Flights of Angels

by Victoria Connelly

  It wasn’t until they’d finished that she spoke.

  ‘Simon,’ she began, feeling as if the whole restaurant had stopped talking and was tuning in to her broadcast. ‘I’ve done something rather naughty.’

  Simon leaned forward a little from out of the shadows, his brow furrowing. ‘What?’

  ‘I rang Jimmy.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Well, I was going to anyway. I don’t know. I guess I was going to threaten him or something. He’s just so thick-skinned sometimes.’ Claudie paused. ‘But I was going to tell him to get himself sorted out before we got back from Paris.’

  ‘Oh, God! You didn’t mention Paris, did you?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t think he knows anything about it. And if he got wind that Kris was coming with me-’

  Claudie gasped. ‘I hadn’t even thought about that. You don’t suppose he knows, do you?’

  Simon shook his head. ‘No. I doubt it. But what exactly have you done?’

  Claudie took a deep breath, wondering if she should have accepted a glass of wine. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘I rang him from Waterloo. When I told you I was popping to the ladies.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him to get a bloody move on! That I was going away for a couple of days and that Kristen would be sat in my cottage, probably watching her way through my collection of musicals, and brooding.’

  Simon laughed and then shook his head again. ‘Poor Kris.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Claudie felt herself relaxing now that the truth was out in the open. She hated to think of herself as a meddler but, sometimes, a meddle was the only way out of a muddle.

  ‘And what did the big man have to say to that?’

  Claudie shrugged. ‘That’s the thing that’s been worrying me - he didn’t say anything. Although it was rather noisy, so he might have said something. I can’t be sure.’

  ‘So we won’t know until we get back?’

  Claudie had a sip of water. ‘I guess not. I don’t think I should ring again, do you?’

  ‘No!’ Simon agreed, leaning back in his chair and pulling an uncomfortable-looking face. ‘I don’t think Jimmy’s the sort of man to be pressurised into making decisions.’

  There was a moment’s silence as they both contemplated the fate of their best friends.

  Simon sighed. ‘But they’ll sort things out, won’t they? I mean, they’re not going to end up like me and Felicity, are they?’

  Claudie smiled at him, thinking it was sweet that he cared so much. ‘I’m sure they’re going to be just fine,’ she said. ‘If Kris and Jimmy aren’t meant to be together, I don’t know who is.’

  Chapter 45

  Kristen was going to murder Claudie when she got back. She’d just spent an entire evening watching MGM musicals and, rather than being buoyed up by the experience, it had left her in tears.

  She trumpeted into a man-sized tissue. Somebody, she thought, should sue that company. Weren’t musicals meant to warm the heart and leave you with a sense of well being? Well, Kristen’s heart certainly didn’t feel warmed. That song in Cover Girl, “Long Ago and Far Away” was hardly the stuff of rollicking laughter, was it? And the confectionery-sweet ending of In the Good Old Summertime just made her feel worse.

  She felt like complaining to someone about the misrepresentation of life in the movies but, instead, she dried her eyes. They felt as if they’d doubled in size like some cartoon character and, to make matters worse, it was only nine o’clock. What on earth was she going to do with the rest of the evening?

  For a moment, she wondered what Claudie and Simon were up to in Paris. God, she hoped they were getting along okay. After her abrupt announcement that she wasn’t actually going with either of them, she had felt the tension between them. But they’d be all right. If Claudie and Simon didn’t get on then she’d throw herself into Whitby harbour.

  She gave her nose another blow and then got up, walking into the kitchen with the express purpose of rooting around Claudie’s cupboards for chocolate. But she didn’t get that far. Standing, silhouetted in the light of the yard beyond the kitchen door was Jimmy. Kristen almost leapt out of her skin at the sight of him. What was he doing here?

  She watched as he stepped forward and knocked on the door. He’d obviously seen her in the kitchen so there was no chance of pretending she wasn’t in. She took a deep breath and opened the door, looking up into his face but not able to say a single word.

  ‘Kris? he said, stepping into the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter?’ He raised a large hand up to touch her face but she turned away from him.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Have you been crying?’

  She turned her face so that she was hiding behind her hair.

  ‘Kristen,’ he said gently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look at me.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her round. And, as she felt his eyes on her, her resolve crumbled and she found herself crying. Great sobs wracked her body, as if she’d been storing it all up for him. It made the tears in the living room seem like the first drops of the thaw, but this was the real thing now.

  And he didn’t try to stop her. He wrapped his arms around her as if he never meant to let go, kissing her hair and telling her it was all right, just letting her cry into his ridiculously thin T-shirt.

  ‘Jimmy,’ she said at last.

  ‘Yes?’

  She didn’t dare look at him, but she wanted to so much. ‘I missed you.’

  He stroked the side of her face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. ‘I missed you too, Captain.’

  She gave a little laugh. It felt so long since he’d used her nickname, and it sounded so sweet.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.

  ‘That’s what I came to say.’

  She wiped her nose on her already sodden tissue and looked up at him. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘And that’s not all.’ He gave her a smile which made her cheeks flush red. ‘Is there anywhere in this house to sit down?’ he asked.

  Kristen led him through to the living room where they sat down on the beaten-up sofa bed.

  Jimmy leant forward, his long legs sticking out at peculiar angles on the low sofa. ‘I’m probably going to do this badly.’

  ‘Do what?’

  He ran a hand through his thick dark hair and cleared his throat. ‘I’ve had time to think since you left, and I’ve come to realise that life’s pretty damn miserable without you.’

  Kristen felt her mouth falling open at his words.

  ‘And I’ve also realised that maybe - just maybe - I took you for granted when you were around.’ He picked her hand up and kissed it gently. ‘And I want you to come back.’ He paused for a moment and Kristen looked into his soft green eyes. ‘Will you come home, Kris?’

  She felt a basketball-sized lump forming in her throat which almost prevented her from talking. Almost, but not quite. ‘Yes,’ she squeaked. ‘I’ll come home.’

  ‘You will?’

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t think she had left. ‘I’ve been so selfish,’ she whispered, ‘and childish.’

  He squeezed her right hand in his and she placed her left hand on top, making a great hand sandwich. ‘And I’ve been horribly cruel to you. I said some terrible things.’ She paused. ‘You can interrupt me at any time.’

  Jimmy smiled. ‘It’s all right. I’m enjoying this.’

  Kristen smiled back at him. ‘You’re horrible.’

  ‘You’re gorgeous.’

  Kristen swallowed hard. ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yeah. And I don’t tell you often enough, do I?’ He squeezed her hand again and then withdrew it, fishing in his pocket for something.

  Kristen felt as if she’d stopped breathing completely. She mustn’t even begin to think - she shouldn’t build her hopes up - he couldn’t possibly have. Could he?

  ‘Kristen,’ he said, and,
from the way he said her name, she knew that he had. ‘I know you haven’t been too impressed with the amount of time I’ve been spending on my boats recently-’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she said, wishing he’d stop on about boats for half a minute and get on with the serious business of proposing.

  ‘Well, the boats have been necessary. Because they meant I could buy you this.’ He opened his hand and there in his palm was a little blue box.

  Kristen took it with shaking fingers and opened it, gasping as she saw a row of three diamonds winking up at her.

  ‘Jimmy!’

  ‘Kristen. Will you marry me? Will you agree to take me on, despite the ex-wife and the years of reluctance to get married? Despite the front room filled with wooden models, and the unsociable working hours during the tourist season?’

  Kristen gave an excited little giggle. ‘Of course I will!’

  Jimmy bent forward and planted a fat kiss on her mouth before taking the ring out of the box.

  ‘Do you remember which finger it goes on?’ Kristen teased.

  He grinned at her. ‘Don’t push it.’

  ‘I think you might have to. It’s a little tight!’

  ‘Is it?’

  Kristen laughed. ‘Only joking!’

  ‘Come here!’ he said, giving her a hug that made her wonder if MGM should be sued over their happy endings after all.

  Chapter 46

  ‘It never really get dark in a city, does it?’ Claudie said as she and Simon walked back to the hotel from the restaurant.

  ‘There are so many lights,’ Simon nodded, and then laughed. ‘This is the City of Light, after all.’

  ‘Would you ever live in a city?’ Claudie asked, her boots clicking and echoing under the arches of the Place des Vosges.

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Whitby’s urban enough for me,’ he said.

  ‘Me too.’

  They walked in silence for a few moments.

  ‘Thanks for dinner,’ Claudie said, ‘it was really lovely.’

  ‘That’s all right. It was the least I could do after last week.’ They walked through the gates of the hotel and nodded to the girl on reception before heading to the lift.

  ‘So what happened?’ Claudie said quietly.

  ‘What - with Felicity?’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said, and then gave a little laugh. ‘We agreed that things would be better if we went our separate ways.’

  Claudie nodded. ‘And you’re happy with that?’

  Simon looked at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Ecstatic.’

  Claudie grinned back at him. ‘And Kristen? Why did that never work out?’

  Simon laughed again. ‘God! I don’t know. She’s,’ he paused, ‘she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a sister without actually having one.’

  Claudie’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s so funny, because she thinks the same thing about you. Only that you’re like a brother!’

  ‘I know. It’s so weird. But call it chemistry, or fate, or whatever, it just never worked out. But I couldn’t be without her.’

  ‘Me either,’ Claudie said.

  The lift door opened and they walked inside. Simon pressed for the first floor and they waited in silence.

  ‘It’s our last night,’ Claudie said, and then wished she hadn’t. What a thing to say! It was as if she were serving herself up on a golden platter.

  ‘Yes,’ Simon said, not seeming to notice her embarrassment. ‘The time’s gone so quickly. Still got all day tomorrow, though.’

  Claudie nodded, and the lift door opened.

  ‘Well,’ he said as they reached their rooms. ‘Eight o’clock again?’

  ‘Why not make it quarter to?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, watching as Claudie mirrored his smile. ‘Quarter to.’

  Simon lay wide-awake. He knew exactly why he couldn’t get back to sleep, of course. It was because he was going to have to tell her.

  He groaned and sat up in bed, turning to beat up his miserable pillow. It was Saturday night: the night things happened. The night for romance and fun and - declarations?

  Surely the dress had been a signal? Surely Claudie wouldn’t have chosen to wear quite such a red dress unless she was perfectly happy with the idea of him coming on to her? But, then again, she’d been expecting a weekend in Paris with Kristen - not him. She hadn’t bought the dress to send out messages to him.

  Still, she wanted to meet up quarter of an hour earlier for breakfast. That must be a good sign. Or should he not make anything out of that extra quarter of an hour? Maybe she just wanted an extra fifteen minutes of sightseeing.

  He got out of bed and walked over to the window, peering down into the dark street beyond. Not completely dark, of course, as Claudie had pointed out, but the soft dark of a city at night.

  It was nearly four o’clock in the morning. They were into their last day together and he felt as if an hourglass had been turned over and that time was slowly slipping away from him. He wondered whether she was asleep or wide awake like him, peering into the street wondering what to do.

  A strange excitement rushed through his body as if telling him that this was meant to be; that his relationship with Kristen had never meant to work out: that it was but a prelude to this moment.

  He scratched his chin and felt his bristles, rough as unglazed raku. And then, without stopping to reason with himself, he reached for the shirt he’d hung over the chair by the dressing table, putting it on and doing the buttons up. Then he pulled his trousers on over his boxer shorts and slid his feet into his socks and shoes. He did all this without a single thought running through his brain. His heart was pumping too loudly for any thoughts to be heard anyway.

  He picked up the key to his room and stepped out into the corridor before knocking lightly on Claudie’s door. If she was awake, she’d hear him. If she was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. Or did he? He knocked a second time and waited.

  An eternity seemed to pass as he stood in the hallway. He looked up and down the corridor, anxious that somebody might appear at any moment. ‘What do you think you’re doing pestering that poor widow at such an indecent hour?’ they’d say. Only it might be in French. ‘Can’t you leave the girl alone?’

  Simon shook his head. No. He couldn’t leave her alone. He had to see her.

  He jumped as he heard the lock turn and watched the door open.

  ‘Simon?’ Claudie’s snowy face peered round the door. ‘Are you okay?’ she looked up at him, puzzled by his presence.

  ‘I - er - I,’ he hesitated. He couldn’t say it after all. The words, no matter how pressing, just wouldn’t exit his mouth. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, hiding a yawn with a hand.

  ‘And a quarter to eight is a long time away.’

  Claudie gave the tiniest of smiles. ‘I see,’ she said, looking down at his shoes, making him wonder what it was exactly that she could see. ‘Are you going out?’

  He gazed down at his shoes too. ‘I’m not sure. Why? Would you come with me?’

  Her eyes widened very slightly. ‘It’s four in the morning.’

  ‘That wasn’t the question.’

  ‘I know.’

  They stared at one another as if trying to read each other’s thoughts. At last Claudie spoke.

  ‘I’d better put something warm on.’

  Ten minutes later, they were out in the square again, the night air folding around them in a cold cloak. But it still wasn’t dark. The streets were lit as if by a thousand stars.

  There were still plenty of people around: on their way to, or on their way back from clubs or friends, but there was none of the gaudiness of the daytime. Colours had vanished and sounds and smells had morphed.

  Simon and Claudie walked through the streets in companionable silence. Or was it embarrassed silence, Simon wondered? He tried to keep stealin
g sideways glances at Claudie, desperate to know what she was thinking.

  ‘This isn’t what you expected, is it?’ he asked tentatively as they crossed a wide boulevard.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This isn’t what you expected you’d be doing on your trip to Paris. Walking round the city at night - with me.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the last few months, it’s that you should always expect the unexpected.’

  Simon nodded solemnly. ‘Claudie,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m really sorry about what happened to you. To Luke.’

  They had reached the river in what seemed like no time, and Claudie looked down into its inky depths from the bridge, and then stared up at Notre Dame. As Simon joined her, he too looked up at the floodlit cathedral which loomed up into the night sky in dragonesque splendour.

  ‘I hope I haven’t overstepped -’

  ‘No,’ Claudie interrupted him, ‘you haven’t. And thank you for your sympathy. It isn’t easy to give.’ She continued to stare down into the river, her gaze seeming to dissolve in the steady flow of the water. ‘That’s something else I’ve learnt that over the past few months. People don’t quite know what to say or do with me. You know that all these thoughts are skirmishing round their heads, but they say nothing.’ She turned round and fixed her eyes on his. ‘So thank you.’

  ‘If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.’

  She looked up at his face and knew that he was speaking the absolute truth. He would listen to her. And that was a great comfort to know, because there weren’t many good listeners in the world.

  After leaving the bridge, they followed the river. They didn’t stop to worry where they were going; they just walked. Under and over bridges; through parks and squares; passed statues and tramps. The whole city was frozen in sleep. But always, they returned to the river.

  ‘I think this river’s following us,’ Simon said at one point and Claudie laughed.

  And on they walked. And on they talked. Incessantly.