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Authors: Isabelle Merlin

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction/Fairy Tales & Folklore Adaptations

Bright Angel (8 page)

BOOK: Bright Angel
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Weirder than fate

Just as I'd thought, it wasn't comfy at all on the back of the bike, but who cared? I was close to Daniel, half leaning against him, the sun was shining, the holidays stretched happily ahead. In one part of me, I could hardly believe what had happened. In the other, it felt like it was always meant to be this way. I didn't know what anyone else would say about it but it didn't matter anyway. Daniel and I were an item now, no question about it. I didn't think about what would happen once I had to go back to Australia. I didn't think past the next few hours. Daniel had invited me to come to lunch with him and Gabriel. Freddy wouldn't mind, I knew that. Claire would be curious, but she'd not mind either. We'd have lunch and then we'd talk and talk and just be together and...

A car drew up behind us with a skittering of gravel. A familiar voice called out, ‘Hey, there! Looks like hard work.'

Daniel stopped. I got off. Startled, I looked at the driver. ‘Oh, hi, Mick.'

He smiled. ‘Would you and your friend like a lift? You look like you're struggling a bit.'

I looked at Daniel. He shrugged.

‘We can put the bike in the boot,' said Mick cheerfully. ‘Come on, mate. You must be tired, pushing a double weight like that. ‘He grinned at me. ‘And you must have cramps in your legs, holding them out.'

‘It's – it's okay,' I said uncertainly, because Daniel wasn't exactly being forthcoming. But Mick wasn't deterred. He jumped out of the car, stuck his hand out to Daniel and said, in French, ‘Hi, I'm Mick. Mick Stephan. I'm a friend of Sylvie's here.'

Daniel gave me a look. I wanted to say, hey, it's okay, I've only just met him, I hardly know him, but the words stuck in my throat cos they were rude and anyway why should I feel guilty about it? I had done nothing wrong. Then Daniel smiled, and shook Mick's hand and said, in English, ‘Hello. I am Daniel. Daniel Aubrac.'

‘Pleased to meet you, Dan. Hop in. You too, Syl,' said Mick, sounding very Australian right now, more than he'd done in the woods. I felt a naughty little gurgle of laughter rising in my chest. It was such a weird situation. I'd never been in one like that before. Day for firsts, it seemed to me. As I got into the back seat – I preferred to let Daniel take the front – I said, ‘You been hunting UFOs today, Mick?'

‘Just been to Toulouse to check in with the guys,' he responded.

‘Mick works for GEIPAN,' I explained to Daniel. ‘UFO tracking.'

‘I know,' said Daniel, surprisingly. ‘I mean, I hear of GEIPAN. This must be very interesting work, yes?'

‘It is,' said Mick, and launched into pretty much the same spiel he'd given me. I sat back against the seat, feeling relieved. At least Daniel wasn't freezing him out now. Not that he had any call to. None at all. Mick was a nice guy who did interesting stuff. No more. I'd never been attracted to him. I'd not spent much time thinking about him. So different with Daniel – even when I thought I hated him, he'd filled my thoughts.

By the time we got out in the car park in the town, things seemed pretty friendly. When Mick proposed that we might all meet up tomorrow and he'd show us how he put a dossier together for GEIPAN, Daniel accepted without reluctance. He seemed quite relaxed now – a tribute, I suppose, to Mick's natural easiness with people, his laid-back presence. I thought that Daniel's earlier reaction had been perhaps not instinctive jealousy but simple wariness. I remembered what Marc had said. Bad things had happened in Daniel's life. He didn't trust easily. Not really, despite what had happened between us. That was something else. A miracle. A weird clap of thunder. A thing that had been fated to be.

We left Mick in the car park, after making a time to meet the next morning. As Daniel wheeled the bike up the slope and I walked alongside him, he said, ‘He is from Australia. Like you.'

I thought that was a roundabout way of saying I must have known Mick a while, so I explained. ‘Yes. But he's lived in Toulouse for ages. I never met him before yesterday – just sort of tripped over him in the woods – he was working on his thing.' Stupidly, I was blushing, and it annoyed me.

‘I see,' he said, and looked at me very seriously.

My heart raced. I stammered, ‘It's true, Daniel.'

‘Of course it's true,' he said, and smiled. ‘Why would I think it is not? You have a life. Friends. As do I.'

‘Yes,' I mumbled, aware suddenly of a shaft of jealous pain. What if those friends are girls, actually girlfriends, yeah, he's bound to have had heaps, and this is just a holiday romance, like something that'll finish once we go back to our lives, and that's it. Once I would have thought that was just fine cos like you can't expect things to last, can you, specially not holiday romances, but I didn't want to think that now. I couldn't stand it in fact, and it had happened just like that, so quick, maybe it would also end so quick, disappear in a puff of smoke.

‘You look very solemn,' he said to me, and squeezed my hand.

We had reached his house by now. I faltered, ‘I – I just must go and tell Freddy I am having lunch elsewhere.'

‘She will be angry with you? Is this why you look sad?'

‘Oh no. She will be fine,' I gabbled. ‘I'll be back very soon. Don't worry. I'll be quick.'

‘Okay,' he said, raising his eyebrows a little, and I took off like a startled rabbit, feeling like a complete idiot. He was at least a year older than me, and acted a fair bit older. If I kept up that sort of thing, he'd be sure to think I was a gauche kid. Childish. Stupid. Not the sort of person you'd really want a relationship with. Cursing myself all the way, I got home in a bit of a lather. I found Freddy with Claire and Marc in the kitchen, sharing a bottle of wine and getting things ready for lunch.

‘Good walk?' said Marc.

‘You look hot,' observed Claire.

‘Sit down,' said Freddy. ‘We were just waiting for you to–'

‘I've been invited out to lunch,' I said quickly. ‘Is that okay, Freddy?'

‘Who's invited you?' said Claire, frowning.

‘None of your beeswax!'

She glared at me. ‘It is too. We're supposed to be looking after you.'

‘Freddy is. Not you!'

‘Girls!' said Freddy, peaceably. ‘Look, it's fine if you go, Sylvie, but you'd better tell us where to find you, okay?'

‘I'm going to Daniel's,' I said.

‘Who's that?' she said, having clearly forgotten.

Marc explained. Claire stared at me. ‘That guy you were so rude about yesterday? But I thought you couldn't stand–' she began, but she was interrupted by Freddy, who said briskly, ‘That's fine. Have fun. Oh, and take your mobile with you. In case we have to reach you for anything.'

I nodded. I could feel their eyes on me as I went out and knew that they'd be discussing me and Daniel as soon as I was gone, but at least I wouldn't have to hear it. Marc knew him a bit better than anyone else, including me. They'd want him to fill them in, especially Claire. Honestly! I love my sister to bits but she can be a real busybody sometimes. You'd think she was twenty years older than me and not just six! She'd better not try to tell me I hardly knew Daniel. She hardly knew Marc too and she was already looking at him with big adoring eyes.

Shut up, Syl. You can talk, my sensible self scolded me. There you are all weak at the knees already, like the kind of boy-crazy girl you usually despise. Maybe you should be more careful. Take it more slowly. I mean I hadn't fallen in love with him at first sight – no way – but it hadn't taken long. I thought I hated him at first. How wrong can you be?

I was at his place now. The front door had this huge brass knocker on it. It made a big noise when I banged it. But it took a little while for the door to be answered. And it wasn't Daniel, but the Spanish-looking woman who stood on the threshold, not looking very welcoming at all.
‘Oui?'
she snapped.

‘Good day. I'm Sylvie Mandon,' I said in French, trying to sound grown-up and firm. ‘Friend of Daniel. We go out to lunch.'

‘He not go now,' she said impassively. Her French was strongly accented and not a whole lot better than mine.

My throat thickened. ‘Please, just get Daniel.'

She looked at me, then to my relief, nodded. ‘You come in.' She waved me towards an open door. ‘Wait here. I find Daniel.' She closed the door after me.

The room into which she'd ushered me looked like a combination of library and living room. A few glass-fronted book cabinets, full of old-looking books, some leather sofas, pictures, a small desk in a corner with a laptop sitting on it. I sat on the edge of one of the sofas and waited. Five minutes, ten minutes. I was about to get up and look at the books when Daniel came in.

His face lit up. He came straight to me and gave me a hug. The feel of his arms around me, the warmth of his skin, made me thrill with delight. I hugged him back, tight. He held me out from him with a smile. ‘Sylvie, I am sorry to keep you waiting. Gabriel is not well. I must wait till he falls asleep.'

‘Oh, no,' I said, ‘What's wrong with him?'

‘Nothing much. Pilar – that is his nanny, you meet her – she thinks it is just a little cold. But he is tired. He needs sleep. So he cannot come out to lunch today – he is disappointed because he wants to see you too – I tell him you are coming – and so we eat lunch here, yes? Then after his
sieste
maybe you can talk to him?'

‘Oh, sure,' I said, a little uncertainly, because I wasn't sure why Gabriel would want to talk to me, and what I'd say.

Daniel saw my expression. He smiled. ‘Gabriel would like a big sister rather than a big brother, I think.'

‘Oh,' I said, none the wiser but what did it matter? I had no idea how little kids worked really and if Gabriel had taken to me that was good anyway because clearly Daniel was devoted to him, you could tell, and anyone who didn't get on with Gabriel wouldn't get on with Daniel either.

We had lunch on the private, sunny terrace at the back of the house. Cold chicken with a garlicky sort of mayonnaise, salad, and sweet crepes to finish, with lemon and sugar and cream. And lovely, cold, homemade sweet mint tea with ice. It was delicious but what was even more delicious was sharing it with Daniel, just the two of us facing each other over the table, under the striped umbrella the maid had put up for us. (Yes, they had a maid as well as a nanny, and a cook, and goodness knows what else.) We ate and laughed and toasted each other with the mint tea, and talked. And talked. I told him about my parents and their work in the Territory and how Claire and I lived in the city, and about Freddy and her work, and about the things I did back home. I told him about my clips and my You Tube channel and he said he wanted me to show him. But I did not say anything about the real reason why we were on holidays here. I just said Freddy had invited us. I said nothing about Thomas Radic. Not yet. It was too new, too fragile, what we had, to cloud it with that sort of dark and terrible thing.

He told me about London and about how he was expected to eventually go to some important university like Oxford or Cambridge but was having a gap year off before deciding. (By that I knew he'd finished school at least last year.) He talked about how Gabriel had settled into England better than he had and how many friends the little boy had, and he talked about his mother and how beautiful she'd been, and how loving. He told me about how his parents had met. His father, Martin Aubrac, was a carpenter who'd worked on his grandparents' house and the two families had not approved at first of the marriage, and not because as you'd think one was white and one was black but because his mother's father was a professor at the university and his father's father was a farmer and they didn't have the same kind of politics or ideas on most things. Anyway they came round to it in the end once Daniel had been born, which was some years after the marriage. He said that he'd been to Senegal with his parents once when he was ten, to visit the family that was left there and that he'd liked it a lot but it was funny ‘because, you know, in France people say I'm black but in Senegal they said I was white'. He said his grandfathers were both dead now and his grandmother on his mother's side too but his grandmother on his father's side was still going but she was old and rather sick and so had not been able to take them in when their mother died. ‘My uncle, Benedict Udo, my mother's brother, insisted we come to him,' he said, and that was the first time he mentioned his uncle. I asked him then if he got on with his uncle, and he shrugged and said they got on okay. But I saw an expression come into his eyes that made me think things weren't okay at all. I didn't want to push things though. Like I said, it was all so new and fragile.

Well, after that we took a bit of a walk around the garden and in a secluded bower thing, hidden from sight by acres of wisteria, we held each other and kissed and he told me I was beautiful and I told him he was gorgeous. It's so easy to do and not so easy to describe because time passes so differently and your whole body's on fire and your limbs are heavy and your ears are buzzing so you hardly notice anything else. It was like those perfect moments in St-Just, except that now it wasn't so surprising, not that I had exactly got used to it. Don't get me wrong!

After a while he said he wanted to see my clips so we went back inside and I brought up my You Tube channel on the laptop and showed him. He was really nice about them, said they were really good and that I had a lot of talent. Well, you know, when people love you they say things like that – Mum and Dad and Claire had said it, for instance, and Jessie – but coming from him it was extra special and though I wasn't sure if he really meant it, I mean, I think he meant it but he wasn't an expert or anything, it made me glow all over with a pride I hadn't felt for a while. He liked the Houdini clip and the angel ones – and was amazed that I had given the same name to my interviewed angel as Gabriel did to his guardian one – but the one he liked best of all was the one I'd made on my
Waiting
poem. To my embarrassment, he insisted on reading the poem out aloud, his beautiful French accent somehow making my words sound different, as if someone else had written them:

BOOK: Bright Angel
9.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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