Flights of Angels (23 page)

‘Claudes? Who is it?’ Kristen’s voice called through.

Claudie ran back through to the bedroom.

‘It’s Simon!’

‘Simon? What’s he doing here?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘Why didn’t you answer the door?’

Claudie bit her lip. ‘Because I look a mess.’

‘You’re blushing!’ Kristen said, grey eyes watchful as she sat upright in bed, suddenly very awake.

‘I am not.’

‘Yes you are! And very prettily too.’

‘Shut up.’ Claudie flopped down on the chair by her dressing table and picked up her hairbrush.

‘You should have answered the door, Claudes.’

Claudie stared at her reflection. She
was
blushing. How ridiculous. ‘I have no idea why he was here,’ she said, more to herself than to Kristen.

‘And you won’t know now, will you?’

Claudie shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t suppose I will.’

‘He likes you,’ Kristen smiled. ‘He probably just wanted to say hello.’

Claudie suddenly felt very guilty, but she was still rather annoyed at Kristen for having taken it upon herself to set her up with her ex. Although Kristen had maintained that the dinner had been perfectly innocent, Claudie knew how her friend worked.

It had always seemed rather strange that she’d never met Simon before. In a town as small as Whitby, where gossip spread quicker than warm butter, it was rare not to get the chance to vet your best friend’s beau. Whilst Kristen had been dating Simon, she’d tried to get Claudie and Luke to make up a foursome on several occasions, but Luke had never been into that idea at all. ‘I’m not sharing you with anyone,’ he used to say, which had always made Claudie swell with pride.

So she’d never got to meet Simon the saint: the man who’d sounded so perfect but had failed to make Kristen swoon. They’d had a few dates where they’d talked endlessly but rarely kissed. Kristen had always said that he was more like a brother than a potential lover. No, Kristen had only ever had one love, and that was Jimmy.

Claudie watched as Kristen threw the bedcovers back. Despite the profusion of red hair and the determined face, Kristen looked so vulnerable as she sat with her bare legs sticking out from beneath her oversized T-shirt. If Jimmy could see her like that, he wouldn’t be able to refuse her anything, Claudie thought.

‘Mind if I have a shower?’ Kristen asked.

‘’Course not. Towels are in the airing cupboard.’

Claudie dragged the hairbrush through her hair. Through the mirror, she could see the unmade bed. A bed so obviously slept in by two. She listened as the shower hissed into action and, for a moment, she could almost believe that it was Luke in there.

Somewhere between the supermarket and the harbour, Simon had decided to visit Claudie after all, minus the bunch of flowers. He had absolutely nothing to lose. Except his pride. And he’d felt sure she’d been in. In fact, he had almost been able to make out an indistinct figure at the kitchen door in a long red robe. Or had it been his over-active imagination?

Perhaps she’d been there and had recognised him? How awful if she hadn’t wanted to answer the door to him. Or what if she’d had a man in there? That could explain her wearing a robe at eleven o’clock in the morning.

He’d walked all the way home, wishing he hadn’t tried to add any colour to his blank canvas of a weekend.

‘You’ve got to stop worrying, Kris,’ Claudie said as she made a light lunch. ‘We’re going to have a fantastic time in Paris, when we get back, Jimmy will be begging to have you home.’

Kristen gave a weak smile.

‘You should really be going with Jimmy, you know.’

‘I know,’ Kristen admitted, ‘but it wouldn’t be right to be somewhere so beautiful with a man who doesn’t love you.’

‘Kris! Stop it!’ Claudie said in a hands-on-hips manner. ‘Jimmy loves you. How many times do you need to be told that?’

‘If he loves me, why doesn’t he want to marry me?’

‘Marriage doesn’t guarantee a happy ever after,’ Claudie said, passing Kristen a cheese and Marmite bap.

‘I know,’ Kristen said, sighing the words out hopelessly, ‘but it would make me feel so much better.’

Claudie knew what she meant. When Luke had proposed to her, Claudie had felt her whole body fill with warmth even though they’d been on a particularly windy shoulder of a mountain in the Lake District. It was the symbolism of the thing. The fact that somebody wanted to spend the rest of their lives with you, and that they wanted to show the rest of the world that too.

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Claudie suddenly asked.

Kristen’s forehead wrinkled. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Because it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. I mean, I often wonder how it all happened, you know? How I started off in a small French town and ended up as a widow in Whitby? It sounds like the plot of a ridiculous play, don’t you think? A farce, even, with banging doors, and too many characters and a plot that isn’t really funny.’

‘Oh, Claudes.’

‘No, don’t feel sorry for me, Kris. It’s just that I often wonder what would have happened if I’d never left France. If mother hadn’t sent me over here.’ She stared out of the tiny kitchen window as if looking into an alternative future. ‘I wouldn’t have met Luke for a start. But do you think I might have met somebody else? And what then? I mean, am I fated as a person? Would it matter where I lived or who I met?’

‘I don’t follow.’

Claudie shook her head as she tried to make herself understood. ‘I mean, do you think we’re destined to live the same lives, no matter where we live in the world?’

‘I really don’t know.’ Kristen looked up and suddenly her eyes widened.

‘What is it?’ Claudie asked.

‘Is that Gene Kelly?’ Kristen asked, nodding towards a small corkboard crammed with black and white postcards. ‘Blimey. He’s gorgeous.’

‘You’ve only just noticed?’

‘I couldn’t help noticing really. You’ve got him in every room of the house. He’s even in the bathroom!’ Kristen laughed. ‘It was a bit embarrassing standing completely naked in front of a life-sized poster of him.’

Claudie giggled. ‘He keeps me company.’

Kristen looked at the postcard again, momentarily forgetting her cheese and Marmite bap. ‘God! Just look at those arms.’

‘I know.’

‘And that cute smile. He’s a real sweetheart.’ Kristen beamed at Claudie. ‘But not as cute as Simon.’

‘Kris!’

‘Just making an observation.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Come on though, you’ve got to admit that Simon’s cute.’

‘I’m not getting into that discussion,’ Claudie said very firmly.

‘I wonder why he was calling. He must think
you’re
cute if he’s calling round already. You’ll have to ring him and find out.’

‘I’m doing no such thing.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I just don’t do that sort of thing.’

‘No, Claudes: heroines in fifties musicals might not do that sort of thing, but twenty-first century women have to.’

Claudie grimaced. ‘I don’t see-’

‘Aren’t you just a little bit curious?’ Kristen asked. ‘Gosh, if I had someone as cute as Simon chasing after me, I wouldn’t run away.’ Kristen suddenly laughed. ‘But I did run away, didn’t I? Ah well,’ she said, flapping her hands, ‘we weren’t meant to be. But you-’

‘I just don’t think it’s right,’ Claudie pleaded.

‘Right or not, you’re going to do it. In the next hour too.’ Kristen got up and grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To Simon’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I need to talk to him.’

‘Kris! Don’t you dare go stirring things,’ Claudie said, panic rising in her voice.

‘I’m not! Don’t worry. I just need a word. It’s got nothing to do with you, believe me. But,’ she said, peering across at Claudie with a very serious expression on her face, ‘by the time I get to Simon’s, I want to hear that you’ve called him. All right?’

‘I don’t think-’

‘
Claudes!’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good. Here’s his number,’ Kristen said, writing it down with a great grin on her face. ‘Give him a call.’

Kristen hovered at the front door for a moment, something else obviously on her mind. ‘Claudes?’

‘What?’

‘What was all that about angels last night?’

Claudie almost dropped the carton of milk she was holding.

‘Were you just a little bit tipsy or do I have to start worrying about you again?’

Claudie put the milk carton on the draining board out of harm’s way. ‘You don’t have to start worrying about me again.’

‘Are you sure?’

Claudie nodded. ‘Now get on out. I’m not going to ring Simon in front of you. And don’t forget your bap.’

Kristen blew her a kiss from the door before disappearing out into the yard, bap in hand.

As soon as she was out of sight, Claudie looked down at the phone number, the paper trembling in her hand like a leaf about to take flight. Was she really going to do this or had she just been humouring Kristen? She looked down at the six numbers. Just six numbers divided them. All she had to do was pick up the phone and dial them. It was easy, wasn’t it?

She walked through to the living room and sat down by the telephone. No, she thought, it wasn’t easy at all. The telephone sat there, white and fat like a sleeping cat. But would it bite her if she dared to pick it up?

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver and dialled before she had a chance to change her mind. He could be on the internet, of course. No. It was ringing. Or out? He might not have gone straight home after calling by hers.

‘Hello?’

Claudie felt her heart skip a beat. He
had
gone straight home.

‘Simon? It’s Claudie.’

‘
Clawwdeee!
’

‘Hello,’ she said, feeling nervous and excited all at once.

‘How are you?’

‘Fine. I’m fine,’ she stumbled, twisting the telephone cord around her index finger until she almost cut off her circulation.

‘Good.’

God. What was she going to say now? ‘Simon? Did you call round before?’ She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling of her living room.

‘You were in?’

She stumbled over her own thoughts. ‘Ye-es. Sorry. I didn’t quite make it to the door.’

There was a pause. Claudie guessed it to be an awkward one.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said at last.

‘I had a late night,’ she said, and almost clamped her hand to her mouth. That sounded just awful. ‘Me and Kristen.
We
had a late night.’

There was another awkward pause, and then Claudie thought of a way out of her dilemma. ‘Was it Kristen you called for?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Because she’s here. You know, because of Jimmy.’ Claudie suddenly bit her tongue. Perhaps he didn’t know.

‘What’s happened?’

‘They had a row. I think it’s just the usual thing, but she’s pretty upset.’

‘Of course.’

There was another pause.

‘So, Simon?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why did you call round?’ Claudie cringed at her question. Did it sound too confrontational?

‘I was,’ he began and then cleared his throat, causing Claudie to pull away from the phone for a second. ‘I was going to ask if you were doing anything this weekend.’

Claudie blinked. She didn’t know what to say. ‘You mean other than sleep and get over drinking too much wine last night?’

‘Yes. Did you want to go out?’ There was no hesitation or throat clearing this time.

‘Yes,’ Claudie replied, shocking herself for being so direct.

‘Good.’

Please, Claudie thought, don’t let there be another pause or I might change my mind.

‘How about tonight? We could go somewhere for dinner,’ Simon suggested.

‘Okay,’ Claudie said, before remembering that she was meant to be Kristen-sitting.

‘Great!’

Claudie felt like laughing. He sounded so happy.

‘I’ll call round at about half past seven?’

‘Fine,’ Claudie said. ‘See you later.’

‘Bye.’

Claudie put the phone down and began to panic. She had only six hours to get ready.

She’d said yes! And the word had practically flown from her mouth. Simon sat down. First the Paris trip and now this. Life was simply too stunning for words.

Paris and Claudie. Now there was a thought. What a shame he couldn’t link the two of those together. He shook his head. She’d only agreed to go out to dinner with him. She’d probably only said yes because she didn’t like cooking. Or maybe she’d grown tired of watching old movies. The possibilities were endless, and they probably had little to do with romance. But he could hope, couldn’t he?

He stretched back on the sofa, kicking his shoes off and not bothering to pick them up and place them neatly in the hallway. He could do that now Felicity wasn’t around, and he liked it. For a moment, he wondered if Claudie had any feminine quirks such as neatness, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head. No, she was perfect, or that’s what he’d let himself believe for a while. She wouldn’t yell if he left a trail of lights on round the house like Blackpool illuminations, or if there were still breakfast dishes on the table at dinnertime.

He was just losing himself in a world of domestic bliss where dishes washed themselves, and shirts ironed themselves when his doorbell went. His heart skipped a beat until reality kicked in and told him that Claudie couldn’t possibly have made it to his front door, even if she’d had a private plane.

He stuffed his feet into his shoes, just in case his mother had decided to make an impromptu visit and noticed that his socks were more hole than wool. But it wasn’t his mother. It was Kristen.

‘Hey!’ He ushered her inside, noticing the red-rimmed eyes that had one of two sources: heavy drinking or heavy crying and, since Claudie’s phone call, he happened to know that Kristen had succumbed to both.

‘Hope you don’t mind me calling round unannounced?’ Kristen said.

‘When have I ever minded?’

Kristen gave him a smile but he could tell it was forced, and then he remembered what Claudie had said.