by Sadie Mills
Her mind was racing as she swung down the country lanes, finally meeting up with the M5. The sky was steely grey, the dazzling blue consigned to memory. Fat spots of rain dashed her windscreen, her wipers soon working overtime to keep up.
She kept thinking back to the jump: the terror at the door; cringing as she remembered how she froze; the exhilaration of freefall. Her speed crept up on her as she headed on down the motorway; she pushed the other stuff to the back of her head. She was over-thinking it - it was all just a misunderstanding. She hadn't been looking for any of that.
It was only a text. Just a text. She wasn't going to risk someone else getting in first for the sake of politeness. A few minutes later, Lucy's phone lit up with a ching.
LUCY, YOU'D BETTER NOT BE TEXTING AND DRIVING. IF YOU ARE, THAT'S A FAIL BEFORE YOU EVEN STARTED THE COURSE.
She frowned down at the white speech box, listening to the rain hammering down on the car roof.
I'm not driving. And there's no need to shout.
IF YOU'RE HOME ALREADY YOU MUST HAVE BEEN SPEEDING. WITH REGRET, MISS ALONSO, THAT'S A FAIL ALSO.
Lucy smirked.
I'm not back yet. I had to get petrol.
ELECTRICAL APPLIANCES + FUEL VAPOUR = BOOM! TURN YOUR PHONE OFF!
Lucy rolled her eyes. The windows were steaming up. She turned the fan on to clear them.
I'm not on the forecourt, I'm parked up. I needed some pills. I have a headache. Please stop shouting!
I'M NOT SHOUTING! I ALWAYS TEXT IN CAPS. I'M LAZY, THAT'S JUST HOW I ROLL. SORRY ABOUT THE HEADACHE :(
She smiled for a moment, then bit her bottom lip.
So can you do next weekend?
There came a two minute silence.
IS IT OK IF I COME BACK TO YOU?
Lucy's heart sank.
Fine.
She sighed.
LUCY... ARE WE SULKING AGAIN?
Her eyes flickered; mouth twitched.
No!
IF YOU SAY SO ;)
She grinned then winced, holding her top lip. Her phone chinged again.
WE'LL SORT SOMETHING OUT. I JUST NEED TO CHECK SOMETHING FIRST. OK?
Ok.
OK! SAFE JOURNEY HOME. I'LL SPEAK TO YOU SOON. PLEASE DRIVE CAREFULLY.
Lucy giggled at the irony. On the other hand, he evidently considered jumping out of a moving plane to be perfectly safe.
Will do XXX
She slung her phone into her bag, firing the ignition, wipers whirring, heading for home at a snail's pace.
'Eh up me duck!' grinned Jean from behind the counter, peering up through her oversized spectacles. 'Oh, flower, look at you!' she cooed. 'You're soaked through to the bone!'
'Everything alright?' Lucy ventured, shaking the rain from her hair, peeling her dripping cotton jacket from her shoulders.
'Smashing!' Jean told her. 'It's been really busy.
'Oh... I did try to get you earlier. I weren't sure where the till rolls were, but I found them in the end.'
Jean went on arranging the counter display, warbling to herself.
'Been anywhere nice?' she asked distractedly.
Phil hadn't called her making a fuss then.
'Oh, you know. Here and there,' smirked Lucy, scanning the shelves, her eyes drifting across the perfectly aligned rows of confectionary.
'Thanks for all your help, Jean. You can get off now, if you like.'
Lucy perched on the stool, elbows on the counter. Back to earth with a bump. How hard had she worked for all of this? Business plans at 19, loans from Barclays, guarantees from her mother. She peered around it all like a stranger. She'd wanted to be a chocolatier ever since reading about Willy Wonka at the ripe old age of 7. By 26, she'd done it, with bells on. Business Woman of the Year Awards; Young Entrepreneur of the Year from the local Chamber of Commerce. Stories in the Herald Express; fancy evening dos - she was a bit of a celebrity locally. Lucy looked around the shop that had once been a dream; the shop she owned lock, stock and barrel. She glanced around the brightly-coloured packets of confectionary with new eyes. She didn't want any of it.
The door tinkled open. Lucy smiled at the young guy in jeans and a khaki jacket. She glanced down at her wristwatch: half past four.
She groaned inwardly as he approached the counter, a slab of white chocolate in his hand.
'Would you like that iced?'
Of course he did. They always do.
He smiled meekly at her and nodded.
'To Miss Jones. Congratulations on the new job. Love from Christopher.'
Lucy smirked at the address, remembering Josh's Miss Simkins remarks.
'She's a school teacher,' the guy explained sheepishly.
Lucy looked up from her icing, smiling back politely, nodding. She wiped away a stray blob of dark fondant before packaging it up, holding it up to him for inspection.
The guy in the khaki jacket stared at it, pulling a face.
'Do you think you could put a kiss on there?' he asked pensively.
Lucy stared at him.
He held out his forefinger.
'Just there, at the bottom?'
'Of course,' she murmured and undid it.
Two little lines. By the time Lucy had finished them and taken his money, her cheeks were on fire. The second the door tinkled shut, she was rummaging in her bag for her phone. She opened up her text conversation with Josh.
XXX
'Oh shit! Oh fuck!'
Lucy clenched a fist in her hair. Not one, not two, but three. That's how she'd always signed off her conversations with Phil.
'Subtle, Simkins... Really subtle...'
No new messages.
'No shit, Sherlock!'
She cringed, closing her eyes.
The door tinkled open. Lucy blinked up, her eyes widening, mouth falling ajar.
'Hiya Lucy,' he said through a smile.
He was wearing his grey suit, shoulders darkened by the rain, that pink tie she'd always hated.
'What do you want?' she asked haughtily.
She hadn't seen Phil once since he walked out nearly three months ago. That was no minor achievement in a small town like Brixham.
'Relax!' he said, all wide, blue eyes; holding his hands up, fingers splayed. He was smirking, but his cheeks gave him away.
Relax. I've got you...
Lucy remembered Josh's voice, his thighs clamping around her. She snorted back at Phil. In all their dithering six years together, he'd never made her feel that way. Always on tenterhooks, always just shy of neurotic. Never in a million years could he have convinced her to jump out of a perfectly good plane with him.
'I found these...' said Phil, riffling around in the inside pocket of his jacket. 'They were in my car.'
He stalked forward, glancing up at her, placing the contents on the counter. Lucy frowned down, picking up the cd.
Music of the Millennium
She held it by the edges, turning it over. It was scratched to buggery. She threw it down with a clatter. She reached out, picking up the dusty hairclip she didn't even remember, pinching the fastening. It was jammed. She scowled back at Phil.
'Go away.'
'Lucy,' he coaxed, 'don't be like that.'
'If you don't leave now,' she told him flatly, 'so help me God, I'll drag you out of here myself.'
Phil blinked back like she'd just slapped him across the face with a wet mackerel. He evidently hadn't expected this.
'Lucy, I... I care about you—'
'You didn't care about me on Friday night,' she blurted. 'Jack told me you were down the pub with her from chippy.'
Phil scanned the room, eyes lingering on the floor, running a hand through his thin, wet hair.
'Lucy...'
'Out!' she snapped, grabbing the huge bottle of fondant icing, holding it out menacingly, staring him straight in the eye.
'If you don't get out now—'
'OK, OK,' said Phil, hands in the air again. 'Don't get excited. I'm going.'
&nbs
p; Excited? Pfft.
Phil paused at the door, hesitantly looking back.
'You seem different,' he said suspiciously.
'Yeah, well,' Lucy shrugged back. 'Falling nearly three miles down to earth tends to change you a bit.'
She was different all right. She was oozing confidence now.
'I could never do that,' Phil admitted quietly.
'Nobody's asking you to.'
'Lucy—'
'Ta-ta Phil. Take care of yourself.'
The door jangled shut, eventually.
Lucy swept his pitiful excuse for a visit onto the floor. She slammed the tub of fondant down on the counter, flinching as the lid bounced back up.
'Shit!'
Lucy held her white t-shirt out by the hem, scowling down at the slew of dark chocolate. She glanced down to her favourite trainers: it had missed, but it was all over the floor.
Lucy grizzled, dropping to her knees, grabbing a roll of blue tissue from the shelf underneath the counter.
How many times had she fantasised about him walking back in? Just 24 hours ago, it could have had a whole different ending. They probably would have been upstairs already. Even though she knew about Becky from the chip shop, that scabby mare. Even though she always knew deep-down: he wasn't for her.
The door jangled open again.
Oh for f—
'Be with you in a minute,' she called cheerily, mopping at the sticky brown goo.
She glanced at her wristwatch. Ten to five.
You've got five minutes...
'It's OK. Take your time.'
Lucy snorted.
I will!
She went on scrubbing, then froze.
She peeked up through the glass counter top, momentarily transfixed, watching him scanning the shelves. There he was, larger than life, in her little shop. He turned his head. She quickly ducked down.
Her heart thundered, eyes scanning the chocolate fondant smeared floor. For the second time that day, the ground seemed to fall away from her feet.
'Lucy. I can see you, you know.'
She glanced up to the right, into the warped window panes. Josh stood there, waving back.
Lucy closed her eyes. Her chest fluttered.
What's he doing here?
'Hi,' she said, rising slowly; smiling politely, wanting the ground to swallow her up.
'Hi.'
She watched his brow furrow. Lucy's eyes widened. He was staring straight at her chest.
'...Oh!' she exhaled, glancing down at the viscous slick on her white t-shirt. 'It's chocolate,' she explained
'I would hope so,' Josh smirked, quirking an eyebrow.
She pottered around behind the counter, feigning distraction, pretending to straighten the loose chocolates in their perspex trays.
'Was there something in particular you were looking for?' Lucy enquired.
They were already perfectly aligned: curse Jean and her ruthless efficiency.
'Yes.'
Lucy looked up.
'I'd like some peppermints please.'
Her eyes flickered as she caught the wink, her stomach fluttering. Josh shrugged.
'I figure if someone's prepared to choke to death on one at 15,000 feet, they must be pretty good.'
He grinned back goadingly. He was playing with her. Lucy's lips twitched; she narrowed her eyes.
All right, Mr Snow. You're on my territory now. Two can play at that game.
'They're just over there,' she said without missing a beat, raising her left hand, holding it out like an air stewardess going through the safety drills. 'Below the Liquorice and Aniseed Balls, above the Fruit Rocks, between the Humbugs and Mint Crumbles...'
She didn't even need to look.
'Would you like me to show you?' she asked, as if addressing a small child.
Joshua stared back for a moment.
This is my shop. She fought down the grin. That's right. I know my shit.
'No it's OK,' mumbled Josh, running his hand through his wet hair, prowling the shelves. 'I think I can manage.'
'Will that be all?' she asked, smiling innocently as the bag of peppermints rattled down on the counter.
His hair was dark now, dampened by rain, the curls tight to his head. Beads of water trickled down his tanned face.
Please say no... Please don't go...
She watched him pull his wallet from his inside pocket.
‘Was that the personal issue I just saw leaving?'
He said it so gently. Lucy froze, pinned to the spot by his bright green eyes. She fidgeted for a moment, then nodded.
‘Thought so,' he asserted, pulling out a ten pound note. ‘He looks like a bit of a banker.'
Lucy snorted.
‘Estate agent,' she mumbled through a smirk. 'That'll be two seventy nine please.'
She took the money without looking at him.
Josh cocked his head and shrugged.
‘All over then?' he asked.
She tapped away at the cash till, glancing up.
'Yes,' she said firmly, the till drawer shooting out with a clatter, hitting her square in the ribs.
...Ow!
Lucy stiffled the wince, holding the Mona Lisa smile.
Crap!
The front of the till was covered in fondant.
Josh stared at her, lips twitching.
‘Can I ask you something, Lucy?'
She flipped up the sprung metal arm, slipping the ten pound note underneath, flipping it back again with a loud snap, just missing her fingers.
'Uh-huh.'
She stared at the blue digits on black, trying to figure out how to assemble his change.
‘Please don't take this the wrong way.'
Lucy's gaze flicked up. Her stomach lurched.
‘What is it?'
His gaze flickered out of the window to a rain-dashed Fore Street, then quickly back to hers.
‘Are you booking the AFF course because you want to learn how to fly under canopy, or…'
She watched his Adam's apple rise and fall.
‘Or is it because you want to spend time with me?'
Lucy's eyes bulged. She blinked down into the till.
A five pound note, two pound coins, a twenty pence piece and a penny.
She held them out shakily.
‘Because I want to learn to fly!' she squeaked, cheeks firing with colour.
He finally took the money. The till thudded shut, Lucy holding onto the countertop for dear life, her heart doing nineteen to the dozen.
‘Oh…' she heard him say.
She watched him rake a hand through his hair, eyes flickering anywhere but at her, stuffing his change into the front pocket of his combats.
‘Well… that's embarrassing,' he admitted, glancing back briefly with a nervous smile.
Lucy gaped. His cheeks were turning puce. Her heart lurched.
‘Sorry, I must have got the wrong end of the—'
‘Both!' she blurted.
His gaze bounced back up.
‘A bit of both...' she said in barely a whisper, shifting from foot to foot. ‘Quite a lot of both, actually.' She glanced back guiltily. 'Um... Would you like a bag?'
And there it was. That heart splitting grin.
The door of the shop jangled open.
'LUCINDA SIMKINS!'
Oh sweet baby Jesus...
Lucy's heart plummeted.
'Hello Mum.'
'Don't you "hello Mum" me!' Mrs Simkins snarked.
Oh shit... She's mad. Really mad.
'I've had Phil on the phone! Worried sick, he is... What's all this skydiving business?'
It was all Lucy could do not to roll her eyes. She glanced at Josh. He stepped aside, smirking faintly.
Mrs Simkins shook her brolly off, a shimmering haze of righteous indignation. Water spattered the products; she didn't care.
'Mum, calm down,' Lucy warned.
Mrs Simkins stabbed the floor with the point of her umbrella.
&nbs
p; 'Calm down?'
Her voice bounced off the walls.
'Mum, please...'
Lucy placed her hands flat on the counter, closing her eyes, taking a steadying breath.
'It's true,' she murmured, eyes glittering back at her mother. 'Don't be angry with me.'
Joshua's smirk disintegrated. Her voice was a heartfelt plea.
Mrs Simkins stared back at her daughter in stunned disbelief; blue eyes on seamless blue.
'Flying squirrels,' Mrs Simkins breathed.
'Flying squirrels!' Lucy beamed back mischievously.
Mrs Simkins welled up.
'Just like The Queen?' she croaked, dropping the umbrella with a clatter, pressing her hands together, tips of her fingers to her lips.
They'd both been transfixed by the Olympic opening ceremony. Lucy never had the heart to tell her it was Gary Connery in drag.
Lucy stared back and nodded.
'Yes, Mum. Exactly like that.'
'...Oh!'
And it was a sob.
'Oh, my brave little girl!'
Mrs Simkins hurtled towards the counter. Josh shot back instinctively. She reached over the glass, clutching Lucy by the shoulders. She hesitated, looking down disapprovingly at her chocolate smeared top, before planting a wet kiss on her daughter's cheek.
'Mum!' complained Lucy, fighting her way out of her mother's grasp, glancing awkwardly at Josh. 'This is my instructor,' she explained, quirking an eyebrow. 'Mr Snow,' she added sardonically.
