Luke was the oldest, he’d just started school. “Mum, Mum, Aunty Crystal is kissing that man in the middle of the airfield,” he declared loudly. Then, “Why is she doing that, Mummy? Why?” he asked, as he looked from Ruth to Mark and over at Jazz, as he attempted to weigh up the implications of a clearly adult situation.
Ruth looked askance at Mark. “She’s your sister, not mine,” she said, as if that had anything to do with the question.
Mark looked dumbfounded.
“Because her chute got a bit stuck, Luke,” Jazz answered instead. “He’s probably just helping her fix things, now she’s landed,” Jazz explained as Hetty’s eyebrows hit her hairline.
“Stop gawping at the airfield and come and get some of this chocolate your mum’s got on offer, child. I don’t think it’s the type of deal that is likely to be repeated again anytime soon,” Jazz continued, with the slightest hint of humour in his voice; he’d never known Ruth offer the children even so much as a bite of sinful chocolate in all the time he’d known her. Even from five thousand feet Crystal had managed to corrupt not only the flying instructor but her straight laced sister-in-law as well, he conceded, which was no mean feat.
The two on the airfield finally pulled apart, and Jazz gave a heavy sigh. The day had started out so well for him today, as well. He’d driven up to London at breakneck speed earlier to finally get his hands on those incriminating photos, now that Bertie had actually secured them. They were firmly in his own possession, safely tucked away inside his jacket, nestling in the inside pocket, nearest to his chest. He’d been assured that they were the originals and there were no other copies, anywhere. He’d had his life under control again there for a few hours, all loose ends firmly tied up, and now this, with Crystal.
He could hardly march over there and deck the guy, much as he wanted to, not with the press, the family and all their neighbours watching so avidly. So much for surprising Crystal by turning up at the airfield today, he though ruefully, she really did know how to make a scene. He cast an eye over the expressions mirrored on the faces of her friends and relatives, they’d got more than they bargained for today, as well, by the look of it.
“Tell Crystal I’ll see her at home,” he called to Hetty, as he turned on his heel and headed for the Land Rover. That was one young lady who had some explaining to do later, but not here and not now where they had an audience. What he had to say to Crystal most certainly need to be said in private, and the sooner they sorted this out, the better. He’d neglected his girl-friend for far too long.
As he stalked off towards the car park he thought he heard Imogen telling Mark that his sister was a slut and a harlot and he smiled despite his ire; not quite the words he’d have used, but in his opinion they were some of Crystal’s finest qualities, not that he could expect his prim sister to even begin to comprehend the siren’s allure that such a seductive and complex woman held for the male of the species. He himself was drawn to Crystal’s innate ability to almost draw in her prey at will. He had enough darker personality flaws himself to acknowledge her wilful and careless disregard as she left lesser mortals floundering in her wake. In his mind’s eye, Crystal was the obverse to his reverse; they were the flip side of the same coin.
The airfield was busy and it took him a while to make his way over to where he’d left the tatty old Land Rover, as he slipped the keys into the ignition and fired up the battered old beast he caught sight of Jonno, walking purposefully towards him and let out a low tuneless whistle. He watched the instructor in his rear-view mirror for a moment and then reluctantly killed the engine, he had more bottle than he’d given him credit for, he acknowledged. As the younger man drew abreast of the driver’s door he wound down the window. “You’ve got some nerve, showing your face here,” he fired out, giving no quarter.
“Jazz, what can I say?” Jonno offered, as he raised his arms in mute appeal, palms upward. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. Things just spiralled out of control. She has driven me to exasperation and back these past few weeks, I’ve never come closer to hitting a woman in my entire life,” he owned. “I grabbed her in a reflex action, that’s all it was, truly. Then, when I had hold of her, well it was that or, well you know… I didn’t mean anything by it and I’ve already apologised to Crystal. Out there on the airfield… it wasn’t what it seemed. It was just a momentary thing,” he tried to explain, as he ground to a halt, his eyes troubled and expression genuine.
Jazz raised his chin a notch. “Where is she now?” he asked.
“She’s coming back across the airfield, with the others. She’ll be here in a moment. Don’t go, she’ll want to talk to you, she’s mortified,” he added.
“So she should be. And as for you…” Jazz sighed heavily and pinned Jonno with his darkest most mercurial stare, “I realise that it takes two, and there are clearly issues at stake here that Crystal and I need to discuss. In private,” he added heavily. “But you crossed a line there, and you know it.”
Jonno swallowed convulsively, wondering what Jazz was getting at. He could see the muscle twitching, high up on his cheekbone, it wasn’t wise to prolong this conversation any longer than was necessary. He wondered if he was a sprinter or more of a long distance runner, it was hard to tell from this angle.
Jazz drew heavy brows over piercing grey eyes drawn together blackly, as he considered the options, then his expression cleared a little as another thought occurred. “Thank you for bringing her down safely, Jonno,” he offered, sincerely.
Jonno nodded, he didn’t risk saying anything else.
“It looked bad for a moment there,” Jazz conceded. “I really thought you were both in trouble, you gave us all a pretty horrendous fright. I’m not sure how many of the spectators realised it, but I know that you took your own chute in far too close to her, under the circumstances. You took a risk, a calculated risk,” he stated.
Jonno shrugged. “She wasn’t listening to any of my commands, she was panicking, I didn’t have a choice,” He answered truthfully. He held out a hand that was visibly trembling. “Still a bit shaky, myself,” he laughed self-consciously.
“Well, just keep your hands to yourself in future, and off my girlfriend,” Jazz replied gruffly. “Tell Crystal I’ll see her at home. I’m not sure what I might do if I get my hands on her right now,” he added as an aside, “and you, I suggest you bugger off before I change my mind,” he scowled as he reached for the ignition key again. “There’s a cameraman following you still, probably wants to wrap up the story,” he advised as he caught sight of another person in his rear view mirror. “Tell him if my face appears on one millimetre of his film, I’ll sue his arse off,” he advised as he thrust the protesting vehicle into gear and pulled out at point blank range leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
“Who was that, Crystal’s boyfriend?” the cameraman asked hopefully as he attempted to film the departing Land Rover.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Bertie offered, as he leaned out from where he’d been loitering in the shadows beside the main hangar and stepped out into the sunlight right between the two men. I’d keep the focus off the number plate too, if I were you, he advised as he steered the angle of the delicate equipment towards the ground. “He’s an old friend, more of an acquaintance, really,” he advised the younger guy. “You don’t want to mess with that one,” he warned, as the camera man looked like he might object. “Take it from me, if the man says no photography, then that’s what he means. You have more than enough footage for one day, I’d stick with what you’ve got if I were you.”
“What are you doing here?” the younger man asked, as he did a double-take. “I thought you gave all of this up years ago? You working again, Bertie?”
“Nah, looking for my girl-friend, thought she might be around today, but it looks like I’ve missed her,” Bertie answered honestly enough. “You off down the pub for a beer now then? Or have you still got more to do?”
“Nah, it’s a wrap. I’m done now. You buying old m
an?” he asked cheekily.
“Go and get your stuff and find out.” Bertie replied, “How about you Jonno, you coming too?” he asked.
“I’ll catch up with you all later, there’s a bit more I need to do around here first,” Jonno answered as he caught sight of Crystal tentatively making her way across the car park towards the car.
Chapter
12
A SERIOUS CONVERSATION
Jonno pulled up a bar stool and greedily grasped at the cool frosted glass that Dex silently placed in front of him. “Cheers,” he uttered mournfully as he raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply.
As Dex raised his own glass and glanced across at him in an appraising manner, Jonno sighed heavily and held up his free hand like a policeman attempting to halt the flow of traffic. “Just don’t Dex, okay? Don’t,” he instructed, before Dex could say a word.
Dex couldn’t help it, he bit the end of his tongue, held his breath and then in desperation he coughed and raised the glass to his lips, trying to smother his mirth in his beer as a single, dirty smirk escaped and ran riot all over his face. As he ducked back down into his pint again, he ended up breathing in when he should have been breathing out. The coughing and spluttering gave way to gurgling as he turned redder and more flustered by the second.
His antics broke the tense silence and Jonno started laughing, hooting out a mirthless tattoo of frustration and exasperation as he plonked his own pint back down on the table and heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. “Christ, I thought he was going to kill me, you know,” he owned. “At least I waited until the guy was inside the car before I approached him. I figured that I’m probably fitter than he is and he’s quite tall, so by the time he’d struggled out of the car I’d be back across the grass faster than he could catch me,” he laughed.
“City type,” Dex agreed, “but looks like he keeps himself in shape, I bet he works out in the gym. You can’t run for toffee, you idiot, it was a bit of a gambol.” He took a deep pull on his pint, now he’d stopped laughing. “So, what did the big man say, anyhow? I trust he didn’t get out of the car and beat you to a pulp, which is what you deserved, you little runt,” he teased.
Jonno shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “He was pretty decent about the whole thing, really. I like the guy, to tell the truth, I did the first time I met him, which is why I truly do feel bad about what happened, I really do, Dex,” he admitted sincerely.
Dex raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“So, he thanked me actually,” Jonno continued, “in amongst the threats to leave his girl-friend alone. He’s jumped before and he knew how close I’d gone in to yell at her and get her to pull out of that dive she was headed for, so he said thanks for bringing her down safely, like I had any choice in the matter,” he acknowledged. “I’d have gone down trying.” He laughed self-consciously. “You know me!”
“Hmm.” Dex looked serious for a moment. “It’s hairy, isn’t it? I had one do the same to me when I was training to be an instructor, I’ve never forgotten it. Changes you, it does,” he mused. “I ran through the whole thing every time I closed my eyes for weeks. We all know the risks and we mitigate them, every day, but I’m not surprised that you lost it for a bit when you landed there, so don’t beat yourself up about it mate, you’re both alive, that’s what matters.”
Jonno raised an eyebrow and viewed Dex with new eyes. “I’ve known you, what? Getting on for eight years now, how come you’ve never told me that before?” he asked incredulously.
“I’ve never needed to before, have I? You’re one of the most careful, capable and dedicated men I’ve ever been paired with mate, truly. I’ve never worked with a more responsible guy, I guess that after all these years I never really expected you to find yourself in that kind of situation, not now.” He coughed. “As for getting down and dirty with Crystal, now that’s one I could see coming a mile off, but not in the middle of a public demonstration, right in the middle of the airfield!”
Jonno blushed from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. “It’d been brewing for a while. She sure picks her moments,” he owned.
Dex nudged him. “So come on then, spill. What does she kiss like then? Is she all milk and honey, or a bit of forbidden fruit? That’s what I want to know,” he joked.
Jonno raised an eyebrow. “Forbidden all the way mate, that one is definitely forbidden. I thought I had more sense, till she was there, right in front of me and the blood was coursing through my veins,” he shrugged, self-depreciatingly. “Made a bit of a fool of myself, eh?”
Dex scratched at his ear, “No…o, but the film crew sure went off happy. I’m not so sure exactly what the charity are going to make of it though, and that’s not all.” He coughed, unsure of how to proceed.
“What? What could be worse than that?” Jonno asked. “Come on, out with it!” he insisted, as he recognised a rare sign of reticence in Dex’s demeanour.
“You do know who her ‘boyfriend’ is, don’t you?” Dex asked eventually.
Jonno wrinkled his brow. “No. I thought he looked a bit familiar the first time we met, but I’ve only seen the guy once before, for five minutes or so. He’s not a footballer or something big in television, is he?” he asked in a voice filled with dread. “Please tell me I’ve not just snogged a celebrity WAG in full view of the media, please?”
Dex’s lips twitched. “The cameraman I was talking to earlier, well he used to work with one of the boyfriend’s mates, a guy called Bertie? He’s a big-shot newspaper editor this mate is now, on one of the dailies, not sure which one. Anyway, this newspaper guy reckons Jazz is something big in the city, Jazz Silver his name is, does that ring any bells?”
Jonno frowned.
Dex released an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you watch the news?” he asked. “Jazz Silver, Son of Sir Donal Silver, controversial High Court Judge. His dad’s deceased now, but he was an influential man, in his prime.” He waited while Jonno digested this piece of information. “Jazz has a bit of a pedigree, mate, if you know what I mean? He’s always in the news in one way or the other, a regular ‘playboy’ kind of a guy, or he was until he met Crystal, but he’s been keeping his nose clean and has ditched the starlets too, ever since he shacked up with Crystal, or so the word is. He’s turned into the model guy recently and he’s loaded, absolutely loaded mate, plays rough on occasion, too, if you listen to insider gossip. Not one to piss off, I’d say,” he ended seriously.
“And you only think to mention this now, after I’ve snogged his live-in lover and then taken the time to apologise to the guy in person?” Jonno asked, incredulously.
“Only just found out myself mate,” Dex shrugged, “and it’s not my fault that you can’t keep your hormones in check now, is it?” he teased.
Jonno punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Git,” he replied, as he picked his glass back up again and finished the contents on one long draught. “The next round is mine,” he offered, “what do you want?”
Bertie was sitting in the same pub, surrounded by people, and realised that he’d never felt more lonely in his entire life. He’d left countless messages for his girl-friend over the course of the past few weeks, he’d been to the flat she was using in London, and he’d sent dozens of roses to her family home, and still there was no reply. She’d told him that he shouldn’t contact her friends or her family, it was a bit of a delicate situation, so what else was a guy to do?
He knew that he shouldn’t have panicked, when she’d told him that she was pregnant, but her news had caught him completely unawares. She’d just sprung the subject on him, in the middle of a crowded restaurant and expected him to be overjoyed. When he’d sat there, gaping like a fish, and muttered something about his divorce not even being final yet, she’d taken umbrage at his lukewarm reception and stormed off in a huff. And now he couldn’t get her to speak to him. The phone just rang off the hook and then clicked into answerphone, every time. The flat was desert
ed and her things gone.
He stared morosely into his pint and considered his options. He could always come ‘clean’ and tell Jazz what he’d been up to, he’d have some information, or he’d know how to find out, but he was reluctant to call in that favour. He scratched at his groin, it was hot in the pub and he’d not worn this suit in a while, it was highly unsuitable for a hot July afternoon. As to his predicament, he was running out of options and there were ‘complications’ everywhere including some issues that even he was reluctant to rake over. If he brought another person into the equation it might make the situation worse.
At that precise moment the phone began to buzz in his trouser pocket. He leaned back in his seat to make enough room to stuff his right hand into the tight front pocket and squinted at the caller I.D. as he pulled the phone out.
“Jazz, my man. How are you matey?” he asked, as he accepted the call.
“Fine, Bertie, fine,” Jazz replied. “You?”
“Have been better mate, but listen, how can I help you?” Bertie replied, deflecting the question.
“Just thinking about what we were discussing earlier, actually,” Jazz replied. “I ran into a bit bother here, at the airfield today. I think one of the local hacks managed to get a shot of the number plate on the ‘Rover as I left the charity do that Crystal was involved in. No time to go into details, but it would be better if my name and hers didn’t make it into the local rag. Have you still got connections here?”
“Nah, that was years ago,” Bertie replied honestly. “I was at the airfield myself though, I just caught a view of your departing tail lights buddy, I guess you didn’t see me, you were off in a flurry of dust,” he chuckled. “One foot on the accelerator and you turn into Sterling Moss! About the news reporter, don’t worry, I know the guy, taught him almost everything he knows, I bought him a few drinks earlier on your behalf, if you know what I mean?” he replied, as he moved over a bit to allow Babs, the young camera-man and the whole of the production team to slide past into the spare seats opposite, it was standing-room only in the bar today.
Party Girl at Heart Page 19
