He scuffed at the scrubby grass where a zillion cricket bats had been hurled down in frustrated disgust outside the pavilion. ‘Look, I just wanted to say that I want you to do the first show with Barnaby. It makes more sense for Gaynor to be with me, with this being her inauguration. I’ve suggested to Barnaby that he flies slightly ahead, so that if Gaynor gets lost on the routines she can follow you.’
‘Fine,’ Billie nodded, as the West Minton Brownies did a hatchet job on Sir Roger de Coverley in the roped-off arena. ‘Jonah, are you OK? You look – well – pretty knackered.’
‘I didn’t sleep much. But I’m fit to fly if that’s what’s bothering you. Claire and Antony got married yesterday.’
‘Oh God . . .’ She moved towards him, then stepped back. ‘I mean – I’m really sorry . . .’
‘Thanks. And I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention it again.’
‘Well, no, of course not . . .’
‘Good. Oh, and for the first display I want you and Gaynor to be already strapped into the rigs when we take off. We’re going to do a low-level flight round the field so that everyone can see you, OK? After that, we’ll come in with you both in the cockpits, still low, so that the crowd can watch you get out onto the wing before we climb for the stunts – OK? And we’ll leave out the mirror formation on the first stint until I’m sure Gaynor’s all right. OK?’
‘OK once, twice, thrice.’ She smiled to herself. It sounded quite pilotish. ‘We’re almost ready to go then, aren’t we?’
Jonah nodded. ‘About ten minutes. Are you nervous?’
‘Petrified.’
‘Great.’
He walked away.
Ten minutes later, with ‘Something in the Air’ blasting from the speakers, strapped into the rigs, Billie and Gaynor looked across at each other, grinned, and gave the thumbs up. Then they braced themselves against the struts as side by side, the Stearmans’ propellers swirled and roared, the engines joined in, and the planes bumped towards takeoff.
Again, as soon as they were airborne, Billie felt the rush of adrenaline, the pure pleasure, as practically wing tip to wing tip, the two planes bellowed their cavalry charge across the carnival field. They were low enough for her to see the astonishment on the upturned faces, see the waving hands, feel the whoosh of excitement as they zoomed, still low, swooped, and then started to climb.
As if joined by an invisible thread, she and Gaynor waved, kicked and pirouetted at exactly the same time. ‘Eight Miles High’ was just audible above the engine noise, as Barnaby and Jonah split apart, circled through the sky and came together again.
Billie, her mouth stretched into the obligatory smile, her arms aching, fought the wind and the prop wash, heard the music change to ‘I’m Alive’ and went through the routine. She loved it. She damn well loved it. She glanced across at Gaynor . . . Gaynor looked back and gave a thumbs up . . . Barnaby waggled Lumley’s wings slightly in a gesture of pleasure. Only Jonah remained impassive.
Sod him, Billie thought. He’s not the only one with a broken heart.
It was all over far too quickly. Once again, as soon as they’d landed to tumultuous applause, to be surrounded by running children and excited dogs, Billie couldn’t wait to get up there and do it again. Jonah leaped from his cockpit and hugged Gaynor. He didn’t hug Billie but gave a double thumbs up. Barnaby hugged Billie a lot – but it wasn’t the same.
Gaynor wiped her nose and her eyes and flung her arms round Billie’s neck. ‘Oh, my God! It’s incredible! And we’ve got another four displays to do this afternoon! Wowee! Oh God – how long does the euphoria last?’
‘About ten years,’ Billie said, watching Jonah stride away.
As everyone else seemed to want drinks and loos and something to eat, and Billie didn’t, she hung around the field for a while trying to come down to earth by watching the tractor-pulling, but got embarrassed by people staring at her in the costume. It was one thing to be an aerobabe high up in the sky, but quite another to be just her and feeling shy at ground level. She decided to cut her losses and go back to the cricket pavilion.
It was very quiet and stuffy and cluttered. She sank down on one of the benches.
‘Hello, Billie . . .’
‘Jesus Christ!’
She leaped to her feet. If she’d thought her pulse was racing before, it was doing a marathon now. Reuben, looking very serious, emerged from the shadows.
She swallowed. ‘I wish to God you’d stop doing this! You lurk everywhere and then creep up on me and – Hell! There’s nothing wrong with Miranda, is there?’
‘Nothing at all. She’s mooching round the bonnie baby competition and getting broody. She’ll be over in a minute. I just wanted to talk to you. Alone.’
‘Well – as always – I don’t want to talk to you. Go away. Please. We’ve got nothing left to say to each other – except if you ever hurt Miranda, I’ll kill you.’
Reuben nodded. ‘Yes, I believe you would. And I won’t.’
‘Good.’ She sucked in her breath. ‘Did you ask Kieran to open the club just to bug me – because if so, it didn’t work.’
‘I didn’t think it would – I just needed to know –’ Reuben’s eyes slid away from her.
‘I’m very proud of you, Billie.’
‘I don’t want you to be proud of me! I don’t want you to have anything to do with me! Understand?’
‘Yes, I do – but I really need to talk to you. No, please, Billie, listen this time. It’s important.’
‘Crap! You’re just here so that you can –’
‘Can what? Make my move? Like I’ve done ever since I first met you? Harass you? Stalk you?’
Reuben shook his head. ‘You’re way off beam, Billie. Way off. And I do love Miranda. Very much. Surprisingly, as I was never going to allow myself the pleasure of that emotion again, I want her to marry me. We’ve talked things over and she says I’ve got to explain everything to you.’
Billie groaned. ‘OK, then – but just for Miranda. Go on then – why?’
Reuben yanked his wallet from his back pocket and took out a photograph. ‘Look at it. Tell me what you see?’
Billie looked. The girl, tiny, blonde, laughing and about sixteen, looked very familiar. It was like looking at one of her own teenage photographs. She suddenly started to understand . . .
‘This is some picture of your ex, isn’t it? Someone who had the sense to kick you into touch, and you’ve held a candle for ever since? You thought I looked like her, so you lived out some sort of substitute relationship through me – just because I have the misfortune to look the same?’
‘She’s my daughter.’
Billie’s mouth, open to hurl more invective, dropped. ‘Your daughter? You were married?’
Reuben shook his head. ‘Jessamy was born when I was eighteen. I was still at school, so was her mother, who I loved very much. So much so, in fact, that I swore I’d never allow myself to love anyone else. They moved away before Jessamy was born, but I kept in touch. Oh, not with her mother – that was banned. But I did my bit . . . paying maintenance – even when I was at university – sending cards and presents for her birthday and Christmas. I didn’t see Jessamy again until she was ten. Her mother had married, had other children, Jess was asking questions about me. We started meeting for days out, then she’d stay with me for weekends . . . We became very close . . .’
Billie watched the emotions in his face, still not moved. So? She looked like his daughter – so what? Didn’t that make the whole harassment thing even more disturbing? ‘How much of this does Miranda know?’
‘All of it. I told you. I’m going to marry her. I didn’t want there to be any secrets.’
Billie shook her head. So, a hefty chunk of Reuben’s money was being whisked away by the CSA? So, he’d become bitter and twisted over the years because his teenage lover and his child had been snatched away from him? Well, it was sad, but it was a long time ago. It must have happened to a lot of men. It certainly didn’t excuse
his behaviour.
‘I still don’t see why you had to treat me so bloody awfully?’
‘Because I wanted to protect you. I recognised Kieran Squires that night. I thought you were younger than you were. You looked so much like Jess . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘I couldn’t do it for her, so I did it for you instead. Only, I was afraid to be nice, you see? Being nice had lost me Jessamy.’
Billie closed her eyes. A psychiatrist would have a bonanza here. ‘I’m glad you’re not my father! You can’t control your children by power. Not any more. You have to let them go their own way! God, Reuben, is this really what it’s about? You wanting to employ me, watch over me, be everywhere I am, so that you could protect me?’
Reuben shrugged. ‘It was. It’s not any more. I’m sorry if I frightened you. I never meant to. I just needed to make sure you were safe, but you don’t need me. I know that now. You’re strong and independent and successful. You’ve put the Kieran Squires thing behind you and got on with your life – but I couldn’t. It was just that . . . because of the way I felt, I thought I’d been given a second chance . . .’ He sighed. ‘Sorry, Billie. My intentions were good – my methods were shit. You’ll always be OK . . .’
She felt as though a weight had been lifted. She wasn’t scared of him any more. She just felt sorry for him. Poor man . . . Still, he’d have babies with Miranda – Jessamy would have little brothers and sisters. Reuben would probably never be the Victorian father with them – and she understood and was free . . . She was really free!
‘If I could just add one thing which might make you fully understand.’ Reuben reached to take back the photograph. ‘Jess was just sixteen when I took this. She’d stopped coming down to see me every weekend because she had a boyfriend at home. He was older . . . and married . . . but I didn’t find that out until later.’
He stared at the photo for a long time. ‘He went back to his wife. Jessamy was dumped. She pinched her mother’s car and tried to find him. She was too young to have a licence, had never driven before. There was an accident – and – and she – she was killed a month after this photo was taken . . .’
Billie froze. Tears welled in her eyes. Jesus . . .
‘Oh, Reuben.’ She ran across the pavilion and hugged him. ‘You poor thing . . . I’m so sorry . . .’
‘So am I. I was pretty confused. It all happened only a couple of months before I picked you and Kieran up and I was mad with grief.’ Reuben disentangled himself. ‘I know now that I must have terrified you. I should have explained . . .’
‘Yes, you should. But you’ll be happy now, with Miranda.’
‘Very. Jess would have adored her. And you don’t hate me?’
Billie smiled gently. ‘I’ve hated you for more than three years. It’ll be a hard habit to break, but I’ll have a go.’
‘Thanks . . . Oh, hello, sweetheart . . .’
‘Hiya, dolls!’ Miranda breezed through the door and kissed them both. ‘Have you finished talking?’
Reuben nodded, swallowed, and with a curt nod, walked out of the pavilion.
Miranda watched him go. ‘Did Reuben – I mean, has he –’
‘Told me about Jessamy? Yes.’
Miranda stared at Billie. ‘I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about him. I know now what he put you through, but you do understand, don’t you? Poor, poor Reuben. We’ve had so many tears . . .’
‘Don’t.’ Billie sniffed. ‘He must have suffered agonies. But you’ve helped him so much – and now I think congratulations are in order, aren’t they?’
‘Oooh – yes!’ Miranda pulled away and waved a ruby engagement ring under Billie’s nose. ‘We’re getting married on Christmas Eve. You will be bridesmaid, won’t you, doll?’
‘Try and stop me,’ Billie grinned. ‘But I still don’t promise not to bash Reuben with my holly bouquet.’
Everything was still tumbling round Billie’s brain as she scrambled into the cockpit in front of Jonah for the second show of the afternoon. She felt totally drained. She could really do with a lie down in a darkened room and an aromatherapy candle; hurling herself upside down tied to the top of a plane was possibly not the best antidote.
‘OK?’ Jonah tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Fine. Oh, do you want me to check the plane for spiders before we take off?’
‘Glad to see you’ve regained your sense of humour. Er – wasn’t that Reuben I saw just now? He wasn’t hassling you, was he?’
‘Yes it was, and no he wasn’t.’
‘Good. Let’s get on with this then.’
Billie sighed, then fixed her smile as the propeller turned, thumbs-upped to Gaynor, and prepared for takeoff.
She and Gaynor went through the whole routine again, getting from the cockpits to the wings and into the rigs like identical shadows. Barnaby’s plane was always just visible from the corner of her eye, mimicking Jonah’s moves. With the sun glinting on the silver paintwork, they performed firework patterns through the sky.
The engine note changed as Jonah pushed the Stearman into a climb. Billie leaned back against the rig, flattened by the pressure of the wind. They were going to attempt the mirror formation – and she’d probably die . . .
The sky swooped up in front of her, disappeared over her shoulder, and reappeared beneath her head. Dangling, upside down, she waved both arms as Jonah manoeuvred the Stearman above Barnaby’s. They inched downwards, getting closer, until Jonah’s inverted plane was hanging in the air, exactly above Lumley. With the blood rushing to her head, Billie could see Gaynor inches below her looking up, as Barnaby moved ever closer beneath them.
She took a deep breath, knowing she only had a fraction of time, and stretched her hands down towards Gaynor’s uplifted ones. And yes – oh, no, not quite. She stretched her aching arms again until she thought they’d be wrenched from their sockets – only a bit more – she had to do it . . . There! They’d made it! They’d touched fingertips!
With a triumphant roar, Jonah swept the Stearman away, righting it, and climbing. Billie, feeling the full effects of the G force, thought her head was about to explode, but it had been worth it. That was the most difficult manoeuvre to perform and they’d done it – together; she and Jonah had achieved what they’d all thought was impossible.
Within seconds they were flying at low level again, as she and Gaynor swivelled into headstands on the rigs and waved to the crowd. Then they were climbing again to ‘Yummy Yummy Yummy’ and high-kicking and it was almost time to unfasten the harness and climb back into the cockpit, and she didn’t want to stop . . .
Billie unbuckled the straps, and felt her way backwards along the wing, swaying with the wind and the prop wash, as high as a kite. It was as addictive as any drug. She lowered herself down into her seat and turned and grinned hugely at Jonah as she fastened her safety belt. She didn’t care if her face was all gloopy or if he was sitting there wishing she was Claire. To her surprise, he smiled back at her as he landed the Stearman just behind Barnaby’s on the edge of the field, his eyes crinkling.
As the engine died away and the propeller solidified, his voice was warm for the first time in weeks. ‘Ace, Billie. You were just ace.’
‘Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourself.’
They all stood up then, rather shakily, and took their bows. The crowd were still roaring their approval and chanting for more. Billie didn’t blame them. She knew exactly how they felt.
Jonah scrambled from the plane first and dropped to the ground. For a second Billie wondered if she might risk a leap into his arms like she had at the pageant, but thought better of it and climbed out, stepping demurely beside him, taking her bow. Beside Lumley, Barnaby and Gaynor, she noticed with amusement, were showing no such restraint.
‘Um, Jonah, about Reuben –’ she said quietly. ‘There’s something perhaps you ought to know.’
‘Is there?’
‘Yeah – it’s not what you think . . .’
‘No, it probably isn
’t. Anyway, there’s something I should have told you about Claire too.’
They were still bowing. The crowds were still cheering.
Billie cleared her throat. ‘Maybe the whole Reuben and Claire issue is a bit too complex to discuss now . . . um, maybe we could add it to the list to discuss at the Dil Raj, along with the advanced physics and the phobias?’
Jonah stopped in mid-triumphal wave and looked down at her. ‘Are you asking me out?’
‘Yes, well, no – sort of . . . Only if you want to, which you probably don’t, of course . . .’
He grinned. ‘And to think Estelle said you weren’t interested.’
Billie bridled. ‘Yes, she told me. And don’t get too smug. She had a snide dig at your sexuality too. She said you weren’t capable . . .’
‘I think we might have to prove her wrong, don’t you?’ Jonah suddenly picked her up and swung her round, much to the crowds’ delight. ‘Like now?’
‘My Granny Pascoe always said there was no time like the present.’
‘Good for Granny Pascoe,’ Jonah nodded. ‘A woman after my own heart.’
He kissed her lightly, then not so lightly, and then very thoroughly indeed. Billie’s legs buckled more than they ever had from the G force.
‘Thanks . . .’ he muttered, ‘for everything.’
‘My pleasure.’ She didn’t really want to stop the kissing. It was ages since she’d been kissed and never in her life by an expert like Jonah. ‘An aerophobe and an arachnophobe . . . it’s a hell of a combination – not to mention a bit of a tongue twister . . .’
They repeated the kissing manoeuvre again. It simply got better and better.
The crowd were bearing down on them and she pulled away from him a little. ‘Can I just ask you something? Estelle got it dead wrong about me, but was she right about you . . . you know?’
Jonah kissed her again. ‘Right at this moment I can assure you that Estelle has never been more wrong about anything in her life.’
‘Oh, goody . . .’ Billie hurled herself back into his arms, knowing now that her feet would never touch the ground again.
Walking on Air Page 51
