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No True Pair Sept. 4 - Raymond & Marie - Looks Back tag
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--
September Four - Raymond & Marie - sunset
So this was England, Marie thought.
Biggles's friend Ginger had flown her here. With one thing and another, endless customs forms and delays with obtaining and verifying her replacement passport, they had been hours late taking off from Nancy, and the sun was setting when they landed at an airfield outside of London.
Ginger gave her a hand down from the plane, and she looked around with weary curiosity. Of course an airport was never going to give the best impression of a new place. But there was an unexpected beauty to her surroundings that somehow soothed her soul, not the immediate ordinariness of the runway and hangars, but the sky—an island sky, temperamental and ever-changing, where light filtered through water-rich air and clouds stacked in great, towering layers. She could understand all of a sudden why such a sky had called Biggles to it. The tarmac glistened from a recent rain, and a westering sun peeked out beneath the hem of a skirt of dark clouds; all her surroundings were gleaming crimson and blue and gold. Water dripped off the eaves of the long, low building that, she supposed, must house the Air Police offices that Ginger and Biggles had talked about. It was a striking image to become her first impression of the place that was going to be her home.
She had never been here—never thought to be here. But Erich lived here now, an almost unthinkable concept. And she no longer had anywhere to go back to. She clutched the parcel containing her jewels, now contained in a large handbag she had bought in Nancy; she had refused to have it out of her sight.
Ginger reached back into the aeroplane and brought out Marie's meager luggage, also purchased in Nancy, and his own scuffed satchel.
"Seems we've a reception committee," he murmured, nodding to the office where Marie saw that several men in suits, some holding umbrellas, awaited them outside the building. To her surprise, Ginger moved closer to her, an oddly protective gesture. In Biggles's absence, Ginger seemed to have appointed himself into a position of responsibility for her, as if deputized. She was touched.
She caught her breath a little as one of the men, silver-haired with a commanding presence, came toward them. She knew him; she had read his file, memorized his face. But he had been much younger then. And so had she. A different lifetime, for her. It seemed that he was still living the same one.
"Miss Janis," said William Raymond. He shook her hand and nodded a greeting to Ginger. "Air Constable Hebblethwaite. I assume those are the infamous jewels?" His sharp gaze drifted to the bag she held tightly against her.
"Yes," Marie said.
"Welcome to England. Not the best impression so far, I'd expect."
"It's beautiful," Marie said, with the memory of those towering, gold-edged clouds, that glimpse of the sun beneath a thunderhead's billowing skirt, still vivid in her mind.
There was a stifled noise from Ginger. Raymond said smoothly, "I believe that's a completely unique reaction to Gatwick Airport, but I'm flattered nevertheless. Have you eaten?"
Flushing slightly, Marie answered in the negative; it had been a long, weary time in the Customs offices in Nancy.
"We talked about it on the flight over. I was thinking I could take her to get something to eat," Ginger said. "And then perhaps a hotel, for her, I mean ..." He faded under Raymond's shrewd eye, although there was nothing scornful there, just a mild amusement.
"No need," Raymond said briskly. "There's a car waiting to take you to Mount Street, Hebblethwaite; you must be about done in. I'm sure your friends will be happy to see you. I'll be wanting a full report, of course, but that can wait until morning. I will see to Miss Janis's welfare."
Ginger hesitated. Touched, Marie smiled at him. "Go on," she told him. "I will be all right."
She was not at all sure of that, especially when the men in suits closed in on them. She recognized their type, if not their exact offices. But Raymond offered her his arm, picked up her small suitcase, and turned so that the disgruntled officials were neatly blocked. Ginger, with a smile, went off toward the car park with a lighter step.
"I would like to take you to dinner, if you don't mind," Raymond said. "If you're too tired, we've arranged for a hotel for you tonight, and of course you may change your lodgings in the morning if you have other plans. But if you have the time, I think we have a great deal to talk about."
Marie put her shoulders back and tried to banish her weakness and weariness. The edge of the clouds slipped over the sun; it was suddenly darker, and a few drops of rain pattered in the puddles near her. But oddly, she felt energized rather than weighed down by the weather. The memory of the striking sunset gleaming across the wet runway stayed with her.
"Yes," she said, taking his arm. "Thank you. I would like that."
Ficlet master list in this post
rosanicus, who has several batches of Biggles icons available for taking; see their icon tag for more!--
September Four - Raymond & Marie - sunset
So this was England, Marie thought.
Biggles's friend Ginger had flown her here. With one thing and another, endless customs forms and delays with obtaining and verifying her replacement passport, they had been hours late taking off from Nancy, and the sun was setting when they landed at an airfield outside of London.
Ginger gave her a hand down from the plane, and she looked around with weary curiosity. Of course an airport was never going to give the best impression of a new place. But there was an unexpected beauty to her surroundings that somehow soothed her soul, not the immediate ordinariness of the runway and hangars, but the sky—an island sky, temperamental and ever-changing, where light filtered through water-rich air and clouds stacked in great, towering layers. She could understand all of a sudden why such a sky had called Biggles to it. The tarmac glistened from a recent rain, and a westering sun peeked out beneath the hem of a skirt of dark clouds; all her surroundings were gleaming crimson and blue and gold. Water dripped off the eaves of the long, low building that, she supposed, must house the Air Police offices that Ginger and Biggles had talked about. It was a striking image to become her first impression of the place that was going to be her home.
She had never been here—never thought to be here. But Erich lived here now, an almost unthinkable concept. And she no longer had anywhere to go back to. She clutched the parcel containing her jewels, now contained in a large handbag she had bought in Nancy; she had refused to have it out of her sight.
Ginger reached back into the aeroplane and brought out Marie's meager luggage, also purchased in Nancy, and his own scuffed satchel.
"Seems we've a reception committee," he murmured, nodding to the office where Marie saw that several men in suits, some holding umbrellas, awaited them outside the building. To her surprise, Ginger moved closer to her, an oddly protective gesture. In Biggles's absence, Ginger seemed to have appointed himself into a position of responsibility for her, as if deputized. She was touched.
She caught her breath a little as one of the men, silver-haired with a commanding presence, came toward them. She knew him; she had read his file, memorized his face. But he had been much younger then. And so had she. A different lifetime, for her. It seemed that he was still living the same one.
"Miss Janis," said William Raymond. He shook her hand and nodded a greeting to Ginger. "Air Constable Hebblethwaite. I assume those are the infamous jewels?" His sharp gaze drifted to the bag she held tightly against her.
"Yes," Marie said.
"Welcome to England. Not the best impression so far, I'd expect."
"It's beautiful," Marie said, with the memory of those towering, gold-edged clouds, that glimpse of the sun beneath a thunderhead's billowing skirt, still vivid in her mind.
There was a stifled noise from Ginger. Raymond said smoothly, "I believe that's a completely unique reaction to Gatwick Airport, but I'm flattered nevertheless. Have you eaten?"
Flushing slightly, Marie answered in the negative; it had been a long, weary time in the Customs offices in Nancy.
"We talked about it on the flight over. I was thinking I could take her to get something to eat," Ginger said. "And then perhaps a hotel, for her, I mean ..." He faded under Raymond's shrewd eye, although there was nothing scornful there, just a mild amusement.
"No need," Raymond said briskly. "There's a car waiting to take you to Mount Street, Hebblethwaite; you must be about done in. I'm sure your friends will be happy to see you. I'll be wanting a full report, of course, but that can wait until morning. I will see to Miss Janis's welfare."
Ginger hesitated. Touched, Marie smiled at him. "Go on," she told him. "I will be all right."
She was not at all sure of that, especially when the men in suits closed in on them. She recognized their type, if not their exact offices. But Raymond offered her his arm, picked up her small suitcase, and turned so that the disgruntled officials were neatly blocked. Ginger, with a smile, went off toward the car park with a lighter step.
"I would like to take you to dinner, if you don't mind," Raymond said. "If you're too tired, we've arranged for a hotel for you tonight, and of course you may change your lodgings in the morning if you have other plans. But if you have the time, I think we have a great deal to talk about."
Marie put her shoulders back and tried to banish her weakness and weariness. The edge of the clouds slipped over the sun; it was suddenly darker, and a few drops of rain pattered in the puddles near her. But oddly, she felt energized rather than weighed down by the weather. The memory of the striking sunset gleaming across the wet runway stayed with her.
"Yes," she said, taking his arm. "Thank you. I would like that."
Ficlet master list in this post
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