John Davis - Seize the Reckless Wind

It smelt of her, that faint, woman-body smell of powder, perfume. Only three garments hung there. Dresses she would wear before she left. All her shoes gone, her sexy high heels, her boots, summer sandals, all gone into those cardboard crates that had disappeared. To fly, fly away, a whole life flying away, off to another continent, for other lovers to know. Her dressing table had almost nothing on it. He pulled open her underwear drawers. There were just two pairs of panties left. Gone were her stockings and suspender belts, her slips and bras. Into one of the suitcases to fly, fly away, to other lovers.

He turned slowly out of the naked room. He walked down the passage, into Cathy’s. He stopped. Almost everything of hers was gone. Off the floors, the shelves, all her toys and colouring books gone, the pictures all gone off the walls: just one teddy bear left on her neatly-made bed. The room was empty, childless. He walked slowly in, and laid himself down on her bed, and he put his arm across his eyes; and his heart broke, and the tears ran silently down his face.

That long, bad weekend he just wanted to turn his face to the wall, to be in a dark place, to hide. On Saturday Dolores telephoned to ask if he was coming in, but really to find out if he was all right. He just sat in the kitchen, staring at nothing, drinking beer. Saturday night was very bad. He woke up at three a.m. He got up, tried to work, but he couldn’t. Finally he got a beer and sat in the dark kitchen again. On Sunday there was a persistent knocking on the door. Finally he got up and opened it; there stood Dolores, in her tracksuit.

‘Is there anything I can get for you? A barbecue chicken?’

‘I’m O.K., Dolores.’

‘You look like hell. Shall I get a relief pilot for tomorrow?’

‘No, I’ll be all right.’

‘When this nonsense is finally over.’

Then she put her arms around him, and held him tight; and with the feel of her womanness and sympathy the tears choked him, then suddenly she kissed him. Hard and fierce, as if she wanted to bite him, then her fingers went to her zip and she said, ‘I guess we’ve got to do this – for your good. And mine.’

He backed off, half shocked, half guilty, and wanted to protest that everything was all right with his marriage …

‘If you’re worried about being my boss, don’t be; I’ll pretend it never happened.’ She unzipped her tracksuit and came towards him. He held her again, rigidly. He closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She stared at him, then slumped against the table, her magnificent breasts free.

‘Wow! I don’t know any man who’d knock back an offer that strong. Are you really that hung up on her? Or do I need a bath, I’ve been jogging, dammit!’

‘Dolores …’

‘But you went to bed with her.’ She nodded in the direction of The Rabbit.

He stared. ‘She told you that?’

‘No, but the word’s out.’

He felt absolutely unreasonable panic. ‘Well, the word is wrong! God, what a town.’

‘There’s more adultery here than there are passengers. Pomeroy loves it.’ She held up her hands, and got up. ‘O.K., I’ll go now.’ She looked at him sullenly. ‘Can’t I buy you a beer at The Rabbit? Come on, they’ll be singing Christmas carols.’

Christmas! ‘I’m fine, thank you for coming.’

‘I wish I had,’ she said. ‘More important, I wish you had …’

She left, jogging through the forest, and blew him a truculent kiss. But an hour later she was back, in her car, and a little tipsy. ‘I want to put my case again.’ And she unzipped her tracksuit purposefully; but just then there was a knock on the door. He went to it, with relief, while Dolores hastily zipped up; and in walked Val Meredith, whose husband sometimes flew for Redcoat. In fact he was flying one of the Redcoat planes right that moment. ‘Hullo, I’ve come to invite you to Sunday lunch.’ Then she saw Dolores smiling at her icily. ‘Woops, sorry!’

After she left Dolores said, ‘Not Val Meredith, is it?’

‘No,’ he sighed. He wondered how the hell Val Meredith knew Shelagh was away.

‘O.K.,’ Dolores said, ‘the Florence Nightingale in me is cooled.’ She got up to go, fed up. ‘But do you see? What fun life could be?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Dolores? …’ Then he shook his head. ‘Forget it. I don’t want to know.’

She looked at him. ‘You mean has Shelagh? …’ She put her hands on her hips, wearily. ‘No,’ she said. I haven’t heard even a whisper about her playing around. And believe me, I’d tell you if I had.’

He was a bit better on Monday, but Dolores had arranged a relief pilot. He did not work on Tuesday and Wednesday, so he could be with Cathy. He did not want to let her out of his sight. He played with her in her room. He had to go into the village so he took her to a tea-room and bought her icecream, as much as she wanted, so he could have her to himself, listen to her. He did not want to take her home; she would no longer be alone with him. He bathed her and sat with her while she had her supper. Then he had to let her go to bed. He sat with her until she was asleep, just looking at her. Finally, he had to leave her alone, and then he did not know what to do with himself. He sat in the kitchen and drank beer and tried to read the newspapers, while Shelagh cooked dinner between going upstairs to do the last of her packing. They were polite to each other, even kind. Sometimes she just touched him in passing, though she did not want to start anything. She showed genuine interest in the airline.

‘We’re having a record month,’ he said.

‘Great. That’s three in a row.’ She sighed. ‘Well, you all deserve it. But, truly, don’t buy a third Canadair. Get rid of the Britannia, but don’t replace her.’

‘We’re talking about doing passenger charters with the Britannia.’

‘But she’s such a mess inside.’

‘Tart her up a bit. Quick Change seating, and so forth.’

‘But you need wide-bodies for passenger work. Like Freddie Laker.’

‘It’s easier to fill up a small plane than a big one.’

‘Don’t you think Freddie knows what he’s doing?’

‘He’s a genius. But he’ll come unstuck with all these wide-bodies he’s buying. Small is beautiful.’

‘Remember’ that if you’re thinking of building a bloody great airship, darling.’

It touched him when she used the endearment. Another time she said: ‘I really do think airships are a wonderful idea. So romantic. It’s just …’ She waved her hand. ‘I just don’t believe in them. For all the obvious reasons. And I think you’re …’ She decided not to finish.

‘Wasting my time?’

‘Oh, you’re wasting yourself. You’re a brilliant barrister – everybody says so. But you’re an incurable romantic , darling – your head literally in the clouds.’ She sighed. ‘You’re going to lose every penny you make, and end up a broken man, like Malcolm Todd.’

He smiled. ‘I think he’s a genius.’

She smiled wearily. ‘Of course you do. Birds of a feather.’

They slept in the same bed, but did not touch each other. He lay in the darkness, pretending to sleep, and with all his heart he yearned to reach out and take her in his arms and tell her he loved her, and beg her not to leave. But he could not. Maybe she was also pretending to be asleep, feeling the same. But no. You can feel these things. Maybe she was waiting for him to break, tell her she could come back after she had done her thing, and God knows there were times when he nearly did. On that last Friday morning he awoke before dawn, found himself lying against her, his hand holding her breast; and for a moment, in his half-sleep, he was completely happy. Then he came back to reality, and his heart cracked. He got up, straight away, racked, slammed on the shower, the water beating away his tears. He got dressed, and left the dark cottage. He did not know where he was going; he only knew he could not stay there, waiting for them to wake up and leave. He walked through the woods, down the road, towards Redcoat House. He unlocked the door, and stood there. He could not work. He started walking again. It was getting light when he got back to the cottage. He opened the front door, and her suitcases were lined up. Shelagh was standing there, and he looked at them, and he broke. He leant in the doorway, and the tears rolled down his face, and he reached out and took her in his arms, and whispered, ‘Please come back …’