Flights of Angels (24 page)

‘Come on through. It’s time we had a talk.’

Kristen nodded as if she’d worked that out for herself.

Simon knew he made a mean cup of tea and, once two steaming mugs had been placed side by side on the table in the living room, he thought he’d better start making his apologies.

‘Look, Kris. If your row with Jimmy has got anything to do with this trip to Paris, I’ll be happy to call the whole thing off.’

‘Paris?’ she said in surprise. ‘It’s got nothing to do with Paris.’

‘But I thought he’d found out about the weekend?’

‘No!
God, no!
He has no idea about it. And you mustn’t say anything either.’

‘I won’t,’ Simon assured her. ‘So what’s happened?’

Kristen sipped her tea by way of delaying her answer. Simon didn’t want to ask her if it was the usual old argument but he had a feeling that it was and, the longer Kristen took to answer, the more he suspected it.

‘I’ve left him,’ she said at last in a very small but very calm voice.

Simon almost spilt his tea down the front of his shirt. ‘What - really?’

‘Really.’

He weighed her up for a moment. After all, there were degrees of leaving. There was Kristen-leaving and Felicity-leaving, and Kristen-leaving didn’t usually amount to more than a night’s separation from Jimmy whilst Felicity-leaving involved fleecing the house of everything of value, and a little bit else besides.

‘What happened?’

Kristen gave Simon the Technicolor version of Friday evening, and he made all the appropriate noises at the appropriate times until Kristen had purged herself, and they were left shaking their heads at each other.

‘Anyway,’ Kristen said at length, pushing her hair away from her face and smiling brightly at him, ‘did Claudie call you?’

Simon smiled, partly because he was relieved that they’d changed the subject, and partly at the memory of the phone call with Claudie.

‘
Simon?
’ Kristen goaded. ‘She did, didn’t she?’

Simon’s smile grew into an obscenely large grin. ‘Yes.’

‘And?’ Kristen leant forward like an inquisitive chat show host.

‘And we’re going out tonight.’

‘NO!’

‘
YES!
’

‘That’s great!’

‘It is, isn’t it?’

Kristen nodded. ‘So what did you say to her? Or did she ask you out?’

‘Kris!’

‘Okay! It’s none of my business,’ she agreed, probably making a mental note to quiz Claudie about it later on, Simon thought mischievously.

‘But you like her, right?’

‘Of course I like her! I wouldn’t be exchanging an evening alone watching family quiz shows if I didn’t like her.’

‘So I might have got something right for a change?’

‘I’m not going to answer that - yet.’

‘Okay,’ Kristen said. ‘Mind if I use the bathroom?’

Kristen nipped upstairs feeling rather pleased with herself for having introduced Simon to Claudie. Her suspicions had been correct. They were just so right for each other.

As she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom cabinet, Kristen suddenly thought of how much fun she’d have telling Jimmy about it all. She loved proving him wrong, but she wasn’t able to tell him, was she? She’d be spending another night at Claudie’s. Alone too, if Claudie was out late with Simon.

As she looked around the bathroom, she noticed that there was a distinct lack of female. There were no fancy bath salts or feminine bottles of lotion; there were no fluffy make-up bags or soaps on ropes. And then a thought occurred to her. What would the bathroom in Cabin Cottage look like if she removed all of her things? She tried to imagine Jimmy’ toothbrush standing alone in the blue enamel mug, but it was too sad to contemplate.

She was just coming out of the bathroom when she heard the front doorbell ring. Watching from the top of the landing as Simon opened the front door, she couldn’t quite see who it was. It wasn’t until she heard a familiar voice that her stomach flipped in horror.

‘Is that what you call a greeting?’ a loud, lordly voiced asked.

‘Felicity?’

An arm pushed past Simon, and Kristen watched as Felicity charged into the house, suitcase in hand.

‘Well?’ Felicity asked, expectancy fuelling her voice. ‘Aren’t you going to welcome me home?’

Simon watched in stunned silence as Felicity brought her suitcase into the front room. She sat down on the sofa but not before brushing a few biscuit crumbs onto the floor and plumping the cushions. She looked pale, and had maybe even lost a few pounds since he’d last seen her.

For a split second, Simon almost felt sorry for her, but he could still see that cold edge to her. She practically exuded coldness as if wearing it as a perfume.

He sat on the only other chair in the room and stared hard at Felicity. He had about a hundred things he wanted to say to her, and none of them were very pleasant, but he waited for her to speak first. He couldn’t wait to hear this particular explanation, and could only hope that she was here to return the money she’d stolen from him. He was in dire need of it at the moment.

‘What have you been doing with yourself?’ she started clumsily.

Simon gave her a blank look. ‘It’s Saturday. I’ve not been doing anything.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

Simon had a feeling that he knew exactly what she meant. How much money was he earning now? That’s what she wanted to know, and he wasn’t about to tell her. She’d taken enough of what was his already.

‘Has your business taken off?’ she said, her tone sounding exasperated.

‘It’s doing okay.’

She eyed him for a moment, lining up the next question in her head. ‘So you’re doing all right now?’

‘I’m getting by,’ he said, being as polite and evasive as possible.

There was a moment’s pause as they looked at each other, and Simon thought that he had said all that he wanted to this woman. Their business was done. It was over. History.

‘Well if you’re not going to make me a cup of tea,
I am
,’ Felicity said, suddenly getting up and walking through to the kitchen. Simon didn’t bother to follow; instead he remained sat down and counted to three.

One. Two. Thr-

‘Bloody hell, Simon. You could have done the washing up!’

Simon closed his eyes. This wasn’t happening. This was a nightmare from which he’d awake at any second.

‘Pssst!’

There, he thought. That was his alarm clock.

‘Pssssssst!’

Although he’d never heard it make a noise like that before.

‘
Simon!’

He opened his eyes. It was Kristen. He’d forgotten all about her. He got up and walked quickly to the door whilst Felicity was cursing in the kitchen at the state of the place.

‘What’s she doing back here?’ Kristen whispered angrily.

‘I don’t know yet. She hasn’t told me.’

‘Why didn’t you just tell her to f-off?’

‘She didn’t give me a chance.’

‘God, Simon! Are you a man or a mouse? Give you a chance! Don’t you remember what she did to you?’

‘Of course I bloody remember! Just give me some time to work it out.’

‘What do you need to work out? She’s a bitch.’

‘Shush!’ Simon waved his hand in the air, terrified Felicity might hear them.

‘What perfect timing, as usual. What are you going to do?’

Simon scratched his head and frowned. ‘Try and find out what she’s done with my bloody money, and then get rid of her.’

‘I mean about Claudie?’

‘Claudie? Bloody hell! What’s the time?’

‘Time you should be getting ready for your date with Claudie.’

Simon rolled his eyes. ‘Kris, you’ve got to help me.’

‘Didn’t I just know it? And I came here thinking you could help me!’

They smiled hopelessly at one another. ‘I really don’t want to let Claudie down.’

‘And I don’t want you to let her down. I feel responsible for all this.’

‘So what are we going to do?’

Kristen sighed, peeking through the gap in the door to make sure Felicity was still ensconced in the kitchen. ‘You sort Felicity out, and I’ll explain to Claudie. Just make sure you get rid of her this time - don’t let her wangle her way back in with you.’

‘I won’t,’ Simon said, pushing Kristen towards the door.

‘Because I know what you’re like. You’re a soft touch.’

‘Just what I needed to hear.’ He opened the door and they stood looking at each other for a moment. ‘Kris - Claudie-’

‘I’ll tell her, don’t worry.’

‘Thanks.’ Simon closed the door as quietly as he could and returned to the living room just as Felicity was walking back through with the tea. He quickly picked up his previous cup and that of Kristen’s before Felicity could spot the great red lipstick mark on it, and took them through to the kitchen.

When he returned, Felicity had curled up on the sofa as if she’d never been away, her face like a Siamese cat: beautiful and cruel. Should he shout at her? Should he rant and rave about how much she’d hurt him? Should he mention the mammoth withdrawal from their joint account? Or should he listen to what she had to say? If he was perfectly honest, he couldn’t wait to hear her pathetic excuses. After the months he’d spent trying to work out what had gone wrong between them, and coming to the conclusion, via dozens of conversations with Kristen, that it had nothing to do with him, he couldn’t wait to hear the lies Felicity had had time to concoct.

Yes, he thought, he’d listen. And
then
he’d throw her out.

But nothing could have prepared him for what she said in a voice as cold and still as a frozen canal.

‘I’m pregnant.’

It was just after seven when Kristen arrived back at Claudie’s cottage. She knocked on the door and was surprised by the speed at which it was opened.

Claudie stood in the doorway, her little black skirt and black velvet jumper on. Her face was glowing with make-up and her hair was up in curlers.

‘Kris!’

‘Hi, Claudes.’

‘I can’t stop, I’m afraid,’ Claudie said as she walked through to the living room, fixing a pair of silver hoops in her ears. ‘Did Simon tell you? We’re going out.’ Claudie suddenly stopped. ‘Is he with you?’

‘No,’ Kristen said, her face pale and grim. ‘He’s with Felicity.’

Simon looked across the expanse of living room at the cold eyes that stared expectantly at him. Had he heard her right? He
had
, hadn’t he? It was only two words but they were enough to change the course of a lifetime.

He looked across at her. She looked very beautiful in her own, icy way: her vanilla blonde hair cropped short around her heart-shaped face, and her pale eyes wide with expectation. Yes, Simon thought, she expects something from me.

He realised that it wasn’t so long ago that he’d wanted to marry this woman. He’d thought they’d had a future together. But all those thoughts and dreams had evaporated when she’d walked out nearly seven months before.

Seven months
. The thought struck him singularly and powerfully. He was no mathematician, but a baby only took nine months to cook, didn’t it? He looked across at Felicity’s stomach. It looked more like an ironing board than a space hopper.

Felicity seemed to be following his train of thought.

‘I’m eight weeks pregnant,’ she explained.

‘Eight weeks?’

She nodded.

Simon rubbed a hand over his chin. For a few dreadful moments, his mind had spiralled away from logical thought and he’d sincerely believed that she was carrying his child. But this revelation put a whole new slant on things.

He began tentatively. ‘So, who is-’

‘Does it matter?’

Simon frowned. ‘Does it matter who the father is? Well, call me old-fashioned, but I rather think it does.’

Felicity responded by grinding her teeth. ‘We broke up. It didn’t work out, okay? Happy?’

‘I’m happy,’ he said, unable to resist the opportunity. ‘But you aren’t it, would seem.’

‘Look,’ her voice suddenly took on a more gentle timbre, and Simon knew at once that she was in seduction mode. ‘I’ve made a mistake. I thought the grass was greener. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Simon wanted to laugh at the clichés that were pouring out of her mouth, but he wasn’t that cruel. Or was he? After all,
she’d
been that cruel. She hadn’t spared a thought for how he might feel so why should he now?

Something clicked and whirred in his brain. Something which reeked of revenge. ‘And what is it you want from me?’ he asked, deciding to be absolutely honest with her from the start.

‘I want to come back, Si.’

Simon winced. He’d forgotten how sharp she could make his name sound. It wasn’t the friendly way Kristen said it, or the slightly exotic way he imagined Claudie would shorten his name to. It was short and spiky and rather sinister, because he knew she only used it when she wanted something from him.

‘I want to come back,’ she repeated. And it wasn’t a question uttered in a moment of humble contrition; it was a simple statement.

Claudie didn’t say a word. Instead, she raised her hands to her head and began to untwist her curlers one by one. It was the singlest, saddest movement Kristen had ever seen.

‘Claudes-’

‘No!’ Claudie interrupted quietly but with great force. ‘Don’t say anything.’ And she walked through to the bedroom, her glossy brown curls bouncing happily around her sad face.

Kristen sat down on the edge of the sofa bed and sighed heavily. She looked around the tiny front room which was even smaller than that of Cabin Cottage. Her eyes caught a couple of MGM videos lying on the floor. She shook her head slowly. Life was a mess not a movie. There were no happy endings here, none that she could see at any rate. MGM were the biggest liars ever. They should have been fined years ago for painting the world in colours that just didn’t appear into the ordinary person.

Kristen gave the films her best Medusa look knowing that if they’d been her videos, she’d have got a kitchen knife and slashed them. But they weren’t, so she cried instead.

Claudie sat down at her dressing table, but she didn’t dare look at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want to see what she’d turned herself into for Simon. She knew she should never have gone along with it. What had she been thinking of? She was furious with herself for imagining that she was ready for all this again, but what hurt the most was that she’d been so excited about it all. She’d been thinking of Simon, and not Luke and, now that it had all fallen through, she couldn’t help thinking that she was somehow being punished for attempting to be happy again.