by Lee Alan
She stepped out and pulled aside the sliding van doors. Despite her feelings of intimidation in the face of such a grand sight, she continued to remove her cleaning kit, while mentally going through her plan for the hundredth time. You need to gain their trust, but how?
She let up a small prayer for guidance while pressing her hand to the small crucifix under her starched, white uniform. Forgive me, Lord. I know that what I’m about to do is a sin, but it’s for the love of Him.
She resisted the urge to pull out her cigs and take a few drags before entering, but she could feel eyes on her, and she knew cleaners had been fired for smoking on the grounds of a client.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, as the blonde–haired woman emerged from the entrance.
***
Anna strolled out from the main reception to greet the new cleaner, feeling awkward about the whole concept of bringing in hired help. It didn’t sit well with her blue–collar background but, for months, she’d fought a losing battle against dirt in the living quarters. Although an army of staff kept the main grounds of the estate in immaculate condition, the smaller private area had no such provision. There was still a huge space to clean between her and Corey, and unsurprisingly, Corey was far too busy for such mundane considerations. He was so caught up in the business that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if a plague of locusts descended on them.
They’d allowed the situation to drag on for far too long. In truth, Anna found it so hard to trust anyone that she’d put off making the necessary arrangements. Knowing her reservations, Corey had tried to teach George the complex actions needed. Although he’d proven an excellent duster, they’d soon found the limits of his physical abilities. Several costly lessons later, including a broken toilet bowl, they’d agreed to consider extra help.
Anna had suggested that one of the grounds staff members could be reassigned to keeping their love nest from becoming a pig sty. Much to her irritation, however, Corey had laughed at the suggestion. It would seem that the people she’d regarded as well–spoken gardeners were, in fact, senior research academics. Asking them to divert their valuable time into picking up their employer’s dirty undies would likely earn Corey a reputation as the new Howard Hughes.
As luck would have it, an agency had contacted her to offer their services. Tiring of the constant warnings by the security team not to accept unsolicited services from anyone, she’d agreed to give them a try.
The woman before her looked the part, dressed in a smart, pressed, white uniform emblazoned with the company logo. “I was kinda expectin’ a little green man to come out,” the woman greeted Anna in a gravelly tone. It reminded her of her grandmother’s rasping, no–nonsense voice. The cleaners face had a weather–worn, hardworking cast to it—the kind that came through years of toil.
“It’s a bit other–worldly, isn’t it?” Anna smiled, enjoying the woman’s direct manner. “Don’t worry, though, it hasn’t flown anywhere, yet.”
“Impressive, though,” the cleaner said. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Mrs.—.”
“Price,” added Anna. “It’s Miss, actually. For now, anyway.” she added, feeling color rise in her cheeks. Something about the older woman made her feel self–conscious. Maybe it was the way her lips pursed, as if in judgement at the comment.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Price, I don’t think one cleaner will be enough.”
“Oh no, it’s not the whole thing we need looking after,” Anna reassured her. “Just mine and my fiancé’s living quarters.”
“Fiancé, ya say?”
“That’s right,” Anna replied, feeling strangely defensive.
The cleaner introduced herself as Katlin Spence, Senior Hygienist Practitioner. Anna offered her hand to shake while hiding her amusement at the grand title. Katlin looked down at Anna’s arm, seeming to hesitate before accepting it. Her lips remained pursed, accentuating the deep creases around her mouth.
Although the woman’s odd behaviour bothered Anna a little, she also found her refreshingly different. She’d experienced too many people behaving in a deferential way toward her because of her newfound status. To find someone, other than Claire, who wore their heart on their sleeve appealed to her. She needed these kind of grounded people in her life.
“Best get down to it, then,” Katlin said in a business–like manner before retrieving a serious–looking mop and bucket from the van.
“Great. Let me give you the tour, first,” Anna replied, leading her through the gleaming, white arch of the main entrance.
“Holy mother of God,” Katlin said when they entered the double doors to reveal the splendor of the interior.
Anna turned to find the cleaner stopped in her tracks, her expression slack–jawed.
“It catches out most people, at first,” Anna said to fill the awkward silence.
“It’s wonderful,” Katlin remarked in stunned amazement. She turned around on the spot with her neck cocked backward, and her plain sneakers squeaked on the inlaid marble floor. “It’s like paradise.”
The mechanical sound of George approaching them broke the moment. As soon as Katlin set eyes on the robot, she froze in shock and dropped the bucket on the ground with a loud clang, before proceeding to present the mop in front of her, as if about to engage in single combat.
“Greetings, visitor!” George announced, striding toward the terrified woman.
“Back off, tin can!” Katlin shouted, brandishing the mop.
Anna did her best to stifle the laugh welling in her, even as she stepped forward to calm the misunderstanding. Yep, I definitely need this in my life, she thought.
Chapter 12
Anna had never been outside the US. Now, however, she sat beside Corey while the rolling green hills of Ireland flashed beneath them some twenty–thousand feet below. The landscape looked so unreal from this height, like a model constructed for her benefit. The sea appeared like tin foil, and when they’d passed over the white peaks of a mountain range, they’d looked like tiny, iced cakes. The irrational part of her expected the stunning visual effects to be an elaborate fake, and after landing, the fuselage door would open to reveal that they were still in Arizona.
What a set of wonders she’d seen during their journey to Europe. No matter how long she lived, no experience could match cruising into a crimson sunset above the sparkling waves of the Atlantic. During that magical hour, Corey had brought the altitude of the Mark 2 well below the norm with electrifying results. The tinfoil waves had transformed into reality, and the desolate beauty of the ocean had unveiled itself.
It’d been Corey’s idea to travel to Europe to get hitched, and the concept had appealed to her. It was so grand of a gesture, and he’d conveyed it with such natural enthusiasm, that she’d found it impossible to resist. She also hoped the unfamiliar environment would distract her from the void of Julia and her parents.
“We are over the Irish sea,” Corey said, sounding weary from the long flight. He’d been in the saddle for over twenty–four hours and was clearly overdue a rest. She ran her hand over his back to show empathy.
“Next thing you’ll see is Wales,” he added, giving her a tired–looking grin.
“I know they’re big fish, but I’m not sure we’ll see them from up here,” she teased. Despite his intelligence, Corey had a gullible streak that she loved to bait.
“Not whales, W–A–L–E–S,” he corrected her. “It’s a country next to England,” he added, before turning to see the mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“I make it ten times,” she declared with a chortle, and then tweaked his nose. Corey rolled his eyes.
She’d invented the Corey fishing game during one of the more tedious parts of their flight. The rather cruel sport involved exploiting his natural tendency to slip into teacher mode, given half an opportunity. Much to her amusement, Anna had found that this pompous trait could be exploited.
“Where are we landing?” she asked.
“London City Airport in about…” he looked down at the glowing dials, “thirty minutes.” Anna’s sense of excitement grew.
***
In total contrast to Arizona, England was a lush country. The very air itself was alive with moisture. She lost count of all the lakes and rivers they passed over. As they descended through the cloud clover, it became clear just how varied the climate was. They’d passed through at least three rain showers interspersed with sunny patches. The outside air temperature was a cool, yet not unpleasant fifty degrees Fahrenheit.
As they approached their destination, she could see that it was far more populated than she’d expected. The great, green belt of land dominating much of the landscape was often interspersed with major urban areas.
“London,” he said, pointing. Ahead of them loomed the largest city she’d ever seen—far bigger than Phoenix.
“Buckle up,” Corey added. “It’s time to land this baby.”
Another thrill passed through Anna. Because they were moving so fast in the final moments before landing, she could barely make out the sights below. She did, however, catch a glimpse of a giant, white wheel beside the bank of a mighty river lined with skyscrapers and older buildings.
“What’s with the big wheel?” she asked, trying to calm her nerves during the approach.
“The London Eye,” he replied. The opportunity for him to elaborate passed, because the sprawl of the airport soon drifted into view.
“London Airport’s cool,” he declared. “It’s built into the center of the river, so when you’re landing, it feels like you’re going to roll right off the end and into the water!” he said happily, directing a grin at her worried expression. “It’s perfectly safe.” he added, obviously detecting the dangerous look in her eye.
Corey nudged the sleek, black nose of the plane lower still and pressed an intercom button above his head.
“Be advised, London Control, this is yankee foxtrot twenty–nine seeking permission to land.” A staccato buzz answered, followed by a voice in a thick accent she hadn’t heard before. “Yankee foxtrot twenty–nine, permission to land granted. Welcome to the UK, Mr. Young.”
“Cool, I got the VIP greeting,” Corey approved, directing another toothy smile her way.
The Mark 2 drifted toward the earth, far lighter and quieter than a more conventional plane. It glided downward with only minimal power needed from its twin solar–powered prop engines. Just as it seemed they would skim the tops of the tallest building, Corey flicked a switch marked Landing Gear. Anna heard the reassuring sound of the mechanism responding, and shortly after, she started to feel the nausea in her tummy associated with a steeper descent. After several more tense seconds, Corey guided the sun–powered winged missile toward a concrete floor at a hundred miles per hour.
“Why is the airport in the middle of the city?” Anna asked, clutching her stomach.
“It’s not the main airport,” he replied, turning the aircraft in a wide arch—presumably to align them better. The maneuver made Anna feel queasy. “They specialize in business traffic. Plus, London Airport is closest to our hotel, and I’m a VIP, don’t you know?” he finished in a mock posh accent.
“Do we have to turn so fast?” she asked, resisting the urge to bring up her breakfast.
“‘Fraid so, hon. It’s either turn or land on the grounds of Buckingham Palace, and I’m pretty sure the Queen can have us beheaded for messing up her lawn.”
“Smartass.” The following laugh made her want to give him a slap.
Anna liked the hints of special treatment to come, though. They were both close to exhaustion, and the thought of a soak in a warm bath followed by a long sleep in a soft bed sounded like Heaven, right then. They’d spent so long in the air that she feared her legs would have forgotten how to walk on solid ground.
Corey’s insistence that she wear special flight socks the whole journey had made her feel even more uncomfortable. At first, she’d thought he was joking when he presented her with what could only be described as a pair of ugly–ass tights. She’d refused to wear them, of course, pointing out that they would make her look like an extra in a seventies cop show. He responded with a lecture about exploding veins, so, after much sulking, she’d agreed, but on one condition: he spare her from more nerd talk.
The runway appeared as a single, white line in the middle of the River Thames. As they got lower still, the length of the landing strip looked too short, while the fast–approaching surface of the river raced beneath them.
“Corey…” she began, unable to hide the concern from her voice.
“It’s an optical effect, dear,” he replied, without bothering to ask what the matter was.
After several nerve–shredding moments, the Mark 2 touched the earth with a barely–perceptible bump. As soon as the wheels kissed the tarmac, she heard the power of the engines audibly reduce. Corey followed the deft maneuver by slowing the plane’s speed. This proved enough to allow Anna to unplug her fingernails from the co–pilots chair.
Unlike the larger airports, London Airport only had a single runway with a modest complex of buildings surrounding it. A giant, white dome dominated the view ahead, and further to the left, a collection of colossal skyscrapers stood out against the grey London skyline. The plane speed had reduced now, while Corey taxied them toward a collection of private jets.
“What’s with the dome?” Anna asked, trying to contain her excitement.
“It’s the O2 Arena,” Corey replied, flicking various switches and steering toward a space amongst the other aircraft. “The Brits built it to celebrate the year 2000.”
“Why do you know some much about London?” she asked, always curious to learn more about her future husband.
“The UK has some of the best engineers in the world. I go where the talent is,” he said as he slid their remarkable vehicle between two business jets. “It’s not just that, though: I kinda fell in love with the place and the people. The British are pretty reserved, but when they learn to trust you, they’re great.” He turned more glowing dials. “London happens to be a beautiful city—you’ll see.” he added for the tenth time since they’d set off.
When the Mark 2 trundled to a gentle stop, a luxurious–looking navy–blue car with tinted windows emerged from the squat terminal building. As it drew closer, Anna could see a motif in the form of a shapely winged female sitting on its solid grill. Below the iconic symbol, on a polished plate, two interlocking, embossed R’s gave away the vehicles unmistakable identity.
“Cool – they sent the Rolls.” Corey observed the car as he turned off the engines and removed his flight headpiece. “Phew!” He threw the headset onto the dashboard and then rolled his shoulders to remove the kink from his neck. “Not sure about you, honey, but I’m ready for the three ‘S’s,” he said.
Anna remembered her father using the same rather vulgar phrase on a few occasions when he’d returned from a long day at work. “Shower, shit, and shave?” she asked.
Corey laughed. “Speak for yourself, love. Actually, I was thinking: shower, sausages, and sex.”
Anna blushed before punching him on the shoulder playfully. ”You should be so lucky.”
“What do ya reckon, ready to see London?”
“Meh.”
He laughed again before taking her by the hand and leading them through the cabin and out into the cold, afternoon air. The colors and sights seemed super vivid outside the confines of the small cockpit.
A driver exited the passenger’s side of the car, wearing a long, footman’s navy–blue overcoat and cap. Another group of airport staff joined him and removed baggage from the plane’s hold before loading it into the shiny trunk of the Rolls Royce. Anna noticed with a thrill that the steering wheel was on the opposite side of the car from cars in the US. Wow, I really am in another country, she thought, finally convincing her subconscious that it was all real.
Corey held her hand while he escorted her down the chrome steps of the Mark 2. T
he supportive gesture wasn’t just for show: she’d made the decision to greet Europe in style, wearing an elegant, emerald dress with matching high heels. Anna wanted to make an impression as his future wife, rather than the waitress with a tragic past who’d gotten lucky.
The driver strolled over to the passenger side of the car and removed a large bouquet of red orchids.
“Your carriage awaits, m’lady.” Corey indicated the waiting passenger seat.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Young and Miss Price. On behalf of the Nightingale–Carlton, welcome to the United Kingdom.” the driver said, handing Anna the bouquet.
Their escort opened the back passenger door, allowing them to sink into a brown, leather interior. Anna caught the image of a wealthy couple reflected in the surface of the polished, chestnut wood surrounding them. That’s me.
“Did he just say the Nightingale?” she asked Corey while the driver moved to the front of the car.
“He did.”
“As in THE Nightingale Hotel?” Even in the US, the name was famous for its luxurious standards.
“Did ya think I’d dump me bootiful Mrs. in any old flop haas?” he replied in a terrible English accent that made him sound more like Dick Van Dike than any real English person.
“We need to make a short stop to take you through customs, sir,” the driver informed them as he pulled the limo toward the main terminal building. “My apologies, but it shouldn’t take long. We have a special arrangement for our Platinum Suite customers.”
They drove straight past arrivals before pulling up outside a discreet, unmarked doorway. The red carpet running from its opening spoke of its real purpose.
Anna felt like she was visiting royalty during the following formalities. She found it hard to believe she’d been the same Phoenix girl who, until recently, had scrubbed pans to make ends meet. The courteous team greeting them seemed unaware of her previous status or the nightmare she’d endured. Anna realized that, to them, she and Corey must look like the same happy couple she’d seen reflected in the shiny surface of the car: a successful man and his elegant partner. The sense of liberation was amazing. For the first time since the trial, she dared to believe in a future free from notoriety and suspicion.
