Party Girl at Heart

by Karen Elaine Campbell

  Surprisingly, there wasn’t a soul in the reception area as she waltzed in through the swing doors at the front of the multi-purpose shack which served as tea room, entrance hall and office, all at the same time.

  “They’re all gone through already, Ma’am,” a tiny wizened little old man called out from his place in a corner of the tea room, where he was sitting all scrunched up on the end of a shabby looking overstuffed sofa. He glanced quizzically at her jumper, jeans and boots. “You’re late,” he added, as an afterthought, then, “You jumping like that? Where’s your stuff?”

  “Um, yes?” Crystal answered, wondering exactly who he was.

  “Well hurry on up then gal, don’t keep Jonno waiting, he’ll have your hide for garters, he will. Him likes his trainees to be punctual too, him do,” he added, helpfully, as he returned to his newspaper and the rapidly cooling breakfast of fried eggs and bacon. “Through that door there, Doll, that’s it,” he cajoled, when Crystal looked like she might turn tail and make a run for it.

  Reluctantly, she pushed her way in through the door indicated and discovered the two teenagers and the sports-car-driving instructor already in residence, along with the little old lady and three other men. One man from the group of three disengaged himself from the throng and introduced himself and the other guy as Dex and Jonno respectively, pointing to the name badges sewn onto their flying suits. He went on to encourage Crystal to introduce herself to the rest of the people on the course, warning her that there would be a fair bit of paperwork to complete, questionnaires and legal stuff mostly. Apart from teasing her about her footwear and her timekeeping, he seemed friendly enough. Some of her anxiety began to dissipate as someone found her a cup of coffee and a clipboard and pen and the instructors began to run through a potted history of the airfield, previous flying experiences and some of the formalities regarding health and safety and other regulations.

  Once the meet and greet session was over, the whole group moved off towards the hangers to view the aircraft and that’s where Crystal’s problems really began. She almost cried out in horror when she saw the plane for the first time. That tiny, flimsy scrap of metal didn’t look big enough to make it off the ground, let alone carry seven of them and their gear and the two instructors. She wanted to go home.

  Jonno was standing right beside her as Dex gave the briefing. He recognised the look of complete terror that crossed her face as she took in her first glimpse of the plane.

  “You fly before?” he asked.

  Crystal gulped. “Ye-es. Big aeroplanes, Boeings, Jumbo-jets, ‘proper’ large aircraft, you know, ‘real’ aeroplanes. Can that thing fly?” she asked, unable to avoid the revealing hint of panic in her voice.

  Jonno grinned, and she noticed what even white teeth he had. He was sexy in a brash, northern way, just as Babs had said. He had a thick heavy accent, but she couldn’t place it, possibly Midlands-based, she wasn’t very good at regional dialects. He wasn’t overly tall, but he was wiry and compact, he looked strong, she thought. When she looked at him, really looked at him, he had a square jaw-line and dark brows over mischievous warm brown eyes. His expression was confident and calm, she’d trust him in a crisis, she realised, she’d trust him with her life, she recognised; and she didn’t even know him.

  He conducted his own appraisal, he’d seen her type before too; spoiled, pampered and sexy. Far too sexy for her own good, she’d be the rogue element in this class, he thought. He made a mental note to stay close to this one, it was his job to assess people on the spot, work out what made certain people tick and gauge the dangers that various individuals presented. This was a short course, with civilians, no service personnel in sight on this jump. You knew where you were with the military, they recognised your authority and they reacted predictably, if you said jump, they jumped, more or less. Teaching civilians was less structured, more of a challenge. For a start, they were unpredictable and scatty, sometimes downright dangerous, but it came with the territory and made the job worthwhile. Barbie here, would forget her harness, tie it up all wrong and dive out of the plane backwards, unless he kept a close eye on her and made sure that she knew what she was doing. He’d not lost a trainee yet, and he had no intention of starting with this one.

  “She’ll carry ten of us safely, and the crew. Don’t worry about the plane, ma’am, she’s safe as houses, she is.” He eyed her speculatively. “So why did you sign up for the jump then?”

  Crystal wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t, more like press-ganged, if I’m honest. My friend caught me at a weak moment,” she owned.

  He raised an eye-brow. There was a double-entendre there, but he didn’t really know her well enough to voice it. He generally adopted a cocky, self-assured persona around the ladies, but there was something about Barbie here, that made him feel a bit more reticent. He didn’t like it and he couldn’t put his finger on why it was, but he wasn’t keen to tangle with this one, not in the usual way, anyhow. He glanced at her name tag, pinned securely to her favourite jumper, ‘Crystal’. That figured.

  “I see, Crystal,” he peeled his eyes away from her breasts, tucked neatly into her pink fluffy top, smooth golden mounds peering out from the low ‘v’ neckline of the sweater, like bare babies heads. He glanced down at his clipboard, more as a distraction than anything else, “so you’re not so keen on jumping then? Most people turn up here declaring that it’s a lifelong ambition, or they’re taking on the challenge for a ‘cause’ or ‘in memory of a loved one?’” he prompted.

  Crystal didn’t want to jump out of anything at all, least of all that tiny little plane, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell the instructor that, he was already watching her like a hawk. Babs would kill her if she got thrown off the course on the first day. She watched him scribble a few words on his clipboard and wondered what he’d written. He had nice hands, she noticed. Strong capable hands, with short, neat cut finger nails and well-shaped fingers. He looked at her over the top of the clipboard and flicked the pen shut. “So, how much of the briefing have you heard then Crystal,” he asked. “What height are we going to be jumping at?”

  Crystal wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know,” she declared baldly; she eyed him from under her lashes. “Some flying instructor has been rabbiting away in my ear-hole and eyeing up my assets, ever since we walked into this hangar, I can’t hear a word that Dex over there is saying,” she answered cheekily, flicking her head towards the other instructor and finally registering that he’d actually stopped talking and was looking pointedly in their direction.

  All heads swivelled in unison, and Crystal had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d failed some test or other. It looked like everyone was waiting for her to answer.

  Sassy too, Jonno thought. He smirked and decided to put her out of her misery, raising a hand to his ear he called out, “we can’t hear you very well over here Dex, I think Crystal may have missed out on a few details. Don’t worry, I’ll fill her in on the info, you carry on with the others and we’ll catch you up in a moment.” He eyed her speculatively, just as he’d thought; smart arsed and smart mouthed, also cute and trouble with a capital ‘T’.

  Crystal wondered what she’d done to warrant such personal attention so early on in the course, as Jonno proceeded to take her through all of the equipment in minute detail on a one-to-one basis. Surely she should be following on, over there with the others by now? She tried her best to listen and pay attention to everything that he said, especially the bit about the Single Action Canopy Release Emergency Device, (abbreviation S.A.C.R.E.D.), that seemed very important and he went over it a couple of times, to make sure that she’d taken in the finer details. She could actually see the others practising jumping about on a kind of a swing like device, that looked like much more fun than the emergency drill and techno mumbo jumbo that Jonno was doing his best to instil into her.

  He noticed her looking longingly at the other candidates, and did his best to pull her attention back to the task in hand.
“Don’t worry Crystal, you’ll get a chance to use the flight swings later.” He looked back at the sheaf of papers that were attached to the clip board, rifling through them. “By the looks of these notes, all of the others have done at least one of these jumps before, so they have been fast-tracked through some of the procedures and will have a shorter briefing later, that’s why you’re over here with me going through everything very carefully in minute detail. The charity have specified that you all have a couple of extra lessons compared to the normal routine, they don’t want anything going wrong, this is a very high-profile jump. You have more sessions booked than the rest of the group, as you haven’t jumped before, then there will be a couple of practise runs before the big day and you will be followed by a press photographer for the final part of the training to gain maximum publicity for the charity.” He noticed that Crystal seemed to blanch at the mention of the practise jumps: “Are you nervous about this Crystal?” he asked, pointedly.

  Crystal took a deep breath, and her chin came up, “No-o,” she whispered.

  More like terrified, he thought, but he kept the observation to himself.

  Crystal didn’t catch up with the rest of the group until it was almost time to go home. There were not many spare seats left in the make-shift tea shop by the time Jonno finally called an end to her lesson. She marched in through the door and plonked herself down, on the end of the first bench that she came to, next to the elderly lady. What was her name? Ethel, Eldred, Ermintrude? She couldn’t remember.

  “Hi, I’m Crystal.” She introduced herself.

  “Eliza, Lizzie for short,” the lady responded, indicating herself. “He likes you, that dishy looking instructor does,” she commented, as Crystal helped herself to a slice of toast and cup of tea from the pot.

  “Really?” Crystal replied. “You didn’t hear the names that he called me when I couldn’t remember the correct drill for the compulsory count.”

  “One thousand, Two thousand, Three thousand check canopy,” parroted the same little old lady confidently, then said, “don’t forget that, dear, it’s very important.”

  “Yes, so I understand,” Crystal replied, sotto-voiced. She also didn’t mention the sparks that seemed to fly between them every time she caught his eyes on her. She really should have worn a larger jumper or more suitable underwear she realised, this top seemed to have shrunk in the wash since the last time she’d worn it and now it fit her curves very snugly indeed. Not a lot was left to the imagination, which was probably why Jonno seemed to be having such trouble keeping his eyes on his note pad and away from her cleavage. The worst thing was, it was flattering, in a very obvious, testosterone-fuelled kind of a way. Jazz was far too refined to ogle her in public and now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been aware of him in quite the same way that she was aware of Jonno, either.

  It was all animal magnetism and blustering macho-ism anyhow, she knew that, but it made concentration difficult, all the same. Why did life have to be so difficult? The last thing she needed was any further complications in her personal life, she reminded herself forcefully. The debacle with Phil still sat heavily on her conscience, she’d been awkward and off balance with Jazz for almost two weeks now and he was beginning to notice. She had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this current situation though; she couldn’t avoid her boyfriend forever.

  The common sense approach didn’t last long and it didn’t keep her from day-dreaming about Jonno either, as she drove the Land Rover home later at a much more sedate pace than she’d arrived. He was a very exacting taskmaster and an extremely thorough teacher; he’d not left anything to chance. He’d also tested her on everything she’d learned five times over. When she’d snapped at him grumpily, when he’d insisted on running through the drill one last time, he’d merely flicked her ear like a child and reminded her that her life might depend on her being able to recall the correct sequence of events, some day, and told her to start again, from the top, for her cheek.

  No matter how much she provoked him, he remained cool and in control, apart from the knowing expression in the eyes, but then that was her own fault for tuning up half-dressed, she supposed. She had two more half-day lessons to get in before their first ‘jump’ as a group at Easter, so he’d scheduled a private lesson next week for the ‘practical’ flight swing exercises and the PLF (parachute landing fall) drill, and then another short session for the weekend after, for the lessons on emergencies with everyone else as well.

  The weather had improved considerably since the cold and damp of the early morning, and as she drove through the ambient Wiltshire countryside she noticed a hawk circling high up overhead, wings outstretched lazing on a current of warm early afternoon air. It was a beautiful day, and she took a few moments to appreciate the simple pleasures of Southern England in the spring-time, luxuriant green grass, tiny violets dotted in clumps along the verges, nestling up under the hedges which bordered the road and sheltered from the worst of the malevolent early April squalls.

  She wondered what kind of flowers Saskia had in mind for the wedding, a hand-gathered hand-tied bunch of local flowers, instead of the traditional and more formal bridal bouquet, might appeal to the American guests in particular. She wondered what kinds of flowers grew wild in California, and realised that she had no idea. Very different to the flowers here, she decided. She racked her brains, wondering what she was likely to find in the English hedgerow in September; rosehips, elderberries, blackberries, quite a lot of berries, from limited knowledge, but what about flowers? Lavender? Was that a herb, or a flower? Much more widely a French plant than a native English one, she mused, but very nicely perfumed and beautiful colours, it might be a good start point, she thought it would be a good idea to do a bit of investigation along those lines, it may just pay off.

  Saskia and Jeremy were due to fly in for the first reading of the banns around Easter time, they had needed to work around Saskia’s tour date schedule to make sure that they attended at least one of the readings, she could have a sample of similar flowers ready for Saskia to see by then, if she got a move on with the arrangements.

  She’d moved on from the wedding and flowers and was back to wondering about the private lesson part, as she negotiated the driveway. With the memory of her disgraceful behaviour with Phil at the front of her mind, she knew that she must be on her guard with Jonno, too. She was clearly in the middle of some early mid-life-crisis or other and couldn’t risk another attack of rampaging hormones spiralling out of control; there was no telling where it might all end.

  As to Jazz, she was no nearer to finding out what he was up to with Verity either. It was no excuse for her behaviour, but she did know that he was up to something fishy. He’d locked the trunk now and removed the key too, she knew because she’d tried the lid just the other day and it wouldn’t budge an inch.

  Chapter

  6

  THE MOOD OF SEDUCTION

  At the house on the green, Imogen was inconsolable.

  It had taken two more weeks of careful plotting and several more magazines of dubious design, but she’d finally done it, she’d actually plucked up enough courage to put her plan to seduce her husband into action. She’d spent ages in the kitchen making a special dinner, lit the candles in the dining room, laid the table properly and even scented the white, pure cotton sheets on their big double bed with lavender water, in anticipation of her great romantic love-fest. She’d cleaned the bathroom until it shone and laid out two brand new pure white bathrobes in the dressing room, ready to see her boldest, bravest, most daring plan through to fruition.

  By six p.m. every inch of her slender frame had been cleaned, primped, perfumed and flossed and she’d even shimmied into some outrageously expensive new pure white lingerie, before returning to the kitchen to await her husband’s arrival.

  As the hands on the kitchen clock slid down towards the half-hour, she poured herself a small tumbler of gin and tonic to set
tle her nerves, and struck a casual but relaxed pose beside the kitchen counter top, she didn’t want to look like she’d been trying too hard after all. Half an hour later she turned the oven down a few notches to prevent the food from burning and poured another glass; that drink hadn’t lasted long either and she’d become restless, pottering through to the hallway to phone the office to find out how much longer Giles might be. When the call immediately clicked over to answer-phone, she guessed that her husband was already on his way home in the car.

  Bored with prancing around in the kitchen, she moved through to the front room and draped herself artfully over the pale cream couch, she had a good view of the driveway and the green from here and should get a clear view of the car as it approached the house, she decided. An hour later, she was still waiting. He must be home soon; she reasoned as she peered through the front room windows, waiting on baited breath for the flash of the headlights as the car rounded the green. Yet another half an hour later she’d gone for a further re-fill of her glass, switching to one of the large cut-glass crystal tumblers from the drinks trolley in the hallway as she tottered back to the kitchen to peer at the food in the oven, now slightly crinkled up at the edges and beginning to desiccate in the dish. She resolutely returned to the dining room and amused herself by wielding a breadstick like a pen and spelling out baby names in the guacamole as she sat alone at the dining room table and watched the wax candles melt away to nothingness. Eventually, as the last candle spluttered and faded into oblivion, she finally turned the oven off and deposited the charred remains of her romantic dinner into the shiny chrome pedal bin in the kitchen.