in search of a restaurant.

  Claudie was looking forward to it. All the tension over the mix-up over Paris had ebbed away. She and Simon were having fun together and, for the first time in months, Claudie had worn a smile throughout most of the day.

  ‘Shall I knock for you in an hour?’ Simon asked as they reached their rooms.

  Claudie nodded, and then opened the door into her bedroom, thinking how glad she was that Kristen had made her go shopping for clothes. She dreaded to think what she’d have taken to wear otherwise.

  She was just rifling through her hangers when she heard a little voice from her dressing table.

  ‘Jalisa?’

  ‘Hi, Claudie! I wanted to come and see how things went after Notre Dame.’

  ‘Oh!’ Claudie said. ‘Well, fine.’

  ‘Come and talk to me for a minute,’ Jalisa said, her voice insistent.

  ‘I’ve got to get ready-’

  ‘It will only take a moment.’

  Claudie smiled. She knew when the leader of her flight meant business so she crossed the room and sat down on the stool by the dressing table. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Jalisa grinned. ‘I just thought we should have a little chat. You know I have to write these progress reports every so often. It’s all rather dull but necessary, I’m afraid. Anyway, the Executive Flight Controller’s been on at me because there’s one box on your form I’ve not filled in yet.’

  ‘Oh? Which is that?’ Claudie asked, not really knowing if she wanted to hear the answer.

  ‘It’s the RTMO box.’

  Claudie frowned. ‘What does that stand for?’

  ‘Ready to move on,’ Jalisa said, and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, as if feeling Claudie’s embarrassment for her.

  ‘I see,’ Claudie said at last, resting her head on her hand as she looked down at Jalisa. ‘And do you have a deadline for filling in this box?’

  ‘Not so much a deadline, but there’s always pressure within the department to get as many completed in a month as possible. Last month was a record breaker so we’ve got even more pressure on us than usual.’

  ‘I don’t see how I can help you,’ Claudie said innocently.

  Jalisa glared up at her, placing her hands on her hips like an annoyed headmistress. ‘Claudie, you’re the only one who can help me! Look! I was with you today. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. Simon’s a fine man, Claudie, and he’s obviously crazy about you.’ She paused. ‘Claudie? What do you think?’

  ‘I -’ Claudie began, her voice cracking. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  Jalisa bit her lip. ‘It’s never easy, this part, but you’ve got to move forward.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Then how do you feel about Simon?’

  Claudie’s eyes sparkled like dark jewels with sudden tears. ‘I like him.’

  ‘Well, that’s a good start,’ Jalisa said, her voice warm and encouraging. ‘So why do you sound so sad about it?’

  ‘Because I still love Luke,’ Claudie whispered.

  ‘But you’ll always love Luke. He’ll always be a part of you, Claudie, but you’ve got to think about making some room for somebody else. I know you can do this! You have so much love in your heart and it shouldn’t be shut away there. You’re young, you’re beautiful, and love is out there waiting to be found.’

  Claudie’s eyes vibrated with tears at Jalisa’s words. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so! And so do you in your heart of hearts! Don’t you?’ Jalisa asked, reaching behind her to pull a tissue out of the box.

  Claudie took it and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m not sure how to do this. It feels as if I’m betraying Luke just by being here, and yet Simon was so understanding today. Did you know he lit a candle for Luke in the Sacre-Coeur? I was so touched by that. He really cares.’

  ‘Of course he does.’

  ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

  ‘But you like him, and he likes you. What’s the problem?’ Jalisa said, slowly and cautiously.

  ‘I’m scared,’ Claudie admitted after a moment’s silence. ‘I’m scared of the hurt that love can bring. I never knew I could hurt like that and I never want to go through that again.’

  ‘But you have to be willing to chance that - if you want to love again.’

  Claudie nodded. She knew Jalisa was right.

  ‘It isn’t easy, Claudie. There are no promises or guarantees but, when you get it right, it’s the most perfect thing in the world.’

  Claudie gazed at her reflection in the mirror but it wasn’t her reflection she saw, it was a line of people telling her exactly what Jalisa was telling her now.

  ‘It will happen,’ Kristen had told her. ‘You’ll find somebody, someday, and life will be wonderful again.’

  Jimmy had said something similar too, as had Angela at work and, of course, Dr Lynton.

  ‘Now,’ Jalisa said, bringing Claudie back to the here and now, her eyes twinkling mischievously, ‘what are you going to wear for dinner?’

  Claudie felt a tiny smile lighting her face and she stood up and walked towards the wardrobe, opening it and surveying the colourful contents. It had been a mild day, but what would it be like out at night? She smiled and shook her head. Who cared if she froze, she thought, reaching for her new red dress? And it really was red too: a Kristen-red rather than a Claudie-red, and it was beautiful.

  She turned round, holding the dress out for Jalisa’s approval.

  ‘A definite winner!’ Jalisa said, clapping her hands a
nd spinning round on the dressing table.

  ‘It’s not too much?’

  ‘NO!’ Jalisa shouted. ‘This is the start of your new life, Claudie, so you’ve got to make a statement.’

  Chez Veronique was not far from the hotel and, even though it was busy, they were shown to a table for two which looked out over a lantern-lit courtyard. It was lovely, and Claudie felt as if she was being spoilt. Other than the recent meal out with Kristen, when they’d been asked to leave the restaurant after disgracing themselves, she hadn’t eaten out for ages.

  ‘You’re not disappointed, are you?’ Simon asked, pulling Claudie’s chair out for her.

  ‘What do you mean? It’s beautiful.’

  ‘No. I mean about being here with me instead of Kristen.’

  ‘No!’ Claudie bit her lip at her response. It sounded way too enthusiastic and, despite Jalisa’s mention of RTMO boxes, Claudie was not going to rush anything.

  Simon pulled the chair out opposite her. ‘Good. Because I want you to enjoy this weekend.’

  ‘I am. We are!’

  He gave an anxious little smile as he sat down, and then picked up the menu.

  The food was too good to necessitate any conversation, but Claudie couldn’t help but occasionally glance across the table at Simon. She noticed the way that he nodded his head as he ate, as if passing silent judgement on the food, and how dark his eyes looked in the dim light of the restaurant. She noticed the play of shadows over his face, making it look as if he hadn’t shaved, and the way his fingers wrapped firmly around his wineglass. Claudie had declined wine when he’d offered it, knowing it would send her to sleep, so Simon was slowly making his way through the bottle on his own. It made her smile that he was so enthusiastic about everything. Yet she still felt afraid to talk to him. And she desperately wanted to, because something had been worrying her since they’d left London.

  She bided her time, waiting for the right moment, and there was a moment when she almost managed to get her words together, but the waiter interrupted, trying to sell Simon a second bottle of wine, and Claudie had lost her nerve.