‘Well, that’s a pity. I think I would pay good money to see you doing ventriloquism with one of those horror-movie puppets.’
I chuckled as I continued the climb. But the tree was thick, and every now and then a small branch scraped against my arms and legs or caught in my ponytail, which was becoming looser and looser with each meter. When I finally reached the top, I was able to see the wreckage properly.
‘It’s very damaged. Do you still want it?’ I called down to Andrew.
‘Absolutely. I can always do something with the parts.’
‘Frankenstein them?’ I asked, now knowing exactly what that phrase meant.
I started loosening the craft. It was tangled badly, and I needed to maneuver it out gently, lest I damage it more. ‘Luckily, you’re a better pilot than you are an RC pilot,’ I said as I finally managed to free the broken-winged thing. I looked down at him; I had a clean gap through the branches. ‘Can you catch?’
He nodded, and I carefully dropped the plane towards him. It veered off to the right, thanks to its one broken wing, but Andrew managed to catch it.
I started back down the tree carefully. It’s always easier going up than coming down. Mind you, isn’t that so for most things in life? Easier getting excited and happy about something, optimistic and hopeful, than the opposite.
I’d bent some of the smaller branches going up and was now worried that putting my foot back down on them might cause them to snap. So I chose alternative branches and a different way down. But when I came to the long trunk, the only branch there that I’d used to get up had snapped. I looked over my shoulder. Andrew had put his hands up in the air.
‘I think you’d better jump into my arms,’ he said.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.
‘No you won’t. You’re the woman who trips over invisible things. You really think I’m letting you jump out of a tree?’
‘You’ll never catch me.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that.’ And then I felt his hands on my ankles.
‘Jump!’
‘Are you sure you can catch me?’
‘Do you trust me?’ The question seemed loaded.Did I trust him?Trust him to catch me, or did I trust him with more?
‘I do.’ I closed my eyes, let go of the branch and fell backwards. I felt like I was falling in slow motion, his hands slipping from my ankles, up my calves, my thighs, my hips. It wasn’t really a jump; instead I floated down to earth helped by Andrew’s strong grip. I was an air ballerina, doing ajeté, held up by my partner. My feet finally touched the ground, I turned around and then found myself standing in front of Andrew Boyce-Jones. Captain Boyce-Jones. I could smell him first. And then feel the warmth coming off his body.
‘Your hair,’ he said softly.
‘What about it?’
He touched my hair. I didn’t flinch, or take a step back.
‘If we don’t clean this up, birds will start nesting in it.’ He pulled a twig out of the tangle and held it up for me to see.
I nodded. He moved closer to me and went to work pulling out the small twigs and leaves that had tangled themselves into my hair. He did it slowly. I watched him, fascinated by the intensity in his eyes as they focused on my head, scanning it from side to side. His mouth was slightly ajar, and we were so close that I could feel his breath on my face and lips. I could smell it too. It was not unpleasant. It reminded me of what the world smells like after a much-needed rainstorm.
And then the desire to stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him overwhelmed me. It hadn’t started as a thought in my head, like most things do, it had started as a feeling. An urge that had made me shift towards him, even before I was conscious of doing it.Urge:impulse, yearning, craving, compulsion. Never had a list of synonyms described so perfectly the feeling twisting inside me right now.
‘There, all done,’ he said, dragging his eyes from my hair and bringing them to collide with mine.
Itching. Longing. Lusting.
I think we both leaned in now. I don’t know. I’m not sure if I was imagining it, or not. But we must have leaned, because our faces and lips seemed so much closer than they had been moments ago. Our bodies too. I was sure my weight was now in my toes, pushing me forward, not in my heels, tilting me back. Another warm, pleasant wave moved through me and pushed me forward even more.
‘Pippa,’ Andrew said in a deep, slow voice.
‘Andrew,’ I replied. He moved again. The space between us was disappearing quickly.
‘Pippa,’ he said again.
