Juliet returned to her camera. He appeared first at the edge of the little silver screen, an arm and shoulder, a glimpse of his face, then gone again. She moved the camera and caught him as he executed a leap of considerable distance from one tower to another, his hands grabbing the rail, knees bent, feet fastening on to the side of the tower, then a twist and he let go, dropped soundlessly on to the soft surface, rolled head-over-heels and stood up in one smooth movement.
Eventually Andrea spoke. ‘This is fantastic, Ju.’
‘Yes, isn’t it.’
Another drop of silence, then Juliet felt Andrea’s elbow poke into her side. ‘Which one is he then?’
‘Over there. The one half way up those steps.’ Juliet indicated the general direction with a slant of her head, then instinctively shrunk down an inch or two.
‘What, the one with the dark brown hair and the body of an angel? Gosh, Ju, he’s gorgeous! Doesn’t he know it, too.’
Juliet didn’t reply. Her fingers felt clumsy on the camera’s buttons as she switched it to video mode.
Later, as Andrea drove them home, Juliet clicked through the photos she’d taken, shielding the little screen with her hand against the sun. She’d captured him face on as he swung down from a high bar, the muscles of his arms taut with the strain of taking his weight, his body arching forwards in preparation for the perfect landing. She wondered what kind of a father he was destined to be – a distant, occasional father, like Charlton, or, in the unlikely event of a sea change, an ever-present one.
Or perhaps he would be no kind of father at all.
Suddenly she felt a swift, sharp pang of loss on Jonno’s behalf. However badly he’d behaved, he didn’t deserve that.
26
‘Can’t you keep still?’
Juliet made bold, sweeping strokes with her pencil, capturing the strong outline of Gray’s shoulders before they settled into an altogether different position.
He twisted about on the wooden chair. ‘I’ve got an itch. It’s a very itchy business.’ Narrowing his eyes, he reached behind him and rubbed hard with his thumb at the place between his shoulder blades.
Juliet relaxed for a moment, letting the pad drop to her lap, and gazed out on to the roof terrace. The tiles gleamed in the sun after last night’s rain. The trough she’d planted last autumn was beginning to show colour now, little spears of yellow and purple and creamy white, as the crocuses pushed themselves through. Narcissi and grape hyacinths in the tubs were not far behind. An early Spring, the forecasters said. It was her favourite season, when everything was shiny and new and full of possibility.
Gray cleared his throat. ‘I’m all yours when you’re ready.’
‘If you’re sure.’
She raised the pad and began to add detail to the collar of his open-necked shirt, visualizing the finished portrait, the final piece of work for her Open House exhibition. It would hang in the dining room, along with the drawing of Andrea at the dressing table, a painting of Rachel at seven, holding her first, enormous, tennis racquet, and another of her parents in the garden at Oakmere Crescent that she’d taken from an old photograph. Naturally, none of these special pieces would be for sale.
‘Will you need me again this afternoon?’ Gray asked, a while later. ‘Only I promised Rachel a game of tennis at the sports centre when she gets back from Sarah’s.’
She looked up from her pad. ‘No, it’s all right. You two go ahead. I’ve got all I want.’ She smiled. Gray’s eyes met hers as he smiled slowly back.
All I want, yes. She felt the familiar fluttery sensation as the baby turned and settled again. All I want, and more.
And about time too, her mother said.
Note from the author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for buying ‘Falling to Earth’ - I do hope you’ve enjoyed it.
If so, may I ask you to think about leaving a review on Amazon? Reviews not only help raise the book’s profile – invaluable to me as a first-time novelist - but give potential future readers a deeper insight as to what the book is about.
Best wishes,
Deirdre
(follow me on Twitter @deirdrelpalmer)
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Falling to Earth Page 27
