Bright Angel (9 page)

‘You must have been in love to write such a lovely thing,' he said gently, and I blushed and stammered and said, ‘No, no, it was all just imagination, just made-up. I've gone out with people but I've never been in love, never, till–' I broke off abruptly, face aflame.

‘Till?' he said, teasingly, and before I could answer, pulled me down onto his knee and we were kissing again. How long that would have gone on for I don't know if Gabriel, looking fresh and rested, though he sniffled a bit, hadn't come in at that very moment.

I was embarrassed, and jumped off Daniel's knee. But neither of those boys, big or little, was in the least bit embarrassed. Daniel was a young French guy of course and I guess French people aren't as embarrassed about love and romance as Australians but you'd think a little kid would go eugh and yuck or whatever, seeing people kiss. Gabriel wasn't your usual sort of little kid, however. Instead of looking disgusted, he gave me a huge grin and said, ‘Daniel told me you were coming, Sylvie,' and he gave me his hand to shake, which was rather cute and quaint in a person of his age.

‘Are you feeling better, Gabriel?' I asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.' His eyes went to the screen, and Daniel said, ‘You know, Gabriel, Sylvie has made films about angels, we were just watching them. And the name of her angel is Kyriel. What do you think of that?'

The little boy's eyes went all round then. ‘Can I see them too?' And then it was him on Daniel's lap, watching my clips over and over, Daniel translating the words for him, while Gabriel made excited comments from time to time. It was soon clear to me that he believed I had
really
interviewed Kyriel, and I tried to explain I had made it up, but I could see from his expression that he wasn't listening, so I gave up. It didn't matter, anyway. What mattered to me was watching the two of them with their heads bent over the computer, and my heart tugging inside with the most amazing feeling that was part elation and part fear, because nothing could be this perfect, nothing! And there was something else, too. Something that made my scalp prickle.

You see, in my
Interview with an Angel
clip, Kyriel said her job was to make people come to places (I know – sounds like a strange job, but that's what it said in the book about angels which I'd used). Well, I'd come here, at the other end of the world from home – and found a little boy with an angel's name (cos as you probably know Gabriel's also the name of one of the really big, important angels). A little boy with a guardian angel he called Kyriel – and a gorgeous brother I'd fallen for big-time. It was more than fate. Way, way weirder than fate.

It was a great afternoon. The best of my life so far, bar none. After we'd had enough of You Tube, we went out into the garden and played games with Gabriel, who seemed to have recovered his spirits and his energies after his nap. We played handball. Hide-and-seek, chasey. Things I hadn't played since I was a really little kid, but which I found myself really enjoying. Then we got sick of that so we went back inside and Pilar – a smiling, friendly Pilar this time – brought us some cold lemonade and fruit. Then Daniel put on some CDs, some French pop stuff I didn't much like, and some Senegalese music by a band called Orchestra Baobab that, though I couldn't understand the words, was pretty cool, with a great beat. It sounded a bit like the Cuban music Dad's so keen on. Anyway, the three of us danced around madly to all the music, laughing and carrying on.

Breathless at last, we flung ourselves on the sofa and Gabriel insisted on bringing us this big book of angels, which was his favourite thing. It was a great big coffee-table book, full of pictures. Some of the ones I'd used to illustrate my clips were in there too, and Gabriel took great delight in pointing them out. He also told us all these weird little stories about angels, but unlike that time in the cathedral, Daniel didn't get cross with him or say it was fairytales or anything like that. He sort of looked at me over Gabriel's head, raised his eyebrows and gave me a little smile but he didn't try to crush his little brother's imagination or even look bored by Gabriel's obsession. There was nothing solemn or secretive or angry or hard about Daniel that afternoon, he just looked so happy and so relaxed. Nothing could have prepared me for–

No. Not yet. For the moment I just want to remember that, the feeling of that wonderful, wonderful day. I'd never really imagined a day like that. Well, I mean I had, but never expected it could exist in reality.

It was a funny thing, too, but having Gabriel hang around with us didn't feel annoying at all. He was just the coolest and most unusual little kid. And surprising too. He said the most unexpected things. Like when we were dancing around to this song at one point and he said, ‘I think music floats in the air and when we dance we pull it down and then it lives in us,' which I thought was kind of deep and not at all the sort of thing you'd think a six-yearold would say. At least I don't think
I
said anything deep like that at his age.

So the afternoon flew by. At one point Gabriel fell asleep, his head resting against Daniel's shoulder, the big angel book sliding off his lap. I had my head against Daniel's other shoulder, our hands joined. We sat there peacefully, talking in low voices. Daniel spoke about his mother, his grandparents and his childhood in France. It sounded like it had been a happy childhood surrounded by love. And then, quite naturally, I found I could ask him about his uncle, and what it had been like going to live with him. And he answered quite naturally, too. ‘Not easy. I was so angry, at first. Because of my mother dying. And my uncle and I – we do not have
des atomes crochus
with each other.'

I'd heard Dad use that expression before. Hooked atoms, it means, literally. A funny French way of saying you don't get on. ‘You're old enough not to need a guardian,' I said.

‘I know. But not Gabriel. And I do not want to leave him just with my uncle.'

‘Is he mean – violent to you, or to Gabriel?'

He made a fierce gesture. ‘No. Not at all. It is not that. We hardly see him. And when we do he is
très correct.'
Behaves properly, that meant. ‘But there are reasons I – well, it is complicated.' He looked at me. ‘I love my brother, Sylvie. He has lost too much already. I would never, never leave him while he needs me. Not for anything.' He was silent a moment, then added, in a low voice, ‘But I wish more than anything I could look after him on my own. I think sometimes about trying.'

‘You should,' I said.

‘Oh, Sylvie! They would say I was too young. That I do not have a job. Independent money. And my uncle would not agree. And the court would be on his side.'

I was about to argue that it might not be the case, when my mobile rang, waking Gabriel up. It was Freddy. ‘Marc's invited us to a really nice restaurant in St-Gaudens, which isn't very far from here,' she said. ‘We're leaving in half an hour.'

I looked at my watch. My God, I hadn't noticed the time going at all. It was already nearly 6.30! I looked at Daniel, who was gently soothing Gabriel. He had woken up a bit flushed and sniffy and grizzling. ‘Do I have to come?' I asked.

‘We'd like you to, certainly,' she said firmly. ‘What else do you have planned?'

I looked at Daniel again. He wasn't listening to what I was saying. He was distracted by his brother. I thought, Gabriel's not a hundred per cent well, obviously, and maybe Daniel won't want me hanging around. I said, reluctantly, ‘Er, nothing really.'

‘Then come, and don't keep us waiting,' she said briskly, and rang off.

‘I'm sorry,' I said as I got up. ‘That was my aunt. I have to get back.'

‘Yes,' said Daniel, a little vaguely. ‘I understand.' He touched Gabriel's forehead. The little boy closed his eyes. He really did look unwell. ‘I think he has a fever starting.'

‘Do you want me to do anything?'

‘No, no. It is okay. We will take his temperature. Maybe call the doctor if we need to. ‘He looked at me and smiled faintly. ‘You do not need to stay, Sylvie.'

‘But maybe I could help and...'

He frowned. ‘No. Please. We are fine. And you do not want to be sick too.'

‘Neither do you.'

‘I am his brother,' he said simply. ‘It is different.'

‘If you're sure.'

He sighed. ‘Go,
chérie.
I will see you tomorrow.' He reached over and kissed me on the lips. ‘I will dream of you.'

‘Oh, I will too,' I said, swallowing, and fled.

It wasn't a bad evening. Not by any means. The restaurant was elegant, the food – glazed duck breasts, asparagus, delicious, tiny potatoes and peas, followed by a sort of hazelnut meringue with coffee cream that was just to die for – was fantastic, and Marc Fleury was very entertaining, telling us lots of gossip about famous writers and film stars he knew. I'd have really, really enjoyed it any other time. But tonight I had only half a mind on what was going on. The rest of my mind was where you might imagine. When Freddy, noticing my silence, asked me if I was okay, I stammered out that I was fine, I was just a bit tired. Claire smiled teasingly at me but she said nothing. It was Marc who said, ‘So you have made friends with Daniel, yes?'

I blushed. ‘Yes.'

‘He is a fine young man.'

I nodded, blushing even more under the eyes of the others.

‘But he has not yet found his feet. He is, I think, in suspended animation. He is devoted to his brother.'

‘Mmm.' I wish he'd stop talking about Daniel. I didn't want to share him like so much gossip.

‘Gabriel – he is an unusual child. Not quite of this world, I think.' He hesitated. ‘I think perhaps there is something wrong.'

‘With Gabriel? No way,' I said fiercely. ‘He's not crazy. He's just different.'

‘Who said anything about crazy?' said Marc gently.

I shrugged.

‘I am sorry if I gave you that impression,' said Marc. ‘I did not mean that at all. It is just that – well, there has been much sadness in those young lives. The death of their father, many years ago; then their mother, and the move to London, and then their uncle is attacked.'

‘What?'

‘Did he not say? Perhaps not. His uncle Ben was attacked one night when he was returning home from some business dinner. He was beaten up and robbed.'

‘When was this?' Why hadn't Daniel mentioned it? It really jolted me.

‘Oh, a couple of weeks ago. He's okay but he was in hospital just overnight. Cuts, bruises. The police haven't arrested anyone for it. They think it was just a mugging.'

‘And you don't think it was?' asked Claire.

He shrugged. ‘Ben Udo is wealthy and successful so naturally he has made enemies.'

‘I don't understand why that should make him enemies,' I said.

Marc smiled. An annoying patronising poor-littlenaive-child smile. ‘That's the way of the world,' he said lightly.

‘I still don't see why,' I persisted stubbornly. I thought about what Daniel had said about his uncle. Or
not
said. It hadn't sounded like he was sorry for him or anything. And yet the man had been bashed just two weeks ago. Why had he said nothing about it at all? Maybe because he was ashamed of it. But why should he be? More likely because it had scared him. Or maybe because deep down for some reason he really, really did not like his uncle and thought he deserved to be bashed? But that was horrible, surely. Why would you think that? Well, I thought, you might if your uncle has done something bad you don't want to talk about. Maybe he
was
really violent, and Daniel had been just covering up when he said he wasn't. Though he hadn't sounded exactly scared of his uncle, just not all that keen to talk about him.

Before Marc could answer me, Freddy intervened and changed the subject. I suppose she could see this particular line of talk might end in some sort of argument. Which it might have done because Marc was beginning to get on my goat with his patronising smiles and his air of knowing so much better than you did about everything. I'll ask Daniel about it tomorrow, I thought. Gently, of course. Carefully. But if we love each other, we've got to trust each other. But it has to go both ways. I'll tell him about Thomas Radic too, I thought. I'll tell him about it all. I don't want us to have secrets from each other.

After Marc dropped us off back home, and I was getting ready for bed, Claire came into my room without knocking. She said, ‘Syl, are you sure you're okay?'

I stared at her. ‘What do you mean?'

‘It all sounds sort of heavy,' she said. ‘Hard-core. All that stuff. About Daniel and Gabriel.' She hesitated. ‘I mean, they've gone through some bad stuff. They'll be ... damaged.'

I glared. ‘Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about.'

‘You're not serious about this guy, are you? I mean, you can't be, can you? You hardly know him.'

‘I love him,' I said defiantly. ‘I'll never love anyone but him.'

She groaned. ‘You're mad! You're a kid! He's not much older! You can't be in love like that.'

‘Why not? Mum and Dad met at our age. And they still love each other. They're still together.'

‘Yeah, but they're, like, freaks! Nice freaks, but freaks, still. Plus they're from another generation to us, and–'

‘What does that matter?'

‘You musn't think like that, Syl. Please.' She came up close to me and looked earnestly into my face. ‘Look, I think he's trouble, Syl. Trouble with a capital T. I can just feel it. He'll break your heart.'

‘I don't believe that. And I don't care, anyway,' I said.

‘For God's sake, Syl, we're only here for a few weeks! It's just a holiday romance. What happens when we have to go back to Oz, eh?'

‘I don't know. I don't want to think about that just now. Anyway,' I rounded on her, ‘you're right into Marc-bloody-Fleury and you don't seem to care that you might never see him again after the holidays. You don't think about that!'

‘That's different,' she said, helplessly.

‘Why? Because you're older than us? Do you think we can't feel the same way as you do?'

‘That's just it,' she said quietly. ‘I
don't
feel that way about Marc. I mean, I like him. I like him a lot. Heaps, even. He's sexy and he's exciting and fun and all that and I'm going to make the most of my time with him, but I don't expect undying love. I don't even know what I expect from him.'

‘Well, you two are different to us. That's all.'

‘For God's sake. That's the way it works, Sylvie. That's the way of the world.'

‘The world can go jump then,' I said. ‘And if you don't mind, Claire, I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed.'

‘Oh, Syl,' she said and there was the shine of tears in her eyes. ‘I'm sorry to have lectured you like that. I didn't mean to. It's just that I'm ... I don't want you to get hurt. I couldn't bear to see you hurt. Okay?'

‘Okay,' I said, and felt the tears start into my own eyes too as we hugged each other goodnight.