Breakdown (34 page)

“Play it,” Pauline said, and tried to hand the CD to Brian, but Chris took it from her.

“No.”

“Play it for her, Chris,” Brian urged. “It’s brilliant.”

“Not right now,” Chris said. He put the CD on the bottom of the stack, his eyebrows drawn down. Brian looked at him strangely but let it go. He went back into the sitting room.

“I’ve never heard any of this, except that first album,” Pauline said to Chris.

He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Some other time, okay?”

Brian came back with a big photo album. He grinned. “I’ve got pictures!”

* * *

Chris kept hold of Pauline’s hand and led her across the yard in the dark to the gatehouse where Alan and Vivian lived. He knocked on the door.

Alan answered. “Ah, good evening, sir, madam. Your table is ready.”

He stepped aside to let them into the main room of the little house. Only one lamp was lit. Some furniture had been pushed back to make space for a small table with a candle, and cutlery for two. Alan helped Pauline with her coat.

Pauline’s mouth watered at the smell in the air. Chris was grinning.

“What is this?” she asked under her breath.

“You’ll see.”

“Right this way,” Alan said, and ushered them the five paces over to the table. He held the chair for Pauline.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I take it we’re not having supper with the others?”

“Nope. Just us,” Chris said.

Alan produced a bottle of wine and gave it to Chris to pour. He inclined his head. “Your dinner should be ready momentarily.” He turned on his heel and went through another door, presumably into the kitchen.

Chris’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “Wine, my dear?”

“What is it I smell? It’s fantastic. What is all this?”

“Do you remember last year, after that disastrous Christmas party at the pub? When I should have kissed you? Hell, I can’t believe how much time I wasted not kissing you.”

“After the party?” Pauline prompted. Bits and pieces of Christmas came to her in a jumble.

“We were walking home, and I asked you what you wanted for Christmas, and you said—”

Pauline laughed. “A pizza!”

“Well, it’s taken me nearly a year, but you’re going to get your pizza. Happy Christmas, Paulie. Early.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“And no onions, because I plan to breathe on you later, heavily.”

“I’m looking forward to that as much as the pizza.”

“Wow, I’m not used to this,” Chris said and shifted in his seat.

“Used to wha—? Oh.” Pauline put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Not at all. Bloody fantastic. I may go insane when you leave tomorrow.”

That made Pauline’s heart lurch. “Let’s not mention that, okay?” She picked up her wineglass and held it up. “To tonight.”

“Tonight,” Chris echoed, and clinked against hers.

* * *

Pauline snuggled closer to Chris under the covers, moved her leg against his, ran her fingers along his chest.

“That was nice, tonight,” she said.

“The pizza?”

“Yes, but I meant tea. The picture album. The stories.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I could see it, that you two were mates.”

“We were.”

“I can see why you missed him so much.”

“I think I blew all that way out of proportion,” Chris whispered.

“No, you didn’t,” she assured him, and kissed him gently. “Why wouldn’t you play me that song?”

He turned his head toward her in the dark. “It was Sophie’s song. She was in the studio when I recorded it. I never sang it unless she was in the audience.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand,” Pauline said. “It’s all right. Brian doesn’t know that, does he?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Chris got his arms around her, held her close.

“Someday I’ll write you a song,” he said.

“And will you sing it to me, too?”

“I’ll try. Don’t know if I still can.”

“I’ll let you practice if you need to.”

“I’d like to practice something else, now.”

“Yes, please. Practice makes perfect,” Pauline murmured.

* * *

Pauline woke up slowly, the crisp white sheet against her cheek, her arm bumping Chris, warm beside her. Enough light found its way past the curtains to illuminate his face. In Breton, she’d grown used to seeing it carefully controlled, masklike in its neutrality. Now, relaxed in sleep, the strong lines of Chris’s face seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

She slipped out of bed and went to the loo. The smell of sausage cooking wafted up from the kitchen downstairs along with the faint sound of voices and the scrape of a chair. She tiptoed back across the hall to Chris’s room. He turned his head when she opened the door.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, sliding back in beside him.

“I expect we’ll have to get up soon.” His hand found hers beneath the covers. His eyes stared into hers. “Michael’s coming today.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

She caressed his face. “They need me at home.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, you seemed quite content before I got here,” she half joked.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t know what I was missing,” he said, pulling her closer, kissing her neck, her shoulder, her throat.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Hey, you two,” came Jon’s voice. “It’s gone seven. Sorry.”

“Yes, thank you very much!” Chris called out, and continued grazing. He unbuttoned her top. Pauline stifled a giggle.

“All right,” she said, “don’t get yourself all in a stew.”

“Too late. I’m thoroughly stewed.”

“We have to get up,” she insisted and tried to roll away from him. He grabbed her tight, threw a leg over her.

“No, wait.” He kissed her lips, pulled her to him. “Ten minutes. We can take ten minutes. Please, don’t get up yet.”

She didn’t really want to get up. Michael likely would be late, anyway. She snuggled against him and kissed him back. They took twenty minutes.

* * *

It was half-eight when they finished a quick breakfast and everyone stood and said their good-byes. Pauline got hugs from everyone, including Ian, who was nudged forward by his mum, but did not seem at all reluctant.

“Come anytime,” Fiona urged her, and Pauline agreed to try. Chris helped Pauline on with her coat, got his own, took her hand. He picked up her bag, and they went outside together to wait for Michael.

She walked close to him on the little garden path, through the gate and across the yard. They went out to stand by the road, out of sight of those in the kitchen, and Chris put her bag down and turned to her. He took both her hands in his, looked into her eyes.

“I’ll come home soon,” he said.

“December.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“And maybe I can come visit again.”

He kissed her. “You’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” she said, putting her face against his jacket. His solid arms went around her and held her, securing her in an embrace that held no uncertainty. She drew in the rich, earthy smell of him. This would soon be a daily occurrence. She sighed in contentment. The fingers of his right hand trailed up her back, caressed her neck, combed through her hair. A tremor shook her, and he gave a soft growl of pleasure and held her tighter.

She became aware of a noise in the distance.

She looked up at him. He kissed her long and hard, keeping his hold on her. She didn’t want it to end, but he broke away from her when the lorry rounded the corner and came into view.

“No reason to cry this time,” she said to him above the noise of the engine as Michael pulled up next to them. He held her hand, looked at her, and he shook his head, smiled just a little.

The lorry squealed to a halt. Chris stepped forward and reached up to open the door.

“I’m a bit late!” Michael called down from his seat. “But I don’t expect you mind, eh?”

Chris helped Pauline up into the cab, then got her bag and stepped up to hand it in. She took it and put it behind her seat. Chris stood there, gripping the handle of the open door, looked at Michael, held out his other hand.

“Thanks, Cooper,” he said, and Michael smiled and leaned over to shake it.

“I reckoned I owed you one,” Michael said lightly.

“Can we do it again?” Pauline asked him.

“We’ll have to see,” Michael said. “I’ll have a word with Kay. She’s pretty accommodating if she’s in a good mood. And of course, she’d do almost anything for you, Price.” He grinned wide and winked at them.

“Tell her thank you, too,” Chris said.

“I will indeed. She has a job for you anytime you want one, you know.”

“Not a chance,” Chris said, and looked at Pauline. He took her hand in his and squeezed it.

“Well, I hate to have to rush, but I do have a schedule to keep,” Michael said then.

Pauline put a hand up to Chris’s face, smiled at him. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, and he nodded, swallowed. His eyes flicked in Michael’s direction briefly. He looked like he wanted to kiss her again, but instead he used his free arm to hug her close.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Me, too. It won’t be too long,” she whispered back.

He let her go. “Drive safe,” he said to Michael, and then he was jumping down and closing the door. She leaned her forehead against the glass, watching him standing there. He blew her a kiss and mouthed, “I love you.” She did the same, a lump in her throat.

Michael shifted, and the lorry started to move. Chris got smaller behind them, standing with his hands in his pockets, alone by the side of the road.

When he was out of sight, Pauline turned and sat facing forward in her seat, blinking.

“You okay?” Michael asked.

She nodded.

Michael was quiet while they went through the little town of Hurleigh.

“You had a good time?” he asked finally.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” she said, having got herself back in control. “Thank you, Michael...I had a hot shower.”

“That’s the most memorable thing?” Michael said with a grin.

“That I can talk about, yes.” She grinned back.

“I’m happy for you, Paulie, I really am,” he said. “But look...”

She turned to him when he did not go on. “What?”

He bit his lip. “There won’t be any more visits. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” she said, her stomach hollow.

“They’ve decided we all need a second, a guard. No more solo runs. No more passengers. I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t want to tell Chris. I’m a coward, I suppose.”

“Has there been trouble?”

“Not around here. Closer to London, yes. We’re safe, don’t worry. But they don’t want to take any chances.”

“No, of course not,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Well, rules are rules.”

“He said he’d come the end of November, right? It’s only a month.”

“He’d have come today if there’d been room. Yes, only a month. He’ll be okay.”

“What about you, sweetie? Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course. I’m used to it.” She cast him a look. Michael rolled his eyes. He said nothing, kept his gaze on the road, but reached over and took her hand to squeeze it.

Butterfly Days
(excerpt)
(C. Price, 1997)

Hearts ignite, sweep away the cheerless.
Fly a kite, upward lifts the air.
Hands unite, together feeling fearless.
Featherlight kisses in your hair.

Butterfly days and laughing happy,
We’ll have it all again when you come home.
Evermore our love night christens.
Make you mine so you will never roam.

Wrap you in my cocoon.
Must you go so soon?

CHAPTER 29

A
week later, Chris sat at the kitchen table writing a letter to Pauline. Brian had already put the boys to bed and taken Simon into the little office next to the pantry to go over some paperwork.

“Hey, there’s an Outbreak Warning!” Jon called from the sitting room, where he had turned on the radio to try to find some news.

“Where?” Chris asked without getting up.

“I think you should hear this.”

Something in his voice made Chris drop his pen and join his brother. Jon turned up the volume.

“...have declared Epidemic Emergencies,” the announcer said. “Ports are closed in the following counties: Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, London, Kent, Sussex, Hampshire, Dorset, Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, and Gloucestershire.”

“Hampshire.”

“That’s just ports,” Jon said, still staring at the radio.

Brian and Simon came in, followed closely by Fiona.

“Where is it?” Simon asked, and Jon shushed him as the announcer continued.

“The contagion is still unconfirmed at this time, but citizens should take every precaution to aid in containment. A strict quarantine has been issued for the following counties: Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire, Hertfordshire, Essex, London, Kent, East Sussex, West Sussex, Surrey, Hampshire, Dorset, and Somerset.”

“So many,” Fiona said.

“Hampshire,” Chris repeated. “That’s Breton.”

“Shhh!”

“...reported in Ipswich, Colchester, Chelmsford, London, Southend-on-Sea, Maidstone, Dover, Folkestone...” The announcer droned on, city after city, while Chris fought back a rising sense of urgency. He heard “Portsmouth,” and flinched as if punched.

“I have to go,” Chris said.

“Chris, there’s a quarantine. You can’t,” Jon said.

“I don’t care. I have to go.”

“How will you get there? The buses will be stopped,” Simon pointed out.

“I’ll take a bloody bicycle if I have to!”

“Have we enough petrol for the car?” Brian said, and they all looked at him.

“We haven’t run the car in years,” Fiona said.

Simon shook his head. “I doubt if it will even go.”

Brian nodded at Chris. “Alan can get it going.”

Chris looked at him, hope starting.

“There’ll be roadblocks. You won’t get through,” Simon said.