Flights of Angels Read Online Free
Author: Victoria Connelly
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, Fantasy & Futuristic
people didn’t realise was that friends suffered too when someone died. Claudie just wasn’t the girl she used to be, and Kristen missed her so much that it sometimes hurt. She missed the warm-hearted, honest advice Claudie would give her when she needed to share her problems. Right now, though, it wouldn’t be fair to burden Claudie with her niggling worries about Jimmy. It wasn’t the done thing, was it? Look, I know your husband died, but can’t you give me some advice about where my own relationship is going? No, Kristen had to be the shoulder for Claudie, and where did that leave her to turn?
She couldn’t help but miss the old Claudie. The girl who’d made her laugh by dancing round the harbour imitating Ginger Rogers when she’d had one too many. The girl who hid cream cakes in the stationery cupboard until the bosses were safely ensconced in a meeting. What had become of her? Where had she gone? And would she ever come back again?
Kristen sighed as she squirted tomato ketchup over her chips because she knew it wasn’t just Luke who’d been lost. It was Claudie too.
Claudie lay back in a lavender-scented froth of warm bubbles. She’d gone a bit over the top with the lavender in York, buying candles, bubble bath, soap, and a tiny bottle of essential oil. She’d potted her cutting from Dr Lynton, but determined to buy her own complete plant for her kitchen windowsill as soon as she could.
She was tired. York always left her feeling drained, but lavender was meant to be good for fatigue, as well as a whole host of other complaints. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the way that Luke used to shout through the bathroom door at her if she was more than half an hour.
‘I don’t want my wife drowning!’ he’d call, poking his head round the door with a cheeky wink. She’d thought about it too. It would be so easy to slip under the foamy world into oblivion.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, her skin covered in tiny goosebumps. It was that strange sensation again: the feeling of being watched which she’d experienced at work. She sat upright and looked round the tiny bathroom as if she half-expected to see somebody there.
‘Who is it?’ she whispered. But there was nobody there. Of course there wasn’t.
She sighed, and sank back down until her shoulders were dressed in bubbles again. She must try and relax. Perhaps she hadn’t added enough essential oil to her bath.
She was just about to reach for the little glass bottle when she saw her. And there was no mistaking this time.
For there, dancing between the shampoo and the loofah, was a perfect tiny, diamond-bright girl.
Chapter 3
Simon Hart was not in a good mood. After an hour and a half of two-finger typing, he sat back in his threadbare office chair to proof-read his work. Then, just as he thought he’d got things sorted out, his computer had crashed. He hadn’t saved his work, of course.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had just been one of those days. Trouble was, it was turning out to be one of those years. It was all very convenient to blame everything that went wrong in his life on Felicity Maddox, but it wouldn’t be a complete overstatement.
October was when the trouble had begun. He’d known something had been wrong with Felicity for some time because she’d been acting strangely. Not that that was terribly unusual for Felicity, but this was different. She seemed restless and hostile.
For almost two years, they’d shared a house on the edge of town, far removed from the picturesque cottages surrounding the harbour. But it was cheap and convenient. Trouble was, Felicity, belying her name, wasn’t happy with it.
‘When are we going to move?’ she’d moan every couple of days. ‘I hate this dump!’ Simon hated it too, but he was doing his best to make it as a self-employed website designer, so couldn’t possibly think about upgrading something as frivolous as living quarters. There was no cash. Except
She couldn’t help but miss the old Claudie. The girl who’d made her laugh by dancing round the harbour imitating Ginger Rogers when she’d had one too many. The girl who hid cream cakes in the stationery cupboard until the bosses were safely ensconced in a meeting. What had become of her? Where had she gone? And would she ever come back again?
Kristen sighed as she squirted tomato ketchup over her chips because she knew it wasn’t just Luke who’d been lost. It was Claudie too.
Claudie lay back in a lavender-scented froth of warm bubbles. She’d gone a bit over the top with the lavender in York, buying candles, bubble bath, soap, and a tiny bottle of essential oil. She’d potted her cutting from Dr Lynton, but determined to buy her own complete plant for her kitchen windowsill as soon as she could.
She was tired. York always left her feeling drained, but lavender was meant to be good for fatigue, as well as a whole host of other complaints. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the way that Luke used to shout through the bathroom door at her if she was more than half an hour.
‘I don’t want my wife drowning!’ he’d call, poking his head round the door with a cheeky wink. She’d thought about it too. It would be so easy to slip under the foamy world into oblivion.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, her skin covered in tiny goosebumps. It was that strange sensation again: the feeling of being watched which she’d experienced at work. She sat upright and looked round the tiny bathroom as if she half-expected to see somebody there.
‘Who is it?’ she whispered. But there was nobody there. Of course there wasn’t.
She sighed, and sank back down until her shoulders were dressed in bubbles again. She must try and relax. Perhaps she hadn’t added enough essential oil to her bath.
She was just about to reach for the little glass bottle when she saw her. And there was no mistaking this time.
For there, dancing between the shampoo and the loofah, was a perfect tiny, diamond-bright girl.
Chapter 3
Simon Hart was not in a good mood. After an hour and a half of two-finger typing, he sat back in his threadbare office chair to proof-read his work. Then, just as he thought he’d got things sorted out, his computer had crashed. He hadn’t saved his work, of course.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had just been one of those days. Trouble was, it was turning out to be one of those years. It was all very convenient to blame everything that went wrong in his life on Felicity Maddox, but it wouldn’t be a complete overstatement.
October was when the trouble had begun. He’d known something had been wrong with Felicity for some time because she’d been acting strangely. Not that that was terribly unusual for Felicity, but this was different. She seemed restless and hostile.
For almost two years, they’d shared a house on the edge of town, far removed from the picturesque cottages surrounding the harbour. But it was cheap and convenient. Trouble was, Felicity, belying her name, wasn’t happy with it.
‘When are we going to move?’ she’d moan every couple of days. ‘I hate this dump!’ Simon hated it too, but he was doing his best to make it as a self-employed website designer, so couldn’t possibly think about upgrading something as frivolous as living quarters. There was no cash. Except