by Kahn, Denise
“How long will you be in Paris?” François, who was from Paris Match, asked, walking quickly to stay at her side.
“Just a few days,” she said. “And then Madrid.”
Dozens of questions were shouted at her. Davina, remembering to smile, gave short answers and did not once let up on her pace until she reached the VIP Lounge. It wasn’t until then that she knew the woman in the hat was still with her. And so was the man in the black T-shirt, but the distance between them kept growing. He obviously was not used to fighting members of a hungry press.
Jacques was momentarily confused to see Davina with her arm around a woman wearing what he could have sworn was the hat he had given Davina to wear.
“Merde! Davina, who’s this? What’s going on?”
“Help me, Jacques. Her husband’s trying to kill her.”
“Ex-husband,” the woman breathlessly corrected her.
“Shit,” Jacques muttered again.
They helped her onto a couch.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Jacques reminded her.
Davina took the hat off the woman’s head.
“Who is she?” Jacques demanded.
“I don’t know,” Davina said, and they both looked at the stranger. She was pretty but her beauty was eclipsed by her anxiety She was distraught and tense. Her almond-shaped eyes were a light hazel with specks of green. Her lips were small and perfectly shaped. She had a slightly upturned nose and her skin was smooth but very drawn.
“Jean. My name is Jean. Thank you. You saved my life.”
“Now, what are you going to do?” Davina asked her.
“I don’t know,” Jean said and began to cry.
“Davina,” Jacques pulled her away. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“We can’t just leave her here.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I saw her husband, ex-husband. She says he’s going to kill her.”
“Ma chérie…” Jacques began, but Davina had already made up her mind.
“Your passport?”
Jean handed Davina her purse. It was as if the simple task of searching in her own pocketbook was too much for her.
“I’m leaving on my own plane. I’m willing to get you on it to Europe, if that helps.”
“Yes, it will, thank you.”
“Davina!” Jacques said exasperated. He was a man who loved to plan everything meticulously, down to the last detail. Jean was no small detail.
Davina sat in the seat beside Jean on the airplane. As they taxied to the runway, the cockpit door was open. Davina asked their captain, Adam Spencer, to leave the door open on takeoffs and landings. These, to Davina, were the best parts of a flight.
Adam Spencer’s plane, the Black Angel, which had originally been chartered by Jacques for Monique, now flew for Davina. The lounge area doubled as a dining room with a kitchen attached to it. There were three tiny bedrooms. One for Davina, one for Jacques, which doubled as a communications room, and another for the occasional guest. They each had a set of bunk beds, a nightstand, a fold-down desk and a small closet. The plane also had a shower and two lavatories.
“We’ve been cleared for take-off,” Adam Spencer announced, pushing down on the throttles. “Assume positions!”
As the engines rumbled loudly, Jean groaned. Davina saw that she was hyperventilating. “Is this your first time on an airplane?” Yes, it was. “That’s just the sound of the engines,” Davina explained. “And we need those”
Jean closed her eyes trying to block out the unfamiliar sounds of the DC-3.
“Those are the wheels coming up,” Davina said, patting her hand. “It’s very normal. You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a pilot.”
Jean let out a scream practically making Davina jump in her seat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Are...are...we...in the...air?” She asked hesitating on the last word.
“Yes,” Davina replied.
“Holy shit!”
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Davina asked again.
“This is just a little plane, right?”
Davina realized that Jean hadn’t opened her eyes since they lifted off.
“There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of,” Davina said, trying her best to convince Jean. “Oh, yes, you can open your eyes and take your seat belt off. Would you like a drink or a soda?” she added, pushing a button on her armrest.
The Black Angel’s only flight attendant answered her call.
“Bianca, we have a first-timer,” Davina said.
This was Bianca’s maiden voyage as crew member on the Black Angel. Adam and Eric met her on Malta. She was a seamstress and costume designer by trade, skills in great demand on the island for its grand festivals, especially Carnival, which was held on the four days before Ash Wednesday and Mnarja, a two-day harvest festival in June. Bianca, who was Maltese by birth, was eager to expand her horizons beyond the tiny island. While she made this known to her new friends Adam and Eric, she did not expect to be given an opportunity so soon. Adam hired her as an ‘assistant.’ He wasn’t exactly sure what this meant except that on the plane, she would be the flight attendant. The Black Angel was hauling people now, not cargo. And who knows, Adam thought, maybe Eric would fall in love with her. She was no Sally.
When Davina learned that Bianca’s real talents were in the costume business, she offered her a job designing the gowns she would wear for her concerts. Bianca accepted the challenge without hesitation.
Jean opened one eye and slowly looked around.
Bianca came up to them.
“Yes Davina, would you ladies like a drink or a snack maybe?”
“Well, what do you say to a refreshment?” Davina asked Jean.
“You have a bar up here?”
“We sure do,” Bianca said.
“Jesus, I must be dreaming. How about a Vodka? You guys got that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Davina, the usual for you?”
“Si, Bianca, grazie,” she replied.
“Uh, that wasn’t English, was it.” Jean asked.
“No, Bianca is Maltese but I don’t speak the language so we communicate in Italian. It keeps me practicing, although Bianca speaks English as well.”
“You speak a foreign language?” She asked incredulously.
“I do.”
Bianca arrived with drinks.
“Here we are. One Vodka and one Coca-Cola,” she said placing the drinks on the coffee table in front of them.
“Wow, that was fast!” Jean said impressed.
Davina laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying this innocent woman’s company. Or was she really that innocent? Well, we’ll find out soon enough, she thought, as soon as the computer spits out the information.
“I’m sorry,” Jean said, trying to keep her eyes open. “It’s been a long day.”
“That’s alright. I understand.”
“You’re very kind.” Jean began to breathe normally.
“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Davina Walters.”
“Hi. I know, I think. Don’t you sing?”
“I do.”
“I saw you on the Tonight Show. You were great.”
“Thank you. Would you like a tour of the plane?”
“You mean, we can move around in this thing?” She asked, her eyes growing with astonishment.
“Sure, come on, I think you’ll like it.” Davina said getting up from her seat. “Here, let me help you with your seatbelt.” She unfastened it. “There, now let me show you around.” The DC-3 had been remodeled to Davina’s specifications. Acting as a tour guide, she began: “This is the lounge area. It doubles as dining and conference room. Next is the serving area, kitchen, and I’m sure you will note the bar.
“You cook in this crate?” Jean asked.
“Well, we really don’t like starving, especially on long flights like this one.”
“Oh my God! You mean we
’re going to be up in the air for a long time?”
“About eight hours. It’s not too bad, and we really couldn’t just stop, we’re over the ocean.”
Jean let out a groan. “Oh my God!”
“Now what’s wrong?” Davina asked beginning to worry.
“I can’t swim,” she said flatly.
Davina laughed. “You won’t have to, and even if something did happen to the plane, there are life rafts and all of us on board are excellent swimmers. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Come on, let’s go see the rest,” she said guiding her toward the rear.
“This is your room.”
“My room?” Jean asked.
“Yup.”
“How do you mean?”
The room was small but cozy. It had everything a guest could want or need. A large bed, night stand, bookshelf with paperbacks and magazines, a small desk and chair, and its own bathroom.
“Wow, it’s beautiful.”
“Well, as long as you’re with us, it’s yours. I hope you like it.
“This has got to be a dream. Do I like it, she asks. Oh, it’s beautiful,” Jean said, repeating herself.
“Good, I’m glad.”
Moving along they entered a small room filled with computers. “This is our communications room. We conduct most of our business from here. And this is Jacques. I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced.” Jacques had been staring at one of the computer screens. He stood up and kissed her hand.
“Enchanté, Mademoiselle, I am very pleased to meet you,” he said with a smile. “You are right Davina, we hadn’t been introduced. I only had the pleasure of carrying the young lady when she was not feeling well. I do hope you are better. You seem to be. I am glad,” Jacques said in his charming French manner. “But now please excuse me, some information I have been waiting for is coming in.” He turned back to the computer.
“Uh...” Jean was about to thank him, but he was already busy.
Exiting the communications room, Jean asked Davina: “He’s not American either is he?” She had been overwhelmed by his manner.
“Jacques? No, he’s French. As a matter of fact we’re like a little United Nations up here. Captain Adam Spencer is English; Eric Shannon, his co-pilot is Irish. I know that sounds a little odd, but believe me they are the closest of friends. Then we have Bianca, whom you already know, is from Malta, and I of course am American. And in the back there are three more rooms,” she continued, “one for me, one for Jacques, and a spare one in case one of the crew should want to rest. Let’s go back up front so I can show you the cockpit and our drivers. “Gentlemen, this is our new friend Jean. Jean, this is our pilot Captain Adam Spencer, and our co-pilot Eric.”
Jean let out a scream. The men practically jumped out of their seats.
“What is it?” Davina asked, really not knowing what to expect.
“There’s no one flying the plane,” she said trembling and pointing a finger at the controls. They all laughed.
“The auto pilot is on. It’s flying itself you see,” Eric said smiling.
“Oh.”
“Okay, thanks guys,” Davina said to the men. “Jean, would you like another drink? Or maybe sleep some?”
“Sounds great, yes, thank you.”
They sat down and had another drink.
“I’ll be right back,” Davina said.
“I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”
“Good girl.”
Davina went to see Jacques.
“Your stray is an alley cat,” Jacques said. “She’s been in jail.”
“For what?”
“Assault.”
“How do you know? Are you sure?”
“Airport security sent it.”
“I’ll talk to her, try to get more information.”
“Be careful.”
“I will. Jacques, see what you can find out about her husband, ex-husband.”
Davina had seen a container of pills in Jean’s purse when she looked in it for her passport. At the time, she didn’t think this was so unusual. But now, she wondered, although she didn’t tell Jacques. It didn’t seem important enough, and Jacques might make too much of this probably insignificant bit of information.
“How are you doing?” Davina asked.
“Much better. I think I’m getting used to this. I’m just a little overwhelmed I guess.”
“Jean, may I ask you something? Your husband…”
“Ex-husband.”
“Yes, who is he?”
Jean lost her smile. “His name is Simon. Simon Grady. Fast talker, fast temper. More than that. He’s sick. If I had stayed at the airport, I wouldn’t be alive now. I know that. You don’t realize what you’ve done. You’ve saved my life.”
♫
LONDON
CHAPTER 12
Saving Jean’s life was all well and good, Jacques argued, but now it was time to say good-bye. But the woman had no money, no clothes other than the ones she wore, Davina argued, she didn’t even have a hairbrush. But Jacques was adamant. Give her some money and say good-bye. He reminded Davina that this was the first tour of her career. He did not want anything to screw it up, to make it anything less than perfect. Tonight Davina was singing at the Royal Albert Hall with the Royal Family in attendance. They were not about to bring a criminal into one of the most prestigious theaters in the world.
Davina did not believe Jean was a criminal. She could not imagine this frail, beautiful woman committing a violent act. But she knew Jacques was very sensible and had the best of intentions, and those were for her benefit. She agreed that she would give Jean money, enough money. But outside the Heathrow terminal when it was time to part ways, Davina decided to take Jean shopping.
“You be careful,” Jacques said to her in French as he opened the door of a taxi.
“Come on, Jean,” Davina said. “Let’s buy some clothes.” She winked at Jacques and followed Jean into the back seat.
In no time, Jean lost her composure. But this time, it only made Davina laugh. "In England they drive on the left side of the road, which is why the steering wheel is on the right. You’ve never been here.”
"I’ve never been out of Florida,” Jean replied, shaking her head. “You must think I’m…” She did not finish.
"Well, Europe is very old. Civilizations began here. The Europeans are very proud of their history and traditions. Europe really is very beautiful. Every country has its own character and color, and language of course. I’ve spent most of my life in Europe. I'm really very fond of it.”
Davina asked the driver to go past Buckingham Palace before going on to Mayfair, London's shopping Mecca.
“Look at those big black hats!” Jean said, looking at a royal palace guard, standing at attention on duty outside a gate.
“They’re trained not to move, not even to blink,” Davina said.
“How long do they have to stay that way?”
“Quite a while.”
“Oh, that poor man!”
“I guess they get used to it.”
“That they do,” the cab driver interjected, “but every once in a while, one of those poor sods faints from the heat of those hats.” The driver had plenty to say about the royal palace after that. Jean asked who else lived there because it was so big. He was a real dynamo.
Davina tried to pay the driver but he would not accept any money. “'Twas me pleasure driving ya 'round me city and ya said such nice words ‘bout us. T’wouldn't be right proper seeings I had such a celebrity. No sir, but if I could be so bold as to ask ya, Miss Davina, for your autograph. Well, for me wife, that is. I'd be eternally grateful, I would."
“My good man, it is always wonderful coming back to lovely London and her people. It would be my pleasure." Davina signed the small note pad the driver handed her. "Would you and your wife like to attend the performance this evening?”
“Dear Mary an’ Joseph, would that really be possible?”
“Y
es.” Davina laughed. “What’s your name?"
“Wright, James Wright."
“Very well, James, the tickets will be under your name. Eight o'clock at the Royal Albert. And thank you again."
“Bless your heart, Miss D. Ta!"
They waved at the cabby as he drove off.
“That was so sweet," Jean said.
“Yes, the English are so nice."
“I mean you. You’re so nice. You didn't have to do that."
“I know, but look how happy it made him. And it made me just as happy."
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Davina blushed. “Stop. You’re making me feel almost saintly.”
“Maybe you are.”
“Come on,” Davina said walking in front of Jean to hold open the door of an elegant shop on Saville Row. “What about you, would you like to see the concert tonight?”
Jacques greeted Davina and, to his surprise, Jean at the Royal Albert Hall. The huge Victorian amphitheater was resplendent in red and gold with statues of Albert, Queen Victoria’s beloved, everywhere. The theater was a work of art.
“Good evening, ladies, how are you?" he asked, helping them with all their packages.
“Wonderful,” Jean said. “Davina’s a terrific tour guide."
“Yes, she is," Jacques said, looking at Davina. "The Royal Family will be attending. It has been confirmed.”
“Before I forget, Jacques, will you please leave two tickets at the box office for a Mr. James Wright, good seats. Thank you, chéri."
“No problem," Jacques said and he turned to Jean. “Davina will be taking a nap as soon as she finishes rehearsing. “
“Jean, you might want to take a nap yourself,” Davina said. “Jacques can get you a room.”
“Certainly,” Jacques said. “Follow me.”
Davina’s six principal musicians, the ones who always performed with her, were warming up. They always arrived a couple of days before a performance to coordinate with the local musicians who made up the balance of the orchestra. They greeted Davina at the round stage in the center of the theater. There were still four hours before the concert, plenty of time to rehearse.
