letting out a squeal as the plane suddenly dropped altitude and there came a crash of metal from the nearby galley. “Omigod.”
“It’s only a bit of turbulence. We’ll be okay once we get higher,” Henry reassured her.
“I’m fine.” India grimaced, clenching her fists in terror, as the plane hit another bump. “Actually I’m not,” she muttered.
“Here,” he said, stretching his hand across the screen divider. “Hold my hand.”
Luella carried her iPad into the sitting room, flopped on the couch and zipped open the case. She stared at the accumulation of unopened e-mails from Peter. These last few weeks he had been relentless in his attempts to contact her – turning up on the doorstep at all hours of the night, filling her answering machines with emotionally charged messages. This morning, having slept for a merciful seven hours, Luella braced herself. She would have to respond sooner or later. It may as well be now.
Setting down her coffee mug, she shook a cigarette out of a pack of Marlboro Lights and flicked her thumb furiously on a disposable lighter. It refused to work. Frustrated in the attempt, she aimed the thing, with its tacky image of the Eiffel Tower at the trash basket and threw down the unlit cigarette.
Okay, she thought, opening his latest e-mail. It’s time.
Lu, we must talk. We must. Maybe when you hear what I have to say, you’ll understand. I never set out to hurt you or to deceive you. I would probably have come out sooner if things were different. It’s complicated in all directions and when you’re ready to hear it, I’ll tell you. All I want you to know and believe is that there have been no others. None. I have been in agony for the longest time. I can’t put this in an e-mail. I need to talk to you. Please. Please Lu, let me see you.
Luella read the open page several times.
Okay. Tomorrow. She typed and then paused. Where? They needed to meet some place she could walk away from if she lost control. Their house or local pub was out of the question. She stood up and rifled through a dresser in search of matches. Coming back to the couch, she lit a cigarette and sat watching the smoke curl into the air. She took a couple of drags and then stuffed it into the overspilling ashtray. The park would be best she decided, firing off the rest of the e-mail and pressing ‘send’ before she could change her mind.
After a restless night, Luella showered quickly and sat at her desk dealing with the press requests she had been sent the previous week. She plowed through the mountain of household bills that Peter usually handled.
Funny, she thought, it’s the little things you miss the most.
Just before twelve o’clock, she dragged a comb through her hair, grabbed her scarf and bag and left the house. She walked quickly past the local restaurants and shops at the end of her street, marveling that life was proceeding normally all around her – the usual gaggle of teenagers hanging around the chip shop, the mothers pushing strollers, the homeless guy curled up in a sleeping bag in a doorway.
As she turned into the park, she looked up through the sycamore trees at the remarkably blue sky. Nothing around her on this beautiful summer’s day reflected her inner turmoil. Surely there should be rain, a threat of thunder, something ominous in the atmosphere, she thought, as a couple of kids whizzed past her on bicycles and an ice cream van pulled up discordantly chiming “Greensleeves.” Luella paused by the railings to let a dog walker go past and then, swallowing hard, she approached the bench where Peter stood waiting.
“Hello, Peter,” she said after a few awkward moments of silence. “Shall we walk?”
Luella dug her hands deep in her pocket as they past stragglers and skateboarding teens and the picnickers dotted across the lawns. They followed the gravel path along the side of the lake.
“Lu…” Peter started. “Lu, I am so sorry. I don’t know where to
“It’s only a bit of turbulence. We’ll be okay once we get higher,” Henry reassured her.
“I’m fine.” India grimaced, clenching her fists in terror, as the plane hit another bump. “Actually I’m not,” she muttered.
“Here,” he said, stretching his hand across the screen divider. “Hold my hand.”
Luella carried her iPad into the sitting room, flopped on the couch and zipped open the case. She stared at the accumulation of unopened e-mails from Peter. These last few weeks he had been relentless in his attempts to contact her – turning up on the doorstep at all hours of the night, filling her answering machines with emotionally charged messages. This morning, having slept for a merciful seven hours, Luella braced herself. She would have to respond sooner or later. It may as well be now.
Setting down her coffee mug, she shook a cigarette out of a pack of Marlboro Lights and flicked her thumb furiously on a disposable lighter. It refused to work. Frustrated in the attempt, she aimed the thing, with its tacky image of the Eiffel Tower at the trash basket and threw down the unlit cigarette.
Okay, she thought, opening his latest e-mail. It’s time.
Lu, we must talk. We must. Maybe when you hear what I have to say, you’ll understand. I never set out to hurt you or to deceive you. I would probably have come out sooner if things were different. It’s complicated in all directions and when you’re ready to hear it, I’ll tell you. All I want you to know and believe is that there have been no others. None. I have been in agony for the longest time. I can’t put this in an e-mail. I need to talk to you. Please. Please Lu, let me see you.
Luella read the open page several times.
Okay. Tomorrow. She typed and then paused. Where? They needed to meet some place she could walk away from if she lost control. Their house or local pub was out of the question. She stood up and rifled through a dresser in search of matches. Coming back to the couch, she lit a cigarette and sat watching the smoke curl into the air. She took a couple of drags and then stuffed it into the overspilling ashtray. The park would be best she decided, firing off the rest of the e-mail and pressing ‘send’ before she could change her mind.
After a restless night, Luella showered quickly and sat at her desk dealing with the press requests she had been sent the previous week. She plowed through the mountain of household bills that Peter usually handled.
Funny, she thought, it’s the little things you miss the most.
Just before twelve o’clock, she dragged a comb through her hair, grabbed her scarf and bag and left the house. She walked quickly past the local restaurants and shops at the end of her street, marveling that life was proceeding normally all around her – the usual gaggle of teenagers hanging around the chip shop, the mothers pushing strollers, the homeless guy curled up in a sleeping bag in a doorway.
As she turned into the park, she looked up through the sycamore trees at the remarkably blue sky. Nothing around her on this beautiful summer’s day reflected her inner turmoil. Surely there should be rain, a threat of thunder, something ominous in the atmosphere, she thought, as a couple of kids whizzed past her on bicycles and an ice cream van pulled up discordantly chiming “Greensleeves.” Luella paused by the railings to let a dog walker go past and then, swallowing hard, she approached the bench where Peter stood waiting.
“Hello, Peter,” she said after a few awkward moments of silence. “Shall we walk?”
Luella dug her hands deep in her pocket as they past stragglers and skateboarding teens and the picnickers dotted across the lawns. They followed the gravel path along the side of the lake.
“Lu…” Peter started. “Lu, I am so sorry. I don’t know where to
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