Life Begins (48 page)

Sam was already running across the field to greet the new arrivals. Charlotte approached more slowly, shy of eliciting one of Rose’s icy stares, noting that Dominic was wearing
the unforgettable scarlet woollen pom-pom hat in a bid to ward off the morning chill. What a fantastic surprise.’ She confined herself to a peck on the cheek by way of a greeting. ‘And I’ve always loved that hat – do you know, Rose, your father wore it the very first time I met him, when he came to view our house and didn’t like it?’

‘I did like it – it just wasn’t right for me,’ Dominic protested. ‘And I could never have made it as nice as you have now. If you ever put it on the market again, they’ll be queuing down the street.’

They grinned at each other, happy in the knowledge that, thanks to the presence of their offspring, they were holding back. Similar sensitivity had led to the agreement not to share a bed yet either – at least, not openly, a deprivation they would have felt more keenly had private opportunities to express their mutual enthusiasm – at less traditional times of day – not been in ready supply.

But Rose was too transfixed to bother with receiving compliments or the already somewhat tedious challenge of having a rival for her father’s affections. The balloon had become a giant planet, taut and beautiful, taking up most of the sky. ‘Oh, but it’s
huge
,’ she gasped, trotting after Sam, who was keen to show off his friendship with the bulky man in charge.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Dominic remarked, gazing upwards, like everyone else now assembled in the field. ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ Charlotte pulled a face.

‘It’s only a number.’

‘That’s what people who are younger always say.’

Dominic chuckled. ‘I’m only a few months behind. We’ll be forty together, eh?’ He wrested his gaze from the sky and took her hand, holding on to it even when Rose raced back
to announce that they’d better hurry as it was time to get on board and you had to go in twos and she wanted to be with Sam. ‘And happy birthday,’ she added breathlessly, turning to smile at Charlotte. ‘The balloon, it’s so cool, just the
coolest. .
.’ and with that she ran back again, lolloping with evident difficulty in her Wellingtons.

‘I’ve got a present, but it’s for when we’re alone, okay?’

‘You being here is a present.’

‘It was easy – two slots left – like it was meant to be.’ He squeezed the tips of her fingers.

During lift-off the balloon hovered so steadily and with such precision just a few inches above the ground that Charlotte wondered whether the burly man’s instructions about taking up brace positions for landing had been necessary. It was so hot too, under the blast of the contraption responsible for keeping them afloat, that by the time the basket was rising in earnest she had peeled off her fleece and Dominic’s woolly hat had been stuffed into a trouser pocket.

‘Oh, Christ.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not sure I can manage this.’

‘But you’re the flyer,’ Charlotte reminded him, laughing as she leant over the edge of the basket to enjoy the sight of the ground falling away, shrinking vehicles, houses, cows and sheep to the size of farmyard toys. In the neighbouring compartment Sam and Rose, shrieking, pointing and grabbing each other, were evidently just as thrilled.

Dominic, meanwhile, was pressing himself against the rear of the wicker compartment, his face ashen.

‘It’s okay.’ Charlotte slipped an arm round him, realizing at last that the fear was serious.

‘It’s not. It’s not okay at all.’

‘But, darling, you fly aeroplanes,’ she reminded him gently.

‘I don’t care. It’s not the same.’

‘Because you’re not at the controls?’

He nodded, biting his lip. ‘Maybe. I can’t look down, I just can’t.’

‘Don’t, then. Look at the sky. Look at all the greens in the trees and fields. Look at how trim and prim the countryside looks, like a place for garden gnomes, a Toytown, so unscary and manageable…’

‘That means looking down… to see those things.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry. Just the sky then – keep your eyes on that. And there’s a cloud over there, small and fluffy – like a lost sheep.’

Dominic edged forwards, keeping a tight grip on her hand. ‘Maggie was the one who got vertigo. Not me.’

‘This better not mean you’re going to give up flying.’

Dominic laughed, relaxing a little. ‘No, never… I’d miss it.’

‘A month of promising and you still haven’t taken me up.’

‘I will. There’s been quite a lot going on, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ He shuffled closer to the edge of the basket and peered over gingerly. ‘It’s better now, being higher, more like the plane. God, I feel so…
exposed
, though, don’t you? One sneeze and I could fall out.’

Charlotte giggled. ‘Nonsense. And, besides, I’d hold you.’

‘Then you’d fall with me.’

‘Then I’d fall with you,’ she echoed, smiling.

Up high, it was silent and still, as if they were suspended from some invisible hook in the sky rather than actually moving. Below, the world was a carpet, smooth and safe, unpeopled, untroubled. Thoroughly relaxed now, they rested their elbows side by side on the edge of the basket and
feasted on the sight – the bands of colour in the sky, the lost sheep of a cloud, which shrank to a wisp, a speck and then was gone.

‘We’re going down,’ Dominic shouted, relaxed and exuberant, when the balloon, some forty minutes later, began its descent. ‘I hope you remember the drill.’

‘Easy – look.’ Charlotte turned her back to the edge, took hold of the safety handle and squatted as they had been shown.

‘Very impressive, but,’ he added slyly, ‘there’s the other thing to prepare for too, the thing I haven’t mentioned yet.’

‘What other thing? What are you talking about?’ She punched his arm.

‘If you look now, you might see.’ Dominic pointed down to the road where the truck – in walkie-talkie contact with their captain – was racing to the field that had been identified as the best spot for landing. ‘There’s a bit of a welcome committee behind that thing down there. Sorry, but Theresa can be quite formidable when she latches on to something can’t she? The whole birthday-party idea, she wouldn’t give up on it.’

Charlotte stared, speechless, as the line of cars behind the truck came into focus, the windows of each open and spilling, she could see now, with familiar heads and waving arms. Theresa, Naomi, Josephine – husbands, children, they were all there; and the saintly Bill’s sparkling Audi was bringing up the rear, with her mother riding up front for once, her face a small blur through the windscreen. Four, five cars, counting the truck… Charlotte scanned the lane, checking for Martin’s black convertible. It wasn’t there, but it was good to have wanted it to be, good to know that he was an integral, positive part of her world.

‘I am whole.’ She whispered the words to the air. The
ground was rushing up at them, bringing with it the hiss of trees, the roar of car engines, a barking dog. Reality returning: it was time to adopt the emergency positions they had been shown. And it felt necessary, too, now that the moment had come. They were going so fast, anything could happen. Charlotte squatted, reaching not for the safety handle but for Dominic’s hand, watching his face as they braced themselves to land.

‘Research assistance’ occurs constantly, in ways too numerous and subtle to list or pin down. Those clearly warranting formal thanks are Paula Carter, who took me flying, Ed and Louisa Brookfield, for my helpful birthday gift, Sara Westcott, for matters medical, and Greene’s College, Oxford, for setting me straight on my Latin.