Flights of Angels (8 page)

‘Night, Kris.’

Claudie stood at the top of the steps watching as Kristen descended, waiting until she heard her key in the lock. Then she turned and began the ten-minute walk home. Alone. In the dark.

She tried not to look down the myriad alleyways, and avoided eye contact with the shadows. And she didn’t think of Dracula. Too much. But it was at times like this, when she was walking alone at night, or those quiet moments just before she tried to find sanctuary in sleep, when she felt most alone. It was strange, but she hadn’t been aware of it before she met Luke. It wasn’t that she’d handed over her independence when they’d met; she’d never been the sort of woman to be reliant on a man but, when you’d been in a relationship for a while and then it suddenly ended, there was an undeniable void which took the place of somebody looking out for you. Somebody waiting at home for you, to ask you how your day went, to give you a goodnight kiss: these were everyday pleasures that had been ripped away from her.

Walking in the dark now, Claudie felt that the weight of being alone was almost too much too bear. There’d be nobody waiting for her at home. Kristen, at least, had Jimmy. No matter how much she complained about him, he’d still be waiting up, making sure she got home safely, but what did Claudie have to go home to? A few Gene Kelly posters and a bed that was half-empty. She sometimes wondered if it was really worth going home.

Pulling her coat collar snugly against her bare neck, she cast her eyes down the street. A few windows shone yellow and, peeping into one as she walked by, she saw a young couple pulling at a table-sized pizza as they watched TV together. It was just an ordinary domestic scene. There were probably hundreds of couples all over the country sharing pizza at this very moment, and Claudie found it hard not to hate every single one of them. Did they know how lucky they were? Probably not. For a start, this couple were watching the TV when they should have been watching each other. See how his fingers are red with tomato, and how the crust has flaked down the front of her jumper? It was little things like this that you remembered when somebody was no longer there.

Turning away from the window, Claudie headed down the street, bending her head low against the icy wind. Where were her angels when she needed them? Could she call them now for a bit of company? She knew she’d said she wanted to have them at work, but did that preclude them from everywhere else?

She wondered what would happen if she called them.

‘Jalisa?’ she half-whispered into the night. ‘Are you there?’

There was no response, so Claudie quickened her pace and headed home.

As Claudie gazed out of the train window, she thought that the last week had probably been the strangest in her life. Bar one.

Friday had come round so quickly, and it was time for her weekly session in York. But did she have the nerve to tell Dr Lynton about the weird and wonderful things which had been going on on her desk at work? Could she tell him about Jalisa, Lily and Mary, Bert and Mr Woo? Did she have the nerve to say that there were five mad angels occupying her workstation? Would he believe her, or would he call for the men in white coats straight away?

Perhaps, she thought optimistically, his other clients had experienced something similar? For all she knew, it could be a very common phenomenon. There might even be group meetings: Angels Anonymous. Hmm, she thought, perhaps not.

But surely she wasn’t the only one to be visited? Jalisa had said that there was a whole army of angels, ready and waiting to be despatched into flights as soon as they were needed, and Claudie was beginning to wonder how on earth she’d coped before their arrival.

On Wednesday morning, despite just one glass of wine at the restaurant, Claudie had awoken feeling as if King Kong had been jumping up and down on her head. She’d wandered into the office like a zombie and had been greeted by much laughter from the flight.

‘I thought you were meant to look after me,’ she’d complained bitterly.

‘But you must still look after yourself!’ Bert chided. ‘I don’t know. If you drink like a fish-’

‘But I didn’t!’ Claudie complained. ‘I wouldn’t care if I had, but I was very restrained.’

‘You should have taken the day off,’ Mary said.

‘My head feels like a cannonball.’

‘Goodness me!’ Jalisa giggled again. ‘’Fraid that’s not my department. But Mr Woo’s probably got a solution for you. Mr Woo?’ Jalisa called, and he walked out from behind the pile of files Mr Bartholomew had left on her desk.

‘Here, Claudie,’ Mr Woo said shyly, head bent so that he hardly looked at her. ‘Take with little water.’

‘What are they?’

‘Will taste bitter but very good for headache.’

Claudie took the little brown packet from him and peeped inside. The contents looked like fragments of burnt paper. ‘What on earth is it?’

‘You’re probably best not knowing,’ Jalisa pointed out.

‘No! Don’t ever ask when Mr Woo gives out medicine. It’s probably worse than the stuff we used to use in the sixteenth century,’ Mary said.

Claudie had taken it and, as promised, almost spat it out at the first taste. But it had worked miraculously quickly. She’d thought of asking for some for Kristen, who’d looked decidedly ropy that morning but, she supposed, Jalisa wouldn’t allow that.

Then there’d been Bert’s show. Ever since the angels had arrived, Bert had gone on about putting on a show.

‘We not entertaining troops now, stinky bird egg!’ Mr Woo had said.

‘No, we’re entertaining
Claudie
,’ Bert had said graciously, ‘a far more important audience.’

So, somewhere between Claudie’s Rolodex and in tray, Bert had organised a rehearsal. Claudie had been told not to watch but it was rather hard to ignore five little angels singing, dancing and ordering each other around, and it was far more entertaining than Mr Bartholomew’s amendments to the staff regulation handbook.

Claudie couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the scene: Bert taking centre stage in front of her computer whilst Jalisa, Mary and Lily did their chorus-girl bit behind. Poor Mr Woo had looked completely confused by it all and had hovered in the background, a scowl scarring his face.

Claudie felt so lucky to have the angels. They were a brilliant beacon in her dark landscape; they were MGM brought to life and, above all, they were her guardians, in spite Jalisa’s hate of that particular word.

Yes, she thought as the train pulled into York station, there was a lot she could tell Dr Lynton about. But should she? Should she tell him about the fierce argument Bert and Mr Woo had had on Thursday afternoon? Claudie shook her head as she got off the train. What a thing to witness: two grown men, no bigger than a couple of Biros, arguing on her desk. Mary and Lily had tried to break them apart and Jalisa had finally intervened when Mr Woo had called Bert a
stinky bird egg
. Jalisa had sent them back, to a kind of angel detention room, she’d said, but didn’t explain any more than that. It was quite common, she’d assured her.

Claudie grinned at the thought, trying to imagine Bert and Mr Woo sat in a classroom writing lines.
I must not argue on my client’s desk
. But what would Dr Lynton make of it all?

Sitting in his room, seeing his serious face and pen at the ready, she decided against telling him about any of it. Although it did make her wonder what stories he must have heard from his other clients. Was anything beyond the bounds of possibility? And what right did he have to question what he was told?

‘So, Claudie,’ he began in his usual manner, ‘had a good week?’ He always waited for her to speak, never prompting her on anything.

Claudie nodded, looking down and noticing that he had bright green socks on. Most unusual. ‘It’s been an extraordinary week,’ she confessed, without really meaning to. The words just spilled out.

‘Oh?’ Dr Lynton’s white eyebrows shot into his forehead and, for the first time in a long while, he smiled.

Claudie looked on in amazement. This was turning out to be a very odd week indeed.

‘Do go on, Claudie. Tell me about your week.’

‘Okay!’ she said, wondering how she was going to get round this now. If she wasn’t going to tell him about the angels, what else could she possibly tell him about? He wouldn’t be interested in her night out with Kristen and, other than a group of little people taking up residence on her desk, nothing else extraordinary had happened at work. She sifted through her brain as quickly as possible, aware that time was money and she was paying.

‘I was pottering around during lunch early this week and thought I’d pop into the bookshop,’ she began somewhat hopelessly, but thinking it would have to do. ‘It’s old and smelly and the owner’s a complete witch, but I just love browsing round. You never know what you might find. Anyway, I happened to come across this wonderful book.’

‘About?’

Claudie paused. If he was hoping she’d name a title on the reading list he’d presented her with recently, he was going to be disappointed.

‘Judy Garland.’

‘The actress?’

Claudie nodded. Didn’t everyone know who Judy Garland was?

‘I’ve always adored her,’ she went on enthusiastically. ‘Ever since the first time I walked down that yellow brick road with her. So imagine my delight when I found out Luke’s surname was Gale! I couldn’t believe that I was going to be Claudie
Gale
!’

Dr Lynton looked nonplussed.

‘
Dorothy Gale!
’ she stressed, musing on the fact that the ‘P’ in Dr P Lynton might very well stand for ‘philistine’. She made a mental note that she should lend him some of her videos. It would make a pleasant change from him lending her his books.

‘Anyway, I wanted that book but I didn’t have enough money. The old witch always overcharges,’ she said, getting into her stride for recounting her week, ‘and she’d never accept an offer. So I went out to my bank, which is about a five-minute walk there and back and, when I got back to the bookshop, this man was standing there holding my book - reading it as if it was his!’ Claudie’s eyes widened at the memory. ‘I couldn’t believe it.’ She paused, as if replaying the scene.

‘What did you do?’

‘I asked him if he was going to buy it. And he looked at me for what seemed like ages. He had amazing grey eyes - they were so clear and pale - like a Whitby sky in winter.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said that, no, he wasn’t going to buy the book - it was too expensive and handed it to me.’ Claudie smiled at her triumph.

‘Well, this is quite a breakthrough,’ Dr Lynton said at length. ‘And, of course, it’s all perfectly normal.’

‘Is it?’

‘Let me remind you what you said.’ He looked down at his notes. “He had amazing grey eyes - like a Whitby sky in winter”?’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t you see?’ He sat forward in his chair as if he’d made quite an important discovery. ‘You’re beginning to notice other-’

‘No!’ Claudie interrupted, her voice a little terse. ‘Don’t go pinning that one on me. I just made an observation. I do that all the time.’

Dr Lynton flicked through the reporter’s notepad that was Claudie. ‘Not as far as I’ve noticed.’

‘Oh,’ she said quietly.

‘It’s nothing to get upset about.’

‘I’m not upset,’ she said, her voice a perfect monotone.

‘It’s perfectly natural.’

Claudie stared at him. What was he getting at? Sex? Was he accusing her of fancying another man? After so short a time. This was outrageous, and she felt extremely angry with him for even daring to suggest such a thing. That wasn’t what she was paying him for.

‘It’s too soon,’ she said in a very quiet voice. ‘Perhaps it’s natural for some people to fall in love again so quickly, but that won’t happen to me.’

Dr Lynton narrowed his eyes. ‘Claudie, I didn’t say anything about falling in love again. I know how you feel about that. I only mentioned that you noticed someone. Please,’ he said, his voice a little less excitable and a little more gentle now, ‘don’t take it as such a criticism of you.’

But how else was she meant to take it? She felt as if he’d accused her of forgetting Luke, of daring to move on, grow another heart, and learn to live and love again.

She fidgeted in her chair and looked at her watch, squirming when she realised that they weren’t even at the halfway mark. What could she say to fill the time in? She didn’t want to continue with the present line of questioning, that was for sure.

Perhaps she should tell him about the angels as well? Surely the angels would take Dr Lynton’s mind off the subject he’d latched upon with such enthusiasm. But no, she really didn’t want to talk about them. They were, for the moment, her little secret. Her private world. Anyway, perhaps there were rules about telling anyone about them. She’d be best talking it over with Jalisa first.

Dr Lynton cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Claudie, if I upset you.’

She looked across the room at him. He genuinely looked concerned, and she felt bad. He was only trying to help her. Deep down, she knew that. But she also knew that she didn’t feel ready to have that kind of pressure put on her. Not now. Not just yet.

‘I’m sorry I flared up,’ she said.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, giving his second smile of the day. ‘Shall we move on to something else, then? What else have you been doing this week?’

‘Kristen and I went out to dinner and got chucked out of the restaurant,’ Claudie started.

‘You haven’t been out for some time, have you?’

‘That’s what the ang -’ she paused, the cat half out of the bag. ‘That’s what Kristen said.’

‘And you had a good time?’

‘Yes!’ Claudie smiled. ‘I did. Even though I had a terrible hangover from one tiny glass of wine. It was good to get out.’

Dr Lynton stroked his chin, as if thinking of how to phrase what he was about to say. ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘It’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?’

Claudie nodded, her heartbeat accelerating lest he dared to mention anything that might set her off again.

‘These things take time,’ he continued. ‘You know that, don’t you? But you will get your life back. It won’t be the life you had before, but things will get better. You believe that, don’t you?’