Royal Flush Read Online Free Page B

hope it stops before I have to ride back to London. Riding a motorcycle in a storm is simply not fun.”
    “You could get struck by lightning,” Belinda said. “I thought you loved danger.”
    “Danger, sì . Getting soaking wet, no.”
    “You’ll have to leave the motorcycle here and come back on the train with us,” Belinda said.
    “But I could not reach the house where I am staying without my motorcycle,” he said. “Where could I spend the night, do you think?”
    Of course he knew the answer perfectly well.
    “Let me think,” Belinda said.
    I turned away, wishing I were not the wallflower again. Then somebody shouted, “Look! There’s an aeroplane attempting to land.”
    I peered into the downpour and thought I could make out a blacker speck against the dark clouds.
    “He must be crazy to try and land in this,” someone else said. “He’ll get himself killed.”
    Everybody rushed to the windows to watch the spectacle. We could see the tiny machine bobbing around, disappearing into cloud one minute and reappearing the next. Then it went into a great bank of darkness. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. There was no sign of the plane. Suddenly a cheer went up. The little craft came out of the cloud, only a few feet above the runway, and touched down, sending out a sheet of spray behind it.
    Everyone streamed out of the restaurant. We followed, caught up in the excitement, and stood under the canopy as the small craft came toward us. It was a biplane, no bigger than a child’s toy.
    “It’s a Gypsy Moth,” Paolo said. “Open cockpit, you know. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to land a Moth in this kind of storm.”
    The aeroplane came to a halt. The pilot swung himself out of the rear cockpit and climbed down to applause and cheers. Then he took off his helmet and a gasp went up from the crowd. The pilot was a woman with striking red hair.
    “It’s Ronny!” Paolo exclaimed, pushing forward through the crowd.
    “Ronny? It looks like a girl to me,” I said.
    “Veronica Padgett, darling.” Belinda was following Paolo through the crowd. “You know, the famous aviatrix. She just set the solo record from London to Cape Town.”
    The pilot was now making her way into the building, graciously accepting the cheers and congratulations as she moved through the crowd.
    “Ronny, well done,” Paolo called out as she passed us.
    She looked up, saw him and gave him a big smile. “What-ho, Paolo. Bet you couldn’t do that.”
    “Nobody in his right mind would have attempted that, Ronny. You’re quite mad, you know.”
    She laughed. She had a rich, deep laugh. “Possibly. I told myself so many times during the last half hour.”
    “Where have you come from?” Paolo asked.
    “Not far. Only over from France. I knew I probably shouldn’t have taken off, but I didn’t want to miss a party this evening. But the whole thing was utterly bloody. Couldn’t see the blasted railway lines in France and then there was fog over the Channel and then I flew into this bank of filthy weather. Bucketed around all over the place. I almost lost my lunch, and my compass was playing up too. No idea where the damned runway was. My God, it was fun.”
    I looked at her in amazement. Her face was positively glowing with excitement.
    “Come on, let’s get out of this infernal weather,” she said, turning up her flight jacket collar as another clap of thunder sounded overhead and the wind whipped across the aerodrome. As we fell into place behind her, Belinda tapped Paolo on the shoulder. “Are you planning to introduce us or are you keeping her all to yourself?” she asked.
    Paolo laughed, a trifle nervously. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you. Ronny, these are my friends Belinda Warburton-Stoke and Georgiana Rannoch. Girls, this is Ronny Padgett.”
    I saw Ronny’s eyes widen. “Rannoch? Any relation to the dukes of?”
    “The last one was my father; the current one is my brother,” I said.
    “Good