Flights of Angels (34 page)

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 stealing 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.

They talked about Whitby:

‘Don’t you think it strange that we never met before?’

‘Not strange, exactly, but certainly a shame.’

They talked about food:

‘I can’t stand rice pudding.’

‘Neither can I. It looks like sick.’

And, of course, they talked about films:

‘Do you suppose this is where Gene Kelly danced?’

‘Gene who?’

‘Simon!’

‘Only joking!’

And then they stopped talking and were just walking. Claudie thought it was probably to do with the lateness of the hour, as well as the amount of conversation that had poured from them. She’d been tongue-tied before, but this was the first time she’d been tongue-
tired
.

‘It’s late, isn’t it,’ she said, as they finally returned to the arches of the Place des Vosges.

‘I was just thinking that it’s too early,’ Simon replied.

‘Too early?’

They stopped just outside the iron gates of the hotel.

‘Too early for me to say that I’m falling in love with you.’

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a silence like they’d never heard before. It seemed to swallow up all the sound in the world, and seconds seemed to stretch themselves into aeons.

At last Simon spoke again. ‘You probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow.’

Claudie looked up at him and smiled. ‘It is tomorrow,’ she said.

At Cabin Cottage in Whitby, two other people were wide-awake. But they were perfectly happy to stay put in bed, and had no intention whatsoever of venturing outdoors.

Snuggled under the duvet together, Jimmy was busy warming Kristen’s frozen toes. It hadn’t taken him long to get her to pack a bag and leave Claudie’s cottage, and it had taken half that time again for them to find their way into the bedroom. There, they’d kissed, cuddled, made love, slept, kissed some more, made love again and were currently back to a period of prolonged cuddling. With a smattering of kisses thrown in for good measure.

It was good to be home, Kristen thought, as Jimmy lifted her hand into the air and stretched her fingers out so that he could admire the ring he’d chosen for her. Kristen gazed at it wistfully. Just wait till Angela saw it, she thought. And Claudie and Simon! They wouldn’t be able to believe what had happened in their absence.

‘I think,’ Jimmy began a little hesitantly, ‘a long engagement?’

‘Yes,’ Kristen agreed, not wishing him to back down now that she had a ring on her finger.

‘Say two to three years.’

‘TWO TO THREE YEARS!’ the old Kristen kicked in as she turned round to face him. ‘Do you want me to be grey?’

‘It’s a perfectly respectable time.’

Kristen set her mouth in a firm line. ‘Two years - tops!’ she said, withdrawing her hand from his.

‘Two and a half,’ Jimmy replied quickly.

‘One year,’ Kristen said, a half-smile on her face.

‘One year?’ Jimmy questioned.

‘DONE!’ Kristen quickly grabbed his hand and shook it.

The lift ride to the first floor seemed to take an age. Simon and Claudie stood in silence, the space between his shoulder and her shoulder half of what it had been on their lift ride down a few hours before.

Claudie hunted desperately for something to say; something to put him at his ease, but the only thought spiralling around her brain was that Simon’s face had flushed to the colour of a ripe strawberry. She’d never seen a man blush before, and it was peculiarly attractive.

‘It’s only an hour to breakfast,’ Simon said as the lift door opened. ‘Do you still want to meet at a quarter to eight?’

‘Maybe we should make it quarter
past?
’

He nodded and smiled, and Claudie watched as he opened the door to his room and disappeared.

She bit her lip and found that she was frowning, which annoyed her. What on earth did she have to frown about? A man had just declared his love for her. Was that really a frowning matter?

She opened the door and stepped into her room. Her bedside lamp was still on and, as she walked in, she saw five little faces peering up at her from her dressing table. It looked as if the angels had been waiting up for her like anxious parents.

‘Guess who hasn’t had much sleep tonight?’ Lily teased.

‘Where
have
you been?’ Mary asked. ‘We got worried when we realized you’d gone out in the middle of the night.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,’ Claudie said, flopping down on the bed. And then she laughed. ‘You look like a jury waiting to pass sentence.’

Jalisa stepped forward a little. ‘It’s funny you should say that.’ She looked round and nodded to Mr Woo. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her?’ she whispered.

Mr Woo shook his head. ‘Jalisa - her job.’

‘Yes,’ Bert said, sticking up for Mr Woo for once, ‘you’re so good at these sort of things.’

Claudie rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly. ‘Tell me what?’

Jalisa cleared her throat. ‘Claudie -’

‘Yes, Jalisa.’

‘We’ve been having a little chat.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Yes. And we’ve all come to the conclusion that Simon is rather a nice young man.’

‘Oh, you have, have you?’ Claudie didn’t want to get angry with them, but she didn’t like the idea that they’d been discussing her and Simon behind her back.

‘It’s all part of our job, you see,’ Bert chipped in. ‘To help you on your way.’

‘We make sure you okay,’ Mr Woo said.

‘When the time comes for what?’

Jalisa looked back at the others and then turned to Claudie. ‘When we have to leave you.’

Claudie barely moved. Had she heard them right? ‘Leave me?’

‘We can’t stay forever,’ Jalisa said gently. ‘You remember what we talked about? RTMO boxes and the like?’

‘I know. It’s just, I thought you’d be around a little longer than
this
.’

Mary stepped forward and linked arms with Jalisa. ‘We’re as surprised as you are, Claudie. But just look how far you’ve come since we arrived.’

‘Paris isn’t
that
far.’

‘Claudie!’ Jalisa chided. ‘That’s not what Mary meant.’

‘I know,’ Claudie sighed, suddenly visualising the angels in a meeting room in heaven, drawing up bar charts and measuring her grief.

‘I think she’s definitely ready now,’ Jalisa might say. ‘It’s time we moved on and left her to face the world on her own.’

‘This table shows how much she’s improved since we arrived,’ Bert might agree.

‘It’s the herbs,’ Mr Woo would probably add.

Claudie shrugged, feeling helpless and hopeless. ‘But this is so
soon!
’ she said.

‘We know,’ Jalisa agreed. ‘But you must feel positive about that.’

Claudie swallowed hard, as if she were having trouble digesting their words. ‘But I can’t see what’s changed since you arrived. I mean, a little time has passed, but have I really changed that much?’

The angels gave her a beautiful group smile.

‘You can’t see what’s under your own nose,’ Lily tutted.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What exactly happened tonight?’ Lily asked.