by Karen Aldous
Seb couldn’t understand her feelings. He was with his team and working most of the time. How would he know the emptiness of those long days or nights alone, isolated with nothing but hope; wishing, dreaming he would walk through the door. She accepted he couldn’t provide everything to widen her horizons, allow her to travel, but being able to take their daughter out would be educational, having a computer would benefit them both and, if she did contribute, he wouldn’t resent her so much. It could certainly help their relationship and could be a way to recapture what they’d had. She’d convinced her family she would be happy and was loath to admit defeat. As her mother had said, she had made her bed, she would have to lie in it. Alas, it was all she’d ever wanted and now they were at loggerheads and she didn’t know what to do. The work Ben had offered sounded exciting and one she could hopefully carry out without Seb finding out, but if that didn’t work out, she now at least felt worthy enough to try.
Arriving just before the Malpas tunnel, she stopped breathless before the path inclined. Perspiration poured from her skin as she twisted around and glimpsed at Charlotte.
‘Phew, you ok poppet? I feel a bit better, or at least invigorated. Let’s get to the library. We’ll find some lovely colourful books you can look at,’ she said, stepping off and wheeling the dusty new bike full circle so that it faced Beziers.
‘Butterfly, Mummy.’
Evie’s eyes trailed Charlotte’s finger to her saddle. On it, with twitching yellow tinged-wings, the swallowtail butterfly rested. There was something wonderfully hypnotic as it fluttered, revealing hues of effervescent blue and spots of red on its tail.
‘How beautiful. Look how exquisite that pattern is.’
‘Bootifal Mummy.’
They watched in awe at its form and symmetry, the sun shimmering, even on the darkest black. ‘I don’t think she wants us to go. She wants to ride with us but Mummy can’t sit on her, can she?’
‘Butterfly sitting, ha ha.’ Charlotte giggled. ‘Hello butterfly.’
‘Perhaps she’ll tell us how she’s changed from a tiny egg to a butterfly. She has been working hard. You see, from her egg she was born a caterpillar, you’ve seen one of those, haven’t you. And after days of feeding and spinning her silk she wraps herself into a chrysalis – like a little fluffy white ball – before emerging, days later, as this, a beautiful butterfly.’
It sounded so simple, Evie thought as it suddenly took flight. Such a little thing totally dependent on itself to transform. Perhaps she ought to depend on her own resources to climb out of her rut. She could spend many, many years alone with Seb away. The thought of falling down into those dismal depths, the thought of feeling so lost again… it was not appealing. So much of that time she’d spent seeking comfort, listening to Seb’s soothing tones as she played his tracks over and over, losing herself in a bubble of longing. It seemed such a waste now. It was time she found something to fit with her care for Charlotte. Despite Seb, she was determined. Maybe this work she’d do for Ben could be the start of something.
She recalled the short time she’d spent doing work experience at the ‘Cool Girl’ magazine. It had given her such a boost when Jane Loftus, the editor, had called her in her office for a one-to-one on her progress. She’d told her she had the imagination and drive to create fresh ideas as well as handle research. She’d been impressed with the compelling piece she’d written. Perhaps she should begin her writing again. If she made a good impression on Ben, maybe it would boost her confidence to do more. So much of her time was spent listening to music and escaping into books to blank out reality; waiting for Seb. What she needed was to think about the future, not the past. To be a butterfly, not a caterpillar.
With her mood brightening, she lifted her jaw and allowed the rays from the sun to caress her face. All she needed to do was look forward. What she needed was a plan and for Seb to meet her at least halfway. She would continue working on him and keep convincing him. Feeling the soft breeze sweep around her moist neck, she set off back under the shade of the plane trees. Now letting her muscles and mind relax, she began to absorb the serene surroundings, witnessing dappled light flitting through lush leaves, the hush of still water, unruffled, reflecting the tall leafy structures along its bank. Only the bicycle wheels hitting the odd stone broke the rhythm of silence. As the path flattened then rose, an absence of trees showered down light and opened a distant landscape where farmhouses nestled among rows of bud-filled vines.
Back past the bridge at Colombiers and a further small bridge by a holiday village, Evie slowed as she hit traffic. Walkers and other cyclists bunched on her approach to Fonserannes Lock. Passing at a wider stretch beside the top of the locks, she was brought to a halt. Unusually, a large crowd congregated. She peered round towards the building to her side. A white square board with bold red writing met her gaze.
‘ATTENTION! Filming in progress. Possible dangers. Thank you for your patience. Access will resume at 11.30 a.m.’
Through the crowd, she glimpsed a barrier was in place. Spinning her watch around on her wrist, she checked the time. Another forty minutes to wait.
‘Bah. Well, poppet, we might as well sit on the grass and have an early lunch, or a drink, at least,’ she said to Charlotte, lifting her leg over the crossbar and guiding the bike past the lock keeper’s house, and towards a grass verge.
‘Evie,’ someone called, a male voice, warmly familiar. Instantly it set her tingling. She scanned the outside of the building where the sound came from, a beguiling smile curled on her lips as the tall frame approached. Ice cream in one hand, he waved tentatively with the other.
‘Oh, Ben. Hi, I’d have thought you were down there with the crew.’
‘Oh, bit of red tape to clear up with the authorities. Sorted now, so my reward…’ he brandished his ice cream in the air. ‘I’m just going back down if you want to come with me.’
‘No. I was going to sit down here…’
‘You’re my chief researcher, come on, I’ll buy you both a drink.’
‘Well that’s what I was going into Beziers to do, actually.’ Evie grappled with her rucksack. ‘And, I’ve got drinks in my bag.’
‘Here, I’ll hold the bike while you take…’ he stopped, holding out his hand and squinting, ‘err, Charlotte is it?’
Evie swallowed as a faint blush brushed over her chest. He remembered. That was unexpected.
‘Yes,’ she nodded as he placed a firm grip on the handlebars, and sandwiched his legs around the front of the wheel. Unleashing Charlotte and taking her hand, she followed Ben through the crowd and stood behind him as he put his hand in the air. Looking down at the bottom of the deep staircase of locks, she could see Samantha, Ben’s assistant, sticking up a hand and showing a thumb. They slid through an opening beside the barrier and began to potter down the steep hill. A few people began to follow, but Ben held up his palm and, very politely, asked them to wait.
‘You’re going to be popular,’ Evie told him.
‘Not long now though. I just hope we have enough time. Ah, looks like they’re ready. Probably just waiting for us to get out of the way.’
Evie swept Charlotte into her arms, livening up her pace. ‘You should have said.’
‘How have you both been anyway?’ Ben asked, finishing off his ice cream.
‘Fine, absolutely fine. The new bike is good too.’
‘Well good to know it’s not getting a chance to gather dust.’
‘Actually, it probably is on these paths now, but, yes, I use it every day. I couldn’t imagine getting around here much with a pushchair.’
Reaching the café at the bottom of the slope, Ben parked the bike. ‘Go and take a seat, I’ll be over shortly.’
Evie chose a seat on the front overlooking the canal. There was so much choice. Usually, the café was rammed as she cycled by, this obviously wasn’t good for business. She felt rather important when a further horde of people observed her from the bottom barrier as she perched herself
and Charlotte among the vacant seats. Immediately, the waiter brought over a highchair and she sat Charlotte down. From her rucksack, she pulled out two small picture books and opened one up for Charlotte who immediately began pointing and gabbling.
‘Avez-vous choisi?’ the smiling young waiter asked.
In his absence, she ordered Ben a small beer, a coffee for herself, then peered round to survey the scene. Groups of men milled around in peasant clothes with pick axes, feigning work on a large grassed area beside the lock. On a lower section of the lock a cluster of women, also peasant-clad from the Riquet era, were accompanied by scruffy children. Further down, at the basin, nobler men with long curls dressed in pantaloons sashed at the waist and long jackets decorated with cravats were in discussion on a grass bank. No doubt, she figured, they must generate computer imaging to create authenticity with the background, but she found it fascinating. Ben must have a picture in his mind of the scenes and shots, and she was glad to see he had included the women. Her mind wandered as she gazed back at them. Who were they, she asked herself. What villages did they come from? Who did they leave behind? What life did they forsake to work here? And, was there anyone special for Mr Riquet among these women?
Questions still whirled as Ben, she realised, was now in front of her and his fresh scent breezed around her.
‘Looks good, don’t you think?’ he grinned, the glint in his eyes instantly forcing a crimson glow to her cheeks.
Just as she was about to speak, they were interrupted by the waiter placing drinks on the table in front of them.
‘Oh, I ordered you a small beer. Is that ok?’
‘Perfect, just what I need.’
‘So, yes, the costumes look amazing. I presume your main character, Mr Riquet, is among the dignitaries, there,’ she pointed to the far basin where a group of men appeared to be in heated discussions.
‘Yes, arguing his point, as usual. Quite convincing aren’t they. They’re just taking some scene shots with the doubles. They’re almost finished. The actors arrive next week.’
‘Oh, clever. And, the women?’ Evie sipped her drink.
‘Oh, the workers we’ll just take footage of for now. They don’t have lines. Samantha has found some superb ground we can work on for digging and channelling.’ Ben smiled, scratching his head. ‘So, I look forward to discovering what you can come up with.’
Evie found herself picturing in her mind a young woman leading a work team, and Mr Pierre-Paul Riquet catching his breath at her animation as she explains some simple solution to his problem.
‘So am I. I have so many questions in my head right now,’ she told him.
‘Brilliant. I just hope your findings don’t knock my script out of joint. I’m now convinced another character could add to it. Let’s wait and see, shall we?’
Evie couldn’t help but stare; his eyes glistened with passion for his work with no sign of tension in his jaw like before… and that beautiful mouth. She had to wonder at his calmness being a film director, he certainly knew how to delegate and trust his team, in comparison to Seb – who was afraid to relinquish his dominance and control and wouldn’t allow anyone to make decisions or overrule his say, unless it was something that was fun and suited him of course. No, Ben, it seemed, invited input from his team, and sought to add others’ creativity. She admired that quality in him, she had never met a man so good looking and so considerate, with enthusiasm so contagious. Each individual in his team showed willing and respect. She could almost hear his mind ticking as he perused his team at work. His attention flashed to Charlotte.
‘And how is your little helper, your research assistant?’
Unprepared for the snap question, Evie took in a breath. ‘Looking forward to a trip to the library, aren’t you Charlotte? She adores books.’
‘Classics, or a good thriller?’
Evie laughed. ‘Sit her with a pile of books and she’ll sit forever.’
‘Were you like that as a child?’
‘Totally. Books were my sanctuary. My sister excelled at maths which only amplified my inadequacies and sent me nose-diving into a book. What about you?’
Ben’s chin lowered to his chest. He tightened his lips, shaking his head. ‘I made every excuse not to read. I’m dyslexic and a slow reader. They thought I was lazy. Reading and writing was a miserable experience, until luckily a teacher recognised it and was able to suggest some strategies. My older sisters helped me greatly with those at home too, much to the disgust of my brother. I was getting all the attention, which built up resentment and it took him years to get over it. And it took me years to get over his tormenting. I had these weird glasses for a while and you can imagine how much mileage he got taking the piss out of me with those. But, I used to make up stories in my head and make storyboards, got used to visualising and etching out the stories I suppose, which evolved into using my dad’s video camera and making films. That was my way of dealing with my shortcomings.’
Evie felt touched that he could reveal so much of himself, an admiration surfaced in her. ‘I’ve heard dyslexics are very gifted and can be highly creative, particularly being able to see things in three dimension. That’s probably why you’re good with film.’
‘Apparently. It could just be that we’ve had to find another way but yes, I’ve heard we compensate in other ways. I tend not to dwell on it now. I still read and write slower than the average person, but there’s nothing wrong with my comprehension and I’ve probably landed a far more satisfying career than a lot of those guys who mocked me. Well, when I say landed, I’ve grafted and pushed myself through some gruelling, and at times uncomfortable, situations to make it happen – but I’ve focused on what works for me.’ He poured the remainder of the amber liquid down his throat.
Gazing at him with admiration, his words echoed through her: “focus on what works for me”. Those warm eyes glimmered at her.
‘I’m impressed. I wish I had your determination.’
‘Bringing up a child up takes a lot of determination, I imagine. I can’t wait to be a dad one day.’
‘Not all men think like you. My partner wasn’t happy about it. He was really against it when I told him I was pregnant.’ Evie thought of Seb’s reaction. Although, Ben did say “one day”, maybe his ambitions would prevent him too. Maybe he was more careful and took the right precautions with his conquests. He’d probably had lots of those too, like Seb. So alike yet so different. The thought occurred, both workaholics… yet Ben was much more grounded.
‘Oh?’
‘I was over the moon but when I told him, but it went down like the proverbial balloon. Worst time of my life. I was stupid to think he would be as pleased as me about it.’
‘It wasn’t planned then, I take it?’
‘No. We’d only been together about six weeks.’
‘I don’t suppose it was easy then if…’
‘We got on so well before,’ Evie bumbled, realising she had started something.
‘Ah I see. Yes. I’d want to make sure I was with the right person first,’ he said, appearing thoughtful.
‘I thought he was the right one and thought he felt the same…’ She clutched her throat, willing herself to shut up. She was blurting again and he was rubbing his head as though trying to decide if she was the village idiot or something. She glanced down at her coffee cup, then at Charlotte who was immersed in her book. Well, no matter what, she didn’t regret her decision to have Charlotte. She would never have been strong enough to face the alternative. That would have taken guts. Perhaps she had just been naïve in thinking Seb would have been pleased just because she was. Naïve in thinking they had a strong relationship too.
‘I hope I haven’t upset you,’ Ben said, invading her thoughts. ‘I’m not taking any sides here but in a situation like yours, isn’t it the case that you both have to do what is necessary and step up to the responsibility? Regardless of your feelings for one another.’
His lashes flickered down at her cof
fee cup. Of course she knew the answer – and she and Seb had both stepped up – but it left her with a question. Had they done what was right for them?
Rubbing his palms around his glass, he peered at her. ‘Again, you have to focus on what works for you.’ His lips curled into that comforting smile she found increasingly alluring. ‘I’d never have pushed myself without that philosophy. Like you, I’ve got one life and I plan to make the best of what I have.’
Evie remained quiet, scratching the back of her neck, those words resounding in her head again, “focus on what’s best for you”.
‘Anyway, I’m preventing you from this much sought-after research.’ Ben said easing out of his chair. ‘I’m afraid I have to go and wrap this up and move on, for now at least. We’re shooting up at the Malpas tunnel tomorrow.’
‘Oh, don’t let me stop you. Yes. I need to get on too,’ she said finishing her own drink.
Evie watched as Ben gave Charlotte’s cheek an affectionate stroke with his finger. He skirted the highchair and moved towards Evie, holding an arm out which she took to mean he was expecting her to stand to air-kiss goodbye. She got up obligingly, offering each cheek to his lips, rousing a rush of desire in her as she inhaled hues of spice. Feeling the blood race from her throat to her temples, she dropped her head to hide the embarrassment of her response, focusing her gaze on the empty glasses on the table until the shame vanished.
‘Oh, I’ll get the bill,’ she said reaching for her bag.
‘Absolutely not. These guys have been paid. We can’t expect them to lose money whilst we shoot. It’s been a joy to see you again. Hope the research goes well,’ he said with a wink as he marched away. She was like a plant that had been stuck in the shade, with brown crumbling foliage. But now she felt her leaves beginning to shoot upwards. She wondered if placed in the sunshine, she would allow herself to bloom.
