‘Lewis is in his best golfing shorts in a fetching grey and black check with added wine stains from this evening. He brought two pairs of trousers with him tonight,’ she said, straight-faced.
‘Two pairs?’ asked the golf captain as she had hoped he would.
‘Yes. The shorts are a little tight on him and he was anxious he’d get a hole in one!’
‘Nice one, Bryony,’ whispered Lewis. The audience cackled. She bowed in response.
‘Now, Lewis, I heard you don’t actually play golf, do you?’
‘Did a little birdie tell you that? No, I don’t but after tonight and meeting this lovely audience, I have a driving ambition to become a golfer!’ said Lewis after a moment’s deliberation. Bryony rolled her eyes dramatically causing more merriment.
‘You should have put that joke to one side,’ she offered.
‘Now, now. Golfing is serious stuff,’ continued Lewis, a large grin spreading across his face. ‘After all, it’s people’s bread and putter.’
There were more explosions of laughter and several people clapped. The golf captain turned towards the crowd.
‘It’s up to you all to decide if you think Bryony and Lewis should win.’
Bryony piped up, ‘Please choose us. If you don’t, it might put a wedge between us.’ She twirled to show off her outfit and left the stage to further applause.
Lewis threw his arm around her as they left. ‘You were brilliant and that was fun.’
Within minutes they were parading around the stage once more and puckering lips in exaggerated pouts before claiming the prize. Their table companions roared their delight as the pair returned with the magnum of champagne.
‘You were fabulous, Lewis,’ said Brigitte. You should consider going into male modelling as a career.’
‘I might now Bryony has shown me all it takes is some acting and a killer pout,’ he replied, pulling Bryony in to him and giving her a squeeze.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SUNDAY, 23 JULY – AFTERNOON
The aircraft, a swept wing business jet, was being marshalled into position as their taxi pulled up outside Wellesbourne Airfield, near Stratford-upon-Avon.
Bryony’s mouth dropped open. ‘No, surely not!’ She reached for Lewis’s arm in excitement and gave it a firm squeeze. ‘We’re going to fly to France in… a private jet?’
He beamed at her. ‘We’re either flying in the jet or in one of those!’ he said, pointing towards a couple of small Robinson two-seater helicopters, blades rotating as they prepared to take off. ‘If it’s the latter, one of us is flying it and that someone won’t be me.’
‘Idiot. I suppose it’s not likely we’ll be going in that either.’ She motioned towards the tiny silver-grey gyroplane headed towards the runway.
Lewis chuckled. ‘I’m definitely not going if we have to pilot our way across the Channel in that. I’d rather fix feathers to my arms and flap like crazy.’
‘Come on, let’s find out what’s happening,’ said Bryony, pulling at her seatbelt like an eager child and snatching at the door handle. ‘Sorry, I got a bit carried away. Did I hurt your arm?’
Lewis examined the area and shook his head. ‘It appears there’s no damage to be seen. I’m impervious to harm from sharp implements including female claws. I must be related to Superman.’
Their conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.
‘Lewis!’ shouted a familiar voice with a slight American accent. ‘This is awesome! I thought it was you. Are you a contestant for this show too?’
A figure looking stylish in a linen jacket, pressed jeans, blue T-shirt and dapper canvas shoes appeared from nowhere. Lewis’s face broke into an infectious smile when he spotted the young man hastening towards them. He pumped Oscar’s hand.
‘Hi, Oscar. It’s great to see you again.’
‘And you. And Bryony,’ Oscar responded, catching sight of her and wrapping her in a warm embrace of cologne. ‘This is mega. It’ll be such a hoot, won’t it? More so now I’ve discovered you’re both going to be on it too. I had such a blast at our audition.’
‘It was great. So, have you met anyone else from the audition?’
‘Oh, how rude of me! I’ve left the poor man guarding our bags. We both arrived early and had a cup of tea at the Touchdown Café. There were a bunch of pilots hanging out there so we talked to a few to try and guess what plane we’d be flying in. Did you guys see the jet touch down? I came out here to take a photo then I saw you guys. Hang on a second, I’ll go get him.’
Oscar scurried away only to return a few minutes later wheeling a small aluminium suitcase, a large tote bag over one shoulder. Marching behind him, carrying a holdall and dressed in dark trousers and blazer, and wearing a regimental blue tie with bright green stripes was Jim, the candidate with the large moustache.
‘Good afternoon. I understand we’re travelling in style today. I’ve been admiring the Avro Vulcan XM655 on the far runway. It’s a beauty. A chap was telling me it was third from last of the Vulcan bombers produced for the Royal Air Force and was part of the UK’s nuclear deterrent force throughout the 1960s and 70s.’
‘Hello, Jim,’ Lewis said, halting the monologue. ‘What a surprise to meet you again.’
‘Hello. Lewis, isn’t it? You’re the chappie who wants to own a vineyard in France.’
‘Ah, yes,’ replied Lewis. ‘I might have been a little economical with the truth on that particular subject,’ he confessed.
Jim shook hands and clicked his heels as he bowed forward towards Bryony.
‘And I of course I remember you. Never forget a pretty face. Bryony, isn’t it?’
‘You’re right, Jim. Lovely to see you again.’
A woman in her early twenties wearing a sleeveless pink cotton dress and wedged white sandals emerged from an office as they made their final introductions.
She welcomed everyone with a broad smile that revealed even, white teeth. ‘It’s great to finally see you all in person. I’m Roxanne, one of the researchers for the show. I was standing behind Laura during your Skype interviews so I’ve only seen you on screen. Jim, I have to say, you were hilarious in your interview.’
Jim straightened to his full height. Bryony half expected him to salute her. ‘I had no idea what was happening. Thankfully, my wife knew what to do.’
Roxanne chuckled and revealed to the group that Jim had spent most of the interview tapping the screen to turn up the volume while asking if he was on the correct channel. ‘I hope you’re as excited about this as I am. I can see you’ve met each other. You’ll have plenty of time to find out more about each other on your little jaunt to France today. Don’t give away too much though. You’ll be rivals tomorrow.’
The group chuckled.
‘You might have guessed we’ve arranged a special treat for you and you’ll be flying in the Citation 560 XLS aircraft—’
‘Also known as the Encore,’ Jim interjected.
‘Interesting. I didn’t know that. Anyway, the pilots are on board but they have been instructed not to communicate the whereabouts of your final destination. So, don’t ask them,’ she said, wagging her finger. ‘We’re keeping it as secret as possible until you get there for reasons that will become apparent. I can tell you though that you are currently standing next to your teammate.’
Bryony drew a sharp breath. Lewis threw her a wink. ‘Bryony and Lewis, you’ll be working together and Jim and Oscar, you too will be teammates. The other teams have been picked up from other airports and venues. You’ll meet some of them later. I’ll take you into the office to fill out the necessary documentation before we fly. First, I need to check you all have passports and driving licences.’
Bryony rooted through her handbag stuffed with paraphernalia required for the trip, and finally found her documents lurking under a bag of chewy mints. Looking up, she noticed Oscar was holding out two passports. Perplexed, she was about to ask why he had two passports when a small, black, apple-domed, bi
g-eyed, proud little face appeared from the top of the tote bag and stared at her.
‘Is that who I think it is?’ she said, putting her hand out to stroke the little pug dog.
Oscar beamed. ‘Indeed. This is Biggie Smalls. Say hello to everyone, Biggie.’ He allowed the dog to check out his travelling partners from the confines of the travelling bag.
‘I couldn’t leave him behind. He’d fret without me and probably demolish the apartment even if he had a dog-sitter. Besides, it’ll be an ideal opportunity to take some new photographs of him to post on Instagram. Look, he’s got the appropriate wardrobe.’ Oscar rummaged in the bag’s side pocket and extracted a small beret and a small striped jumper. He called his dog and plopped the beret on the animal’s head, earning a round of applause from Roxanne.
‘Isn’t he adorable?’ she cooed. ‘I’ve been following him on Instagram. He’s such a cutie. I loved the picture of him watching the Mercury Music Prize on TV wearing a mini COOGI hoody.’
Oscar flushed with pride. ‘Biggie’s got a few of those beautiful Australian COOGI sweaters. They’re not actually real COOGI sweaters though – they’re all exact replicas of the ones the Notorious B.I.G. used to wear. My Biggie’s a proper furry homeboy.’ He hugged the dog then released him from the bag. Biggie snuffled around their feet before sitting down to observe them.
Bryony took note of the pushed-in nose, expressive forehead wrinkles and the wide smile that Biggie was giving his new audience. He was a sturdy dog with small feet and a curly tail but it was his face that captivated her – his tongue lolled to one side making him appear comical. Biggie checked out everyone’s footwear once more before settling back in front of his owner as if to ask him a question. Oscar crouched down and patted him.
‘He loves being dressed up and is such a diva when he wants to be. However, he is a superb traveller. Come on, Biggie. It’s time to go back in your bag.’ Biggie reluctantly clambered back into the tote bag and observed the proceedings with a furrowed brow.
Papers checked, the small group led by Roxanne trooped towards the aircraft and up the steps.
‘Wow!’ exclaimed Lewis, eyes wide in surprise as he walked into the interior of the luxuriously appointed cabin.
‘Who’d have thought we’d be travelling in such style? I thought we’d be going to France in a minibus or a coach. Never thought for a million years we’d actually be flying in a private jet,’ stated Bryony, staring about the cabin. The executive interior was fitted with seven large individual seats in dark brown leather upon a chocolate-brown carpet. One was an individual seat near the cockpit, four faced each other and two were at the rear of the cabin. Highly polished walnut veneer accented by antique bronze plating complemented the colours.
‘Oh my gosh!’ exclaimed Oscar, bounding into the cabin and flinging himself into a seat at the back of the plane. He placed the tote bag opposite him on the floor. ‘This is awesome – awesomely awesome. These seats are gigantic. Even better than the ones in business class on American Airlines and definitely swankier than the expensive leather armchair in my apartment.’
‘And there’s infinitely more legroom than I had on my last flight with one of those budget airlines,’ declared Roxanne, dropping into the seventh seat. ‘We’ve got everything we could possibly need for the flight. There’s a refreshment centre and a toilet at the rear of the cabin. And there are even a few sandwiches,’ she added, pointing to a tray covered with cling film. ‘I’ll pass them out after take-off. Now, before we get going, it’s amnesty time. I have to confiscate all your mobile phones and any iPads or other tablet devices you’ve brought with you. As we explained during your Skype interviews, you are not allowed to use any electronic device to assist you in this game. You all received the emergency number for friends and family, didn’t you? It’ll be operational from now until you return to the U.K. so if your family need to talk to you, we’ll make sure they can. Has anyone brought a device with them?’
Oscar shook his head. ‘I left mine at home as asked even though I shall be helpless without it. I can’t imagine what Biggie’s followers are going to do without his daily updates. I’ll have to get through the rounds each day so I can give them all news of him. I brought my camera along instead. That’s okay, isn’t it? I have to be able to take Biggie’s photographs to upload when I get home.’ Oscar looked down at the tote bag. Biggie had disappeared, no doubt for a nap.
‘Cameras are acceptable. No one has a mobile device, then?’
Jim gave a small cough and twiddled his moustache. ‘I’m afraid I’m guilty as charged, Roxanne. My Cathy insisted I bring my mobile with me. Of course, I would never use it to cheat on the show. That wouldn’t be cricket at all.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t but you still have to hand it over, Jim. Sorry. Those are the rules. We can’t have you sneaking online to work out clues or puzzles.’
‘Fair enough, Roxanne,’ replied Jim, extracting his mobile from the inside pocket of his blazer.
Oscar stifled a laugh. ‘Jim! When exactly did you purchase that mobile? The 1980s?’ he asked, his voice rising in amusement.
Jim looked at the large, old-fashioned contraption, a puzzled look on his face. ‘I’m not too sure. It was while ago. It’s a Nokia – one of the best-made mobile units.’
Roxanne burst out laughing. ‘Jim, I ought to allow you to hang on to your phone. I seriously doubt you’d be able to use it to pull up the Internet. I don’t think it will have 3G, 4G or Wi-Fi. Sadly, though, I have to take it. You can’t have contact with the outside world while you are on the show.’
Jim looked bemused. ‘I have no idea what any of that means, Roxanne. The Internet doesn’t interest me so I don’t know if the phone has that capability or not. I only use it to make telephone calls. I refuse to use the texting thing on it. I can’t be doing with all this pointless modern technology. Why do people spend time writing out messages when they can pick up the phone and ask the question far quicker?’ he continued. Then, sitting up straight, he asked, ‘You take it though. I don’t want to break your rules. I was only going to use it to phone Cathy to make sure she was okay.’
‘I don’t want you to worry about her, Jim, but I can’t let you keep the phone. I’m sure if anyone needs to contact you they’ll use the emergency number I gave you to pass to relatives. We’ll make sure any message gets to you, whatever time of day or night.’
‘I understand. Here. You take it.’ He passed it across.
‘Nobody else? Good. I’m not permitted to divulge much about what’s happening next. When we arrive in France someone will be there to meet us. You’ll be driven to your accommodation and tomorrow morning at seven o’clock on the dot, the team will meet you in the library and everything will become crystal clear. I know it’s all very cryptic at the moment but it will make sense tomorrow morning. It all hangs on the element of surprise.’
‘This isn’t some hoax, is it?’ asked Lewis. ‘We believe we’re going to France and we take off and fly about for an hour but then land in Wales or the Isle of Wight and then one of your team wearing a beret and carrying a Tricolour flag comes up to us and asks us questions in a phoney French accent?’
Roxanne thought for a second. ‘Bother! You worked it out. You’d better all disembark then. No point in continuing.’
Seeing the looks of dismay, she gave a loud bark of laughter. ‘Had you going, didn’t I? You are definitely going to France.’
Bryony pulled at her seatbelt to ensure it was fastened. She said in awe, ‘I feel like a celebrity. I bet they fly everywhere in planes like this.’
Oscar whistled softly before saying, ‘Check out the seatbelt buckle. It looks like it’s made of gold. I wonder if I could unpick the stitching and drop it in my bag.’
‘Don’t you dare. I’m sure the company that owns this jet accounts for everything. You’ll get a bill if you steal it and, worse still, you might get thrown off before we even leave here.’
‘Shame. It would make a nice souveni
r.’
Lewis smiled across at Bryony, who had a faraway look as she stared over the airfield.
‘Okay?’ he asked softly.
‘Totally okay,’ she answered. ‘I was wondering who might have flown on this jet before us. Someone very famous or very important could have sat on these very seats. They could have been politicians headed for meetings abroad, or musicians headed for music festivals, or even actors going to award ceremonies. Vital decisions that affect millions might have been made by politicians or all sorts of interesting business could have been conducted in this very cabin at thirty-seven thousand feet.’
The captain interrupted the conversation. He introduced himself and went through the safety procedure. Within minutes the engines started up and before long they had taxied onto the runway and were surging upwards away from the airfield, above green fields and into a clear blue sky. Bryony could feel her spirits soaring along with the aeroplane and hoped that this adventure would lead her to her sister.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SUNDAY, 23 JULY – EVENING
It was early evening when the jet touched down and Bryony saw the large sign for Aéroport Nantes Atlantique over the terminal. They’d arrived in Brittany. A driver bearing a sign for What Happens in… was waiting for them as they came through the doors into the arrival hall. Roxanne raised her hand and greeted him in fluent French. They followed him outside and into the warm air. Oscar and Jim removed their jackets, slinging them over their shoulders.
‘This is Philippe. He’ll drive you to the hotel where you’ll be staying tonight. I’m heading to a different venue to join the crew who are camped there at the moment. We’ve got lots to arrange for the morning.’
Biggie emerged from his bag and snuffled at his master.
‘I have to take the little chap for a pee. I’ll be back in a second. Don’t leave without me.’
Oscar removed the dog from the bag and clipped a lead onto his collar. Biggie shook himself then trotted over to a nearby grassed area where he relieved himself against a sign marked ‘privé’.
What Happens in France Page 10
