Chapter 34
The remainder of the night was spent entertaining Gibraltar, or at least a large part of it (doesn’t anyone ever sleep around here?) and then finally, after a quiet hour to ourselves, the moment that we had both been dreading arrived, Sandra and I had to part. We had already agreed countless times that it was of course the right thing to do, to let things settle down etc, etc, etc but it didn’t seem to be helping very much. Fort Brockhurst provided a boat for us as it was still too manic on the jetty to safely set foot on it (and the Lady S’s boats were still well and truly ‘battened down’) and we slipped quietly away to the airport (with about twenty other assorted boats following us). The rest of Sandra’s team (plus Scott), slipped on board my brand new, never seen by me Gulfstream G450 (with Teddy and David at the controls [Grrrrrr]) as we stood holding each other (ahhh) at the bottom of the steps, and at that point if it hadn’t been for her bosses plaintive cries for help (a mystery virus was decimating his staff), I think that she would have finally done the sensible thing and ‘pulled a sickie’, but duty called, and as I watched the graceful aircraft climb away towards England I wished that my ‘duty wouldn’t call’, I desperately wanted to be on that aircraft with her. I’d had absolutely no sleep at all last night but now I was expected to entertain the Governor of Gibraltar, the Chief Minister and a host of local dignitaries, a representative of the owner of the Tonkun, a Royal Navy Admiral or two, a ‘very Senior Royal’s son (not the one that had had the naughty weekend at El Campo, the one that had just traded his polo pony in for a gunship), a couple of ‘favoured’ Journalists, and anyone else that Mad Max could squeeze onto the ‘A’ list - I had drawn a line at a ‘B’ list. I could easily have climbed on board my aircraft and disappeared off into the wild blue yonder with her, but I didn’t want to turn into the type of person that just left his staff to pick up the pieces, so it was with a heavy heart that I climbed back on board the waiting boat and made my way back to Lady S.
As we approached the Lady S a rather swish motor boat crammed full of scantily clad dolly birds careered past, and I was showered with ladies undergarments, and not very large ones at that, just large enough to have a telephone number scribbled in a strategic place on each of them. Too late ladies I’m already taken - now that thought cheered me up, and that night/morning Sandra and I fell asleep talking on the phone, and we were both shocked into consciousness by her blasted alarm clock (she was definitely not bringing that with her to El Campo!) but we agreed after a few minutes that there would be no repeat of her ‘morning after’ television appearance.
The local shipyard had kindly offered me the use of their facilities, so the Lady S was going to spend a few days in dry dock having her ‘bottom touched up’ (lucky thing) and a few minor bits and bobs sorted out, although she had come through the whole experience virtually unscathed, just a few dents here and there, so after a shower and a very late breakfast (I’d often had lunch earlier) I went off to do the rounds of my crew, to thank them for their sterling efforts over the past few days and to hint that ‘Santa’ might just be coming early (in their pay packets), but virtually to a man (and/or woman) they thanked me, but what they would really like was a small commemorative patch that they could wear on their uniforms, similar to the CTF 150 patches that some had already received. They were genuinely proud of being part of the past few days and they would like, if I was agreeable, to have something to show for it, sort of a campaign medal.
‘Caroline, get your sketch pad out, oh and Marcus, another parade please’.
That evening, as I was taking my first lesson in how to fly the G450, I had a few passengers along for the ride, Doc Martin and her Nurses, Maria (who was still miffed at having to baby sit Alice at Gibraltar), Charlie (with the hounds) and Alice, with a rather shy Gerry sat beside her. He had wondered if I wouldn’t mind if he hung out with Alice for a bit.
‘A bit of what’ I asked myself, mind you I quite liked the name Algernon, then, once we were safely back on the ground I sent Teddy off on a secret mission, had a brief word with Mrs Blake about our next royal visitor, and then I suddenly felt deflated, the after effects of sustained adrenaline does that to you, and I felt strangely ‘funny’, then I realised why - El Campo wasn’t moving. I was sitting alone on the island in the centre of my man made (sorry, Paul made) lake and there was no noise or vibration to be had, it would take me some time to get used to the peace and quiet again, and as I sat there in my special place, thinking over what had gone on during the past few hectic days, I debated the fact with myself that had I been wrong to fall so hard, or so quickly for Sandra - or was I, as Alice had said, simply moving on to the next stage in my life; I hoped so.
The next afternoon I sat watching Sandra, I was still in Spain, she was still in England, but it was the Prime Ministers monthly press conference - and the cameras couldn’t keep away from her. As she entered the room all the journalists had stood and applauded her, and now she stood, veritably glowing, with her peers, waiting for the main man himself to enter the room. The Prime Minister entered and magnanimously congratulated Sandra on her ‘little adventure’, and then reluctantly asked her for the first question of the session. He wasn’t very happy about even being in the same room as her, but with (hopefully) millions watching he had to put on a brave face. He wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that Adam had been struck down by the mysterious virus that was decimating Sky presenters, meaning that ‘she’ had to replace him at the last minute. What he really believed was that the ‘Dragon Lady’, sorry Ms Bolting, was plotting something. She had already brought two of his cabinet down, was he to be the third? What on earth had she ‘got’ on him? and so he stood there, perspiration starting to trickle down his brow, waiting for her question, and it turned out to be an absolute gift, the sort or question that politicians loved. He could prevaricate, placate every faction of his fractured party and look as though he was all things to all people, but there was a catch, it (sorry she) had asked for a favour - could she also ask the last question of the session as well? His heart stopped, that was it - his career in politics was over, and it was off onto the after dinner speaking circuit.
Somehow he made it through the session, trying to string his last few minutes in politics out as long as he could, but finally the last question of his Prime Ministerial career was about to be asked, ‘and as promised the final question of this session from you please Ms Bolting’. He stood there physically shaking, the whole of the audience had their pens and mobiles poised, television programs had been interrupted as Directors and Producers realised that something monumental was about to go down, and Sandra rose elegantly to her feet. Then, with a sweet smile on her face, and a gentle tone in her voice she purred ‘Mister Prime Minister, I understand that (his knees started to buckle) it is your wife’s birthday today (the damn woman has found out about the bracelet), and I am sure that I speak on behalf of the entire press corps in wishing her a happy birthday, she is such a lovely lady’, and then she sat down. You could have heard a pin drop, and the Prime Minister stormed off, that harridan was really going to drag it out. He was safely in his ministerial limo before he realised that he had bought the bracelet quite legitimately on e-bay, it looked more expensive than it really was, she must have something else on him.
That evening he cancelled dinner with the visiting President of Pakistan and went to bed early, after first liberally dosing himself up with his favourite sleeping potion, but even that tasted sour, and so the next morning he could wait no longer and rang Sandra’s boss. He still owed him a few favours from when he had been on the back benches many years ago. ‘Spanky (they had both been at the same public school together) put me out my misery, what has the ‘bitc*’ got on me’.
A very confused ‘Spanky’ (he had quite enjoyed some of the schools ‘rituals’) thought for a moment, then realised what was going through Slimey’s mind, ‘nothing old fruit, she’s just in love’. Spanky then went back to watching Sandra interviewing a very ‘liberal’ Cabinet
Minister, who it was rumoured, had been more active in ‘Physical Education’ than she should have been, they were just finishing swapping Yorkshire pudding recipes - enough was enough.
As Sandra left the Building on indefinite leave she realised that her father had been right all along, journalism had just been a ‘passing phase’, it had just taken her a little time to realise it. She plucked her mobile out of her Gucci shoulder bag and speed dialled Andrew (star one).
‘Hello darling, do you like Yorkshire pudding? I’ve just been told this fabulous recipe’.
Although I had already passed the new recipe on to Marcel (who wasn’t impressed with it one little bit, but then what do the French know about real food) I played along. ‘Why don’t you come and make it for me?’ I answered.
‘I thought you would never ask’ she purred, and then I asked her exactly where she was.
‘Outside Sky Head Quarters, I’m just about to cross over the road.
‘Stand perfectly still’ I said ‘don’t move a muscle, oh, and do you have your passport with you?’
‘Of course I do silly’ she retorted ‘I used to be a journalist’.
I liked the ‘used to be’ bit, and picked up my desk phone, speed dialled David and as soon as he replied I told him to ‘pick her up’. Switching back to my mobile I asked her ‘Do you need anything from your apartment’.
‘Not really’ came the puzzled reply, and then in the background I heard the throaty roar of a powerful four by four pull up alongside her. A door slammed as the passenger exited to open the rear door, and I heard Caroline say ‘Ma’am’.
‘I presume that you are hungry’ she said as she slid into the back seat of the vehicle.
‘Yes, very’ I replied, ‘and then afterwards perhaps we can have some of your Yorkshire pudding’,
In the time that it took David to drive to London City Airport Teddy had the Gulfstream up and running, and a few minutes later, after he had watched the G450 lift smoothly off the runway, and disappear into the distance, the Aircraft Marshaller looked down at the ‘tip’ in his hand, the keys to an ‘almost’ new Jeep, ‘some people really do have more money that sense’ he muttered under his breath ‘Thank the Lord’.
Sandra flew down the aircraft steps and straight into my arms, and after finally coming up for air I took her hand and led her away from the house, the sightseeing could wait till later, first off I wanted to introduce her to some very nice people. We quietly walked to the landing stage at the lakes edge, climbed aboard a motor boat and cast off, and as we slowly made our way to the island I looked up at the overcast sky and gave a mock shiver, ‘sorry about the weather, I know that in all the books it says come to ‘sunny Spain’ - I’m sure that we can sue someone’.
She gave me a big hug and quietly whispered into my ear ‘as long as I am with you it could be snowing and I would still be perfectly happy’.
Hmm I thought, think of all the money that I could save on air-conditioning if we relocated to Switzerland, and then we arrived at my island. I tied the boat up to the landing stage and helped her ashore, and we walked hand in hand into its ‘special feature’. It looked like your average mini volcano, just to the side of the eighth hole, and uninitiated golfers might justifiably think that I’d had it put there to make the hole more ‘interesting’, but they would be wrong, it was there because I could visit it every time I came on the golf course, whether I was doing the full sixteen holes, or just the first or the last eight. I had already told Sandra all about my volcano, and shown her the photos when we were on board the Lady S, so we quietly walked hand in hand into its entrance. It wasn’t a concealed entrance, anyone was more than welcome to enter it any time they wished, it just wasn’t an ‘in your face’ type of entrance that demanded that you ‘had’ to enter every time you arrived on the island. We walked down the short tunnel towards its centre, and Sandra gripped my hand even tighter as we exited it. In front of us was a huge cube of brown marble, about two metres square. The top was mirror smooth and sloped gently down towards us, but the sides were rough-hewn, just as they had been when the block had first arrived at the masons. Surrounding the marble block was a wide walkway with gently curved wooden benches set against the sloping walls, and when the sun was out I could quietly sit there, either in the sunshine or the shade, depending on how the mood took me, putting the world to rights with Sheila, George and Millie.
On the gleaming surface of the marble slab were two gold plaques, not gold plated plaques, or gold painted plaques but ‘gold’ plaques; and their surfaces had been engraved by a Master Engraver, and they covered three pewter urns. Sandra turned to me, tears starting to run down her cheeks and said in a husky voice ‘Would you care to introduce me to Sheila, George and Millie’.
I had promised George and Millie that I would find them a suitable resting place, and this huge marble slab ‘rested’ directly on the concrete base of that rusty old aerial that had taken them from this world. It was the last place on the planet that they had been together, and now that they had relocated to a ‘better’ place, their earthly remains would still remain together on that very same spot, for all eternity, and I was sure that they wouldn’t mind sharing it with Sheila.
Together we walked hand in hand up to the slab and Sandra reached out with her free hand and ran her finger tips lightly over the engraved words, ‘Sheila, loving wife and mother – we will always love and miss you’ on the smaller plaque, and ‘George and Millie – still together, and truly missed’ on the ‘double’, along with the dates.
Still holding her hand I introduced Sandra to them, and then surprisingly Sandra started speaking quietly to them, as if they were standing in front of her. She wished them a safe onward journey and promised all three of them that if it was meant to be, she would, with all her heart, look after me for them, and then finally she raised the tips of her fingers to her tear soaked lips, kissed them lightly, and then placed the moist tips on Sheila’s plaque – and as if on cue the sun came out from behind the last cloud in the sky.
As we exited the tunnel, arms around each other, I looked up at the perfect blue sky and commented to my new true love, ‘it looks as though it’s going to be another wonderful day in paradise’.
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About the author
I spent twenty-two years in the Fleet Air Arm (Royal Navy) as an Aircraft Mechanic, most of my time as a Maintenance Supervisor. Following a brief time driving heavy goods vehicles I then spent a further fourteen years as a Housing Officer for a Local Authority/Housing Association before being medically retired.
I have two children (and a growing number of grandchildren) from my first marriage, and following my retirement, met, married, and relocated to Spain with Melva.
This book is the first in my Andrew Michaels trilogy. Continue following his adventures in:-
Onward and Upward
and
Above and Beyond
Connect with me Online:
https://www.tonywilson.es
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