Up Up and Away

by Nesta Tuomey

  He smiled at her. ‘Does it suit me?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I’ve never know a Graham before.’ ‘Grame,’ he mocked her slightly. ‘I like the way you say it.’

  His hand was back to stroking hers again but he was forced to release her as the waiter brought the steaming plates of pasta to the table. When they were alone again he said ‘My dear, I’ll be thinking of the way you said my name when I’m far away in Karachi. You have a lovely voice. Has anyone ever told you?’

  Kay ducked her head at the compliment. When she brought her eyes slowly to meet his again, he was regarding her with a tender, bemused look.

  ‘You’re enchanting, do you know that.’

  Suddenly he chuckled, ‘Are you pleased with the effect you’re having on me? I don’t know whether I’m in the air or on the ground when I look at you, my lovely Kitty.’

  When Kay’s blushes died down he said, ‘Crazy about flying, are you? Wait till you get a Rome overnight. You’ll have a marvellous time, splashing in the Trevi fountain, wandering the Via Romana by moonlight.’ He leaned back in his chair and regarded her through lowered lids. ‘What I’d give to be with you. We wouldn’t close an eye all night.’

  Kay didn’t know where to look.

  In an attempt to bring the conversation down to a less intoxicating level, she asked desperately, ‘Do you like flying to the east?’

  ‘Oh it’s only for another few weeks,’ he replied. By which she deducted he was glad it would soon be ending.

  ‘What routes will you be on then?’ she persisted, wondering if she could possibly bear the excitement of bumping into him every other day on UK and European flights and not seeing how she was ever going to stand it if she didn’t.

  ‘I’m going on the Atlantic when I get back,’ he said. ‘I finished training for the Boeings just before the Karachi venture.’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘In fact, that’s what I was doing that day I got my first glorious glimpse of you.’

  So he did remember! Kay’s cheeks went on fire.

  Taking pity on her, he signalled the waiter to bring them the dessert menu.

  Studying it, Kay struggled to regain her composure. ‘I don’t think I have any room left...’ she started to say, then changed her mind and chose a cassata ice-cream.

  As she nibbled it he regarded her with an approving smile as though the sight gave him pleasure, then turning to the waiter said, ‘Just coffee for me. And you can bring the bill.’

  They sped back to Richmond in another London taxi. Kay rested her head on Captain Pender’s shoulder (it was drawn there the second he took his place beside her) and wondered if he would kiss her. When he would do it (if he did it) completely occupied her thoughts on the journey back. But although he had ample opportunity, beyond a murmured, ‘Happy?’ when he positioned her head against him, he did not attempt to touch her. Once she lifted her head thinking he might have fallen asleep but at once his fingers firmly pressed it back again.

  Stumbling stiffly after him on to the pavement, she was surprised to find that they were not at the hotel but at the bottom of the hill leading up to it. She yawned hugely as Captain Pender paid off the driver, then obediently turned with him and walked along the deserted street. On the narrow bridge spanning the river he put his arms around her, and she leaned with him against the stone parapet to gaze down at what must be water flowing below but was difficult to make out in the dim light. Somewhere close at hand a church clock struck two.

  Captain Pender’s face was in shadow as he looked down at her. ‘Kay, my dear,’ he murmured. ‘This has been a delightful evening.’

  Deliberately, he lowered his head and placed his mouth warmly and sensuously over hers, plushly burrowing into her soft underlip in what she could only think of afterwards as a bottomless kiss. Like none she had ever before experienced, the drugging wonder of it left her weak and a little breathless.

  When he finally lifted his head, she gazed up at him hazily, seeing his features only as a pale blur. And then he was kissing her again and the same magic was being re-enacted and she was suspended in dark, fathomless depths each time his mouth descended on hers.

  TWENTY

  Kay was awakened by a discreet tapping on her door next morning. She stared puzzled about the darkened room, then as her breakfast tray was brought in by a young waiter in dark pants and white jacket, she remembered where she was. He swished back the curtains and immediately withdrew.

  With the closing of the door she lay very still, remembering the night before, reliving every moment down by the river and afterwards. She felt again Graham’s lips on hers, his tongue lingering in her mouth and she was filled with a sense of happiness, of well-being. She sat up and hugged her arms to her chest, savouring the moment, wanting to hold on to it as long as she could.

  Then, with a sense of wonder the thought hit her: I’m in love! And she arched her back sensuously, dazzled by the joy of it. Contentedly, she gazed about the lovely room awash with pale spring sunshine, admiring the curtains and matching bedspread in broad leaf pattern, the pale teak furniture with the little luxurious touch of the portable television set high on the wall. Pushing back the coverlet, she hopped on to the soft deep carpet and quickly brought the breakfast tray back to the bed.

  Bacon, sausage and soft fried egg just the way she liked it were revealed when she lifted the silver cover.

  She drank the orange juice thirstily, her throat dry from the central heating and sighed her pleasure as she poured coffee from the small silver pot. She looked about her, enjoying the glamour of the room, the novelty of being away in London in a top class hotel, the wonder of being in love!

  Her eyes grew dreamy as she remembered moments from the night before. Hands linked, walking up the street, the desire in his eyes when he took her in his arms outside her door and his murmured, ‘Don’t forget me, Kay. I’ll be thinking of you,’ before he turned away to go to his own room in another part of the hotel. She gave a blissful sigh and looked down at her body, awed that it could contain such happiness, such abundance of feeling.

  When she had eaten everything on the tray she stretched in satisfaction and climbed out of bed to go into the tiled perfection of the pink and white bathroom. Standing under the shower, she soaped herself all over, enjoying the leisurely wash in warm, attractive surroundings. By now he would be well on his way to Karachi.

  He was the senior captain on the flight deck and they were making a very early start. ‘Long before you are awake,’ he had told her smiling. Was he thinking of her now as she was thinking of him? She gave a little shiver, remembering the urgent hardness of his body as he kissed her goodnight. She relived it all, her senses deliciously stirred.

  Then, wrapping herself in a big fluffy pink towel she wandered back into the bedroom, feeling sinfully luxurious and pleased with life.

  Thirty minutes to pick-up. Clad in a white lacy bra and pants, she sat at her dressing- table and made up her face with meticulous care, stroking a black pencil over arched brows, drawing a fluid line along her lids.

  How sensational his eyes, she remembered, unable to stop thinking of him. How sensational every bit of him! He really was extraordinarily handsome. How old? She glossed on lipstick. Late thirties at a guess. Older than anyone she had ever gone out with.

  She turned from the mirror satisfied with her looks. Stroking on nylons, she slipped her feet into high heels and took her uniform from the closet. Her beret set at a becoming angle on her dark hair, she tossed her nightdress under the pillow. How marvellous if he had been spending another night in London like herself.

  ‘Don’t be greedy,’ she admonished herself. ‘Be thankful for what you got.’

  Five minutes to pick-up. She slung her bag on her shoulder, picked up her kitbag and walked jauntily along the corridor to the lift.

  A month later the sharp April weather set Captain Pender’s teeth on edge as he emerged from the arrivals building and strode across to the pilots’ quarters. Just back from Karachi, he was
feeling the cold and shivered without his topcoat to combat the morning chill. Stupid of him to have forgotten the harshness of Irish weather, he thought. There was a lot of truth in the old adage. ‘Cast not a clout till May is out’. London through which he had just passed had been full of sunshine and signs of spring. Here everything seemed to have gone into reverse. With a slightly jaundiced eye, he regarded the tightly furled tulip buds sticking up greenly in the display beds. What a climate!

  He entered the pilots’ lounge to pick up his roster and barely glanced at the Second Officers yawning on reserve, before heading out again. Only awaiting the moment they could safely start phoning numbers to line up a bit of crumpet for the night, Graham cynically suspected, remembering his own misspent youth.

  He collected his car from the pilots’ car park and as he drove fast across the city, wondered in what state he would find his household. Before leaving Karachi, he had rung his wife twice to let her know he was coming but had been unable to get through. He would have tried again from London only it was so early and he knew how much Sile hated being woken.

  As he sped along, Graham’s thoughts turned to his sons who at twelve and ten were fast leaving babyhood behind them. They would be excited at having him home again, he thought, especially Nicky. These days Captain Pender was all too conscious of how little time he spent with his children. His job as an airline pilot was partly to blame for this, as he was often rostered to fly at weekends, a time most normal families spent together, or else away in the east on loan to other airlines like he had been for the past month.

  With almost frightening clarity he realised that too many precious moments of their childhood were already lost to him forever. His judgement blurred as much from sentiment as fatigue, he saw his sons to whom he was fiercely attached, as loyal and upright, without fault. When away he had often thought of them longingly, picturing them helping their mother in the house or going to school rugby matches. In reality, the two boys did not get on all that well and (not unlike their parents) seldom went anywhere together.

  The traffic on the road was light and he made good time. He put his key in the lock and was about to turn it when to his surprise, the door suddenly opened and Nicholas ran forward to hug him.

  ‘Dad, great to see you,’ he cried excitedly. ‘We weren’t expecting you till next week.’ Graham affectionately ruffled his youngest son’s dark wavy hair, so like his own, and returned the hug with interest.

  ‘Decided to give you a surprise,’ he smiled, then noticing the boy was still in his pyjamas, ‘But why aren’t you at school, Nicky?’

  I’m sick,’ Nicholas opened his mouth and pointed to his tonsils. ‘I’ve got quinsy throat,’ he said importantly.

  Graham’s anxiety leapt as he became aware of the hectically flushed cheeks, the feverish glint in the child’s eyes.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed then?’ he queried sharply, noting in dismay the absence of slippers on his son’s bare feet, and no dressing gown on either on this chilly morning.

  ‘I was but I saw you coming,’ Nicholas confessed, hopping from the cold polished wood to a mat.

  Through the open door Graham could see the blinds lowered in the kitchen. ‘Mummy upstairs?’ he enquired casually.

  ‘She went to a party in Auntie May’s house last night,’ Nicholas explained. ‘She rang earlier to say she’d be back before lunch.’

  Graham felt a slow build up of rage. So nothing had changed. Selfish bitch! he stormed, as he brought the child upstairs and tucked him into bed. Worriedly, he took the boy’s temperature. It was a hundred and three. My God, what was she thinking of going off like that? The child could get pneumonia.

  Thoroughly exasperated and alarmed, he went to ring the doctor. Then with a grim set to his jaw dialled his sister-in-law’s house. He had to wait while the maid went to get her.

  ‘Oh it’s you, Graham.’ May’s tone was dismayed. ‘When did you get back?’ ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  ‘You want Sile. She’s still in bed actually,’ May laughed awkwardly. ‘We had a bit of a do last night. Went on rather late, I’m afraid. I’ll get her for you.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Graham said curtly. ‘Just tell her to get back here as quickly as possible. Nicky is sick and needs her.’

  ‘Oh poor Nicky. I hope it’s not serious.’ May was a fond if not doting aunt.

  ‘Serious enough,’ Graham told her grimly, ‘He has a temperature of one hundred and three.’

  Not bothering to reply to her shocked gasp, he replaced the phone and went wearily to shower. Changing into slacks and a sweater, he went downstairs to make coffee and wait for the doctor. By the time Dr.Nolan had come and prescribed an antibiotic for Nicky, Graham was feeling the effects of being up all night and having practically no sleep in thirty-six hours. He yawned but grimly sat it out, determined to stay up till Sile arrived. When her pale blue Opel Kadett finally turned in the gates it was getting on for two o’clock.

  ‘You certainly took your time,’ Graham met her at the front door.

  ‘What’s all the fuss about?’ Sile brushed past him down the hall. ‘Nicky has had quinsy throat before and been none the worse for it. All he needs is plenty of hot drinks and disprin.’

  ‘Is that all you have to say?’ Furiously, Graham followed her into the kitchen,.’What kind of woman are you going off like that to a party and leaving a sick child on his own.’

  ‘It was only for a few hours,’ Sile protested. ‘Anyway he was asleep when I left and Jeremy promised to keep an eye on him. As it turns out you were here this morning so everything is all right.’

  ‘No it is not all right,’ Graham snapped. ‘The child has a dangerously high temperature and was on his own all morning. What if I hadn’t arrived back?’

  ‘But you did, didn’t you.’ Sile tossed her head impatiently and went to switch on the kettle. ‘I never heard such a fuss about nothing. You should have rung and told me you were coming if you wanted a welcome party.’

  ‘A welcome party!’ Graham stared at her, incensed. ‘That’s the last thing I wanted. All I wanted was for you to be here looking after our sons but I see now it was too much to expect.’ He frowned and said coldly, ‘It makes me wonder just how often you went off like this while I was away and left the boys on their own.’

  Sile glared back at him, ‘Honestly, Graham, stop making out I’m neglecting them.’ ‘Aren’t you?’

  Maddened by his sceptical look she cried, ‘Oh well, if that’s what you believe then nothing I say will make any difference. Look for goodness sake, I went to a party in May’s house. I was at the end of a telephone. I could be contacted at any time.’

  ‘That’s not the point, it’s just not good enough,’ Graham fumed. ‘Apart altogether from Nicky being ill, anything could have happened to the children here on their own with no one to look after them.’ He was beset by visions of a fire raging while his sons slept, a burglary with violence in that secluded avenue.

  ‘And what about me?’ Sile cried. ‘On my own for weeks on end with only the children for company.’ She began to cry, choking sobs for the lonely picture she painted, for the reality of it had she not gone about so much. ‘You know how low I get when you’re gone. I’ve got to have company if I’m not to go mad altogether.’

  Graham frowned. It was true that depression after bouts of gay, nervous energy had always featured in their domestic life. Mindful of it now, he was forced to go easy on her. The last thing he wanted was a reoccurrence of the bad time a few years back. His eyes clouded remembering her breakdown followed by months of valium-taking.

  Three days later, Graham made his supernumerary trip to New York. On his return, he had two days on stand-off, before flying out again to America, this time sitting in the left- hand seat on the flight deck when he was given a satisfactory check by the Training Captain. By the time Graham was back a fortnight from the east, he had made several more trips to New York and was becoming more accustomed to jet-lag and the long hours
spent at the controls.

  While away, he found himself thinking a lot about Kitty Martin. For some reason, Graham always thought of her as Kitty. He didn’t know why except that it suited her somehow. He was aware of a strong urge to see her again but so far had held back from contacting her. It had something to do with making another effort at his marriage.

  On returning from Karachi, Graham had been fully determined (if only for the sake of his sons) to give it another go but he was soon swamped by the hopelessness of the situation. If Sile had made even the slightest effort to meet him, he thought, it might have been different. But they seemed to be drawing further and further apart. Perhaps what they needed was a few days away on their own, he thought. It seemed worth a try anyway.

  ‘What do you say we fly to Paris next weekend,’ he suggested as they sat watching television on his last evening on stand-off. ‘I’m on duty but I could probably manage a swap. We’ll get someone in to mind the boys for a few days. Wouldn’t it be a nice break?’

  Sile took her eyes from the television and smoothed a hand over her red-gold hair, ‘Mmm,’ she agreed absently. ‘Why don’t we. I’m sure we could arrange a foursome.’

  ‘I meant on our own,’ he said flatly. Very few of Sile’s friends were friends of his.

  She glanced at his face and then away, her own expression hard, reminded of how unpleasant he had been to her when he arrived back from Karachi. ‘Oh sorry,’ she said in mock- regret. ‘I’ve just remembered, I promised my mother to have her over next weekend. Sorry, dear. Some other time.

  Graham shrugged philosophically and put aside all thoughts of Paris. Perhaps it was just as well, he thought. Only the happy in love should go to that magical romantic city.

  Next day he flew out to America. Because of a delay in taking off from Shannon, they arrived into Kennedy an hour behind schedule. It was almost midnight, or just before seven o’clock American time as he stood at the crew check-in desk signing the register. As usual after the long demanding Atlantic flight, he felt tense and strung-up. Beside him the younger pilots were busily exchanging room numbers and making plans for the evening. He let their chatter pass unheeded over his head as he waited for his room key. Evening, he thought wryly. Oh for the resilience of youth.