The camera guy jumped a mile and backed off quickly enough as Jonno turned towards the club house, he’d been given very specific instructions; he was here to observe only, he was not to intrude. He hadn’t been told exactly what he could and could not film though, so he’d been making sure that he covered all bases, where his job was concerned he liked to be thorough.
Jonno noticed the speed with which the camera man moved, he was light on his feet as well as doggedly determined he thought. The charity had pulled in some big names for this campaign, he wondered what else the guy had worked on and made a mental note to find out, he didn’t fit the same mould as the run-of-the-mill amateur photographers that the airfield usually attracted.
The producer, camera man, technicians and crew had all turned up early today and they’d been tailing his every move since the second he’d pulled into the car park. One or other of them was constantly in his face or under his feet which meant that his patience was stretched taut as a bow string. A row with the clothing designer within minutes of his arrival had set the tone for the day. He’d failed to convince him to alter one inch of the highly unsuitable clothing that the willing band of recruits had been issued with, so he’d discussed the safety implications of the design with the marketing director and lost that argument too. Now they were half an hour behind schedule because of Crystal’s tardiness, it was not good enough.
He narrowed his eyes as he caught up with Crystal. “You’re jumping in the original kit,” he advised her, as he retrieved the luminous orange silk abomination from a tote bag which he’d been carrying over his shoulder and thrust it in her direction. “Just make sure you have reinforced knickers on underneath,” he taunted as he followed her into the ladies changing room, hefting her holdall with him as he went.
Crystal looked pointedly at the sign on the locker room door and pinned him with a challenging stare but she didn’t object, instead she held the flimsy fabric aloft and shivered, she’d catch her death out there in that. “I thought they were going to redesign this, in something more substantial? Heavy duty fabric, you said?” she asked, unwisely. “I didn’t pack for this!” she howled, as she held the handful of delicate pure silk material aloft and waved it provocatively in his direction.
Jonno’s eyes flashed and he let out a pent up breath. It wasn’t Crystal’s fault that they were using sub-standard kit, and it wasn’t her fault either that the entire camera crew had been here since first light and were driving him nuts, but she was late, very late, and they’d all been warned time and again, to arrive promptly today. He was just spoiling for a fight, but she’d not been instrumental in the goings-on around here and he knew that he needed to reign in his temper and get her up into the air safely.
Outside in the hallway the camera crew skittered to a halt on the other side of the locker room door, the sound technician turned up the settings on the sensitive recording equipment and gave thumbs up, every word was now clearly audible to the whole crew.
“Look Crystal,” Jonno replied wearily, “I tried to get the gear changed, I really did.”
Crystal turned clear green eyes, fringed with unnaturally dark lustrous lashes in his direction. “And?” she asked, as she shucked out of her jeans.
Jonno copped an eyeful of her favourite ‘whinnie-the-pooh’ thong, and belatedly remembered his manners, turning his back to afford her some privacy. That was not what he would call substantial underwear, he realised and reluctantly wondered what else she’d got on, under her top.
“And, you’re jumping in the bright orange silk,” he stated, unnecessarily. “So, have you still got my tee shirt? Coz you’re going to need it under that suit if you’re wearing the same underwear today as the last time you tried that suit on.” He added.
Crystal frowned, blast, she’d forgotten about that. She rummaged in her bag and fished out his freshly laundered top and brandished it in his direction. “I know I’ve been over here since then,” she contradicted, “but thanks for the loan of the top anyway, I just forgot to bring it back earlier, that’s all. Do you want it back right now, or shall I just wear it again today then?” she asked.
The sound technician elbowed the cameraman in the ribs as they registered the personal conversation, it sounded like there was something going on. The cameraman raised an eyebrow in response and leered back at his colleague.
In the changing room Jonno shook his head in disbelief. “You really are the limit, Crystal, you know that, don’t you?” he asked ruefully as his voice betrayed a familiarity that he just couldn’t hide, not many people would dare bait him in the mood he was in today, but Crystal had no such qualms. “Now, come on, get your arse in gear, before I really do something I’ll regret,” he teased as he waited for her to make herself decent, his voice dropped an octave and he felt his pulse raise a notch.
He bit his lip; at least she’d improved his mood, even if she’d now given him something else to think about, something that wasn’t in the instruction manual at all. Or perhaps it was, he amended, in his own manual that was; in big black warning letters, under the heading ‘professional conduct’.
Crystal turned at exactly the same moment that Jonno moved forwards to attach the last of the decorative straps to her base-wear and they collided torso to torso. Neither stepped away.
Crystal swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she offered as she looked into a face that had softened in understanding. “I guess you’ve got enough on your plate today already, what with the camera crew and everything?” she prompted.
“You could say that,” he owned, then, “me too, I’m not really mad at you, you know,” he breathed, softly.
In the hallway outside, one the junior technicians jostled against his colleague trying to get nearer to the microphone to hear what was going on and his workmate dropped the can of soft drink that he was holding onto the floor with a resounding thud. The noise reverberated along the corridor with a violent crack and Jonno and Crystal sprang apart in the changing room as if bitten, both flushing guiltily.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” Jonno declared loudly as he swung around, giving Crystal the time and room to regain her composure. “The rest of the kit is on the lorry beside the apron, everyone else is already in their safety gear and ready to jump. Oh, and I nearly forgot, what I followed you in here to tell you is that the large fancy chutes that we were intending to use today have not been printed with the charity logo yet, some hold up or other with the promotional people, we’re using the smaller training chutes out there, the ones we discussed on your first lesson, you know all about them, we went over it in detail?” he advised as he switched back into ‘instructor’ mode.
He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that she’d been listening, and stared down into troubled eyes that had clouded with indecision.
“Just grab the steering handles and direct the canopy, the way you have been practising for the past couple of weeks Crystal. You’ll be fine,” he reassured her, in a voice that had taken on the tone of an adult crooning to a baby. Damn, now he’d panicked her, she looked like she was about to cry.
“B-b-but... I don’t know anything about the other chutes!” Crystal wailed. “What d’you mean other chutes, what other chutes? How can there be more than one parachute, don’t do this to me, don’t send me out there, don’t do it Jonno, pleee…ase Jonno, I can’t… I can’t,” she howled.
The sound technician in the hallway rolled his eyes and turned down the dial on the sensitive recording equipment, with the noise Crystal was making they would be able to hear her screams on the other side of the airfield. He grinned and gave the thumbs up to the cameraman who was standing beside him, still filming the closed door to the ladies changing room. The editor would be pleased he thought, this was going to make good TV viewing.
Jazz frowned as he threw the last of his milk and cereal into the sink and pressed the button on the garbage disposal, he would have to make the journey to the airfield in the Land Rover now, since Crystal had
stolen the Aston and gone haring off as if the hounds-of-hell were on her tail before he’d even stepped out of the shower this morning. He glanced at his watch. He knew that there were several pre-flight checks to be completed before they took off, so he had at least half an hour longer than Crystal if he wanted to arrive at the airfield and still see her jump.
She’d been unusually reticent when he’d tried to engage her in conversation about the charity event lately and he still didn’t really know why she agreed to do the jump at all. The few times that he’d been on an aeroplane with her, she’d been so terrified that she’d needed sedation to even make it as far as the plane.
That guy Jonno had seemed very calm and unflappable though, if a bit over-enamoured with Crystal, but he’d keep her safe enough, he supposed.
He was just about to leave the house when the home telephone began to ring. He almost refused to answer it, then thought better of it and grasped the instrument on the third ring.
“Silver!” he barked.
“Hello, Mr Reginald?” a voice asked, tentatively.
“Reginald? Who is this?” he demanded, he didn’t have time for this now, he was late already and if he missed this jump he’d get shot. “Where did you get this number?” He asked as he ran through possibilities in his brain.
“Oh, um, er. Wrong number, I think,” the caller wavered. “Sorry to bother you Sir.” And with that the line went dead as the caller hung up.
“What the hell?” Jazz growled as he thrust the handset back on the cradle, another reporter, or someone selling something he didn’t want? He used the alias often, if he was dealing with people he didn’t know, but it never ceased to amaze him how many companies sold on the personal details of their clients to third parties these days. It was truly shocking behaviour.
He thought no more about it, as he retrieved the keys to the Land Rover and grabbed his leather jacket from the stand in the hallway on his way out of the door, it would take him longer than usual to make the airfield today in that contraption, he thought, as he secured the house and unlocked the driver’s door .
Chapter
10
A TEMPORARY REPPRIEVE
Crystal was standing on one foot and using the other one to support the brush handle that she’d used as a make-shift prop to hold open the lid of the fish tank. She was cleaning the inside of the glass herself rather than wait for the routine service appointment next week. The fish didn’t like the noisy suction tube or tank cleaner that the professionals used, and after a cursory interest in her and the environmentally friendly lime green squeegee that she’d chosen especially for the task they were studiously ignoring her.
One of the tiniest electric blue ones swam over to nuzzle experimentally at the plastic support on the handle of the squeegee, they seemed to be the most inquisitive and Crystal watched it for a second or two, admiring the way that the sheen of the scales caught the light. The little creature was impervious to her presence and totally absorbed in its own task, she pictured the pile of design work languishing in her briefcase as yet untouched and wondered if a bright strip of luminescent colour could be used to highlight the storage bag on her new tent design. It would help to catch the attention of the customer and help to make the product more saleable too. If the customer needed to erect or dismantle the tent in poor light, it would make the trickier bits easier to see as well, it may be a helpful design feature too. She thought back to her own camping trips, she’d been caught out more than one once, trying to put a tent up in the dark; the idea had merit.
She scratched the tip of her nose with the dry end of the squeegee mop and smiled, she had a bit of a love-hate thing going on here with the fish, they were pretty and the bubbling water was soothing in a Zen-like oasis of calm kind of thing but they were also high maintenance and an ungrateful lot. More trouble than they were worth in truth. She took her eyes off the tank for an instant and peered at her watch, Phil and Lolly would be onboard the aeroplane by now, circling high above London and heading out over the Kent countryside towards France.
She felt happier since she and Phil had talked, really talked. They had managed to put aside the past and get down to the issues that truly affected them both and their lives today. The conversation had been short but pertinent and they’d analysed the past, present and the future without her howling at him like a harridan, after all.
Lolly had finally been released from hospital several weeks after Easter and once she was passed medically fit to travel, Phil had swiftly arranged to take her back to LA with him. His reaction when he’d witnessed her comatose and frail condition in the hospital bed and his unexpectedly chivalrous behaviour towards her was still a complete anathema to him, but it had drawn his life with Olivia into sharp relief. He’d listened to the advice that the medical people had to offer him, taken his responsibilities, more life changing than he could ever have imagined, very seriously and believed that this single selfless act on his part would draw their previously fractured and disparate lives together again and provide the basis for a whole new future. He was prepared, he said, to forge a new and unshakeable bond, with her cousin. When Olivia was ready, they would be married, he vowed.
Crystal wasn’t fully convinced, it seemed like a bit of a knee-jerk reaction and possibly fashioned more from misplaced guilt than true affection, but she didn’t push the issue in case he changed his mind. The new meek and mild Phil was a bit of a disturbing revelation, she’d have lain odds that he didn’t have a benevolent bone in his body prior to the incident in the ‘Dog and Duck’. She’d never been under any form of illusion where Phil was concerned, clearly Phil thought about Phil first, plain and simple. When provoked he was both persuasive and engaging, with lax morals and a wilful charm usually concealed behind a sensual façade that was hard to resist. If you were brave enough to drill down though, tempted to expose his private innermost core, he was dangerously combustible, downright unpredictable and at times icily inflexible.
She’d touched upon that region fearlessly, provoked his ire and still bore the scars to prove it, but her own ‘raison d’etre’ was suffering from a totally different quarter right now. Her cousin Olivia had a form of amnesia which saw her unable to recollect anything that had happened in the three months since she and Phil had first come back to England, long before he and Crystal had tempted fate and joined together in their sinful and rampant act of infidelity.
Which left her in a delicate predicament, she knew that Olivia had another lover, another life beckoning, one that she’d been keen to get on with too, but she had no idea whom her cousin had been dating or how serious it had been. Her phone was nowhere to be found, and to her knowledge was unlikely to offer any clues anyway, as Olivia rarely carried it with her, let alone had any idea how to use it, and as for Phil, what was going on inside his head? Would he really succeed in repairing the problems in his relationship with Olivia? She had no idea what was the best for either of them and couldn’t separate her own feelings either, for that matter. It did put Phil well and truly off-limits though.
She’d eventually voiced her concerns to one of the medical staff as she tried to work out what to do, omitting her own juicy involvement in the unfortunate scenario of course, and the nurse had assured her that there was every possibility that Olivia would make a full recovery, in time, though she had cautioned that if they tried to force the issue right now by taking away everything that was familiar to her and making her face up to a quite different reality than the one she remembered it might prove catastrophic in her current fragile state of mind.
And so Phil and Olivia had boarded the plane for LA today and she’d stood quietly by and watched them depart, without a word.
Surprisingly, even Saskia had rallied around, once she’d found out about Lolly. She’d toned down some of her more outrageous behaviour, directed her own PR professionally for the first time in her entire life and offered to support them both.
Crystal felt vaguely adrift as she imagined them both
flying off together today, a secure and cohesive unit ready to face the future, together. There was a delicate and unstable status quo between herself and Phil now and Crystal knew that she’d been given a second chance to straighten out her life with Jazz, but what sort of future would she face herself?
As she scrubbed away at the vile green goo which had adhered itself to the inside of the fish tank she recognised that she’d made some truly horrendous decisions in her personal life over the past few months. She’d shied away from serious flaws in her relationship with Jazz and she’d been too cowardly to attack the issues at the heart of the problem head-on. Some of the responsibility for this mess was hers alone.
Despite her most vigorous efforts, the slimy stuff on the tank was stuck fast. It looked as bad now as it had when she’d first started. Reluctantly she dropped the lid of the tank back into place and replaced the broom in the cupboard. She’d make a hot mug of coffee while she worked out what to do next, she thought. The wedding arrangements had moved rapidly up the agenda in the last week or so, and as if on cue her phone rang again, for the third time in as many minutes.
“And another thing,” Saskia intoned, without even bothering with the pleasantries. “I’ve changed my mind on the flowers again.”
Crystal’s pulse jumped, despite the calming influence of the fish. “Saskia,” she acknowledged patiently, then, “which flowers? Tabletop displays, church, flower-girls or your bridal bouquet?”
“Neither, the bouquet for the hairdresser,” Saskia asserted.
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