CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
WEDNESDAY, 26 JULY – EVENING
Oscar was wide-eyed. ‘What a terribly sad story,’ he said finally, when Bryony had finished telling him about Hannah.
The cicadas were chirping in the garden and the evening air was filled with the smell of honeysuckle. Bryony rested her head against the sunbed cushion and sighed. Biggie, lying on the floor between the two loungers, licked her fingers. Oscar snapped a photo of them as she stroked him.
‘Thanks, Biggie. I think he just gave me a doggie version of a kiss.’
‘He’s intuitive. He’ll have picked up on you feeling sad. He does it to me, when I’m down.’
‘I’m not really sad as such. I suppose this is my last chance to find her. Dad is so ill and I don’t think he’ll be with us for much longer. I want him to see her one last time…’ Her words hung in the air and she swallowed back the lump in her throat. She’d given it her all in front of the camera this evening. She and Lewis had both appealed for help to find Hannah.
It had been an exhausting day. The garden was a haven and respite from the frantic activities and filming. Bryony had got used to the cameras, microphone packs and constant visits from Mattie the make-up lady to dab powder onto her cheeks or move a single hair away from her face. She’d become accustomed to the waiting when no one could speak until the crew was ready to continue. It had been interesting and fun. Meeting Oscar and Jim and being with Lewis had been wonderful, yet sat in the shade of the beautiful walled garden, she wished she could pause time and stay here for longer, away from her normal world, her day-to-day existence and the ever-present guilt that enveloped her like some toxic cloud. If only she had some idea of what was happening back home. Were people listening to her pleas and had anybody checked out her blog, Searching for Hannah and left her a message?
‘Can I ask you something, Bryony?’ Oscar said as Biggie leapt onto his lap.
‘Sure.’
‘I’m getting really worked up about winning. I only came on the show for a bit of a giggle. I thought it would help raise my profile as a dancer, like celebrities who go on dancing shows or eat nasty stuff in the jungle. But after spending time with Jim, I really want to win the prize. Not for me but for him. He’s such a nice man. His family means everything to him. He could do so much for them with the money.’
He paused and stroked Biggie’s soft head.
‘I wouldn’t worry. Just being here has been a real tonic for him. I don’t think winning holds as much importance for him as you may think.’
Oscar stopped to rub Biggie’s tummy. ‘I don’t want to let him down.’
‘You definitely aren’t letting him down. Look at the difference in him. He’s completely rejuvenated and a lot of that is down to you. He obviously loves having you as a teammate.’
He gave a smile and after a moment spoke again. ‘Thanks, Bryony. I wish I had a sister like you. I’d be able to ask you all sorts of things.’
Bryony flushed. ‘Are you an only child?’
‘No, I’ve got a brother, Joe. He’s three years younger than me. We’re not very close and we don’t have much in common. He takes after Pop. He’s a doctor. Pop’s an obstetrician and Joe’s a medical doctor. You call them general practitioners here.’
‘You didn’t fancy the medical profession yourself?’
Oscar let out a honk of laughter. ‘Heck, no. I’m no good at any science. I don’t have Pop’s brains, which is no surprise as he isn’t my real father. But he is, if you know what I mean. He’s always been my “real” father. He was always there for me when I was sick or needed anything. He tried to teach me baseball and soccer. He took me out to films and even sat and watched Billy Elliot with me. He’s terrific. Always interested in everything and everybody. You’d love him. He’s awesome.’
He waved his arms theatrically as he spoke. ‘I don’t know my biological father. He left us before I was born and then Pop came on the scene. Mom told me it wasn’t worth me tracking him down. He didn’t want anything to do with either of us and Pop is everything to me. What’s the point in searching for someone who can’t possibly be better, kinder or nicer than your own father?’ He fussed Biggie some more then closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
‘I was going to insist and track him down a few years ago but Mom looked so unhappy about it, I figured it wasn’t worth it. You know, I sometimes fantasize that my real father is a world-famous ballet dancer – someone like Joaquín Cortés perhaps – except I look nothing like him with my blonde hair and pale skin so it couldn’t be him. Or Ethan Stiefel. Unlikely, I know, but it would explain my love for ballet. In reality, my real father is probably nothing at all to do with dancing and is a middle-aged accountant with a bald head who likes drinking and playing darts and who has a stout wife who nags him all the time,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘I’ve loved dancing since I was tiny. Pop’s been great about my choice of career too. Not every man would be happy to take his son to ballet lessons. Both my parents have helped me every step and pirouette along my path. I’m very fortunate.’
Biggie fidgeted on Oscar’s knee. ‘I’d better take some photographs of him here to upload onto Instagram. I seriously can’t wait to get back online. It’s awful having no access to Wi-Fi. I keep fumbling for my mobile then remember I don’t have it with me. I don’t know how everyone managed before they were invented. Thanks again, Bryony. You’re a doll.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek.
‘Any time,’ she replied.
As he meandered away, Biggie by his side, Bryony stared up at the darkening sky and silently sent a message to the universe. Please send Hannah home.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
THURSDAY, 27 JULY – AFTERNOON
‘Come on, Furby!’ Lewis pumped the accelerator pedal. The sunshine streaming in through the windscreen was causing him to squint. At last the car sputtered into life and they made it onto the starting line.
La Pommeraye was a 2.5 kilometre hill climb and the trio of bizarre cars and film crew had attracted a large crowd of supporters who lined the closed circuit, cheering for each of the contestants as the cars raced by. Lewis and Bryony were the last to attempt the climb.
They waited by the lights, currently on red. It seemed to take an age for them to change.
‘Go… go… go!’ Bryony yelled as they tore up the hill past the spectators who waved at them. ‘Right bend!’ The car bore to the right, past a house outside which stood three children holding a sheet marked Allez Furby.
‘We have fans,’ said Bryony, clinging to the grab handle as they rejoined the main road and hastened past more fields. The circuit was an ordinary D road with some sharp bends and twists, railings to one side and all exits blocked off. It made for an exciting circuit although the furry Citroën was nowhere near as fast as the cars that usually competed in the annual hill climb.
Bryony adjusted her racing helmet. The strap was tight under her chin and she had to shout so Lewis could hear her commands. He could see the bends but it helped if she warned him of them too, given he had enough to manage with handling the vehicle.
There was no time to take in the fields of meadow flowers or the cows lazily grazing or the high banks of grass filled with people. Lewis was committed to finishing the race in the fastest time possible without crashing, and Bryony to holding on for dear life.
A bend to the left, another sharp one to the right and an inflatable bridge across the road bearing the name of the show. Cameras to the left and the right and cheering French people. They crossed the line.
Bryony high-fived Lewis. ‘Great driving.’
‘Bit different to that track day I did but not bad at all,’ he replied.
They climbed out of the car hoping they’d done enough to win the challenge.
* * *
Laura gave a tired smile. ‘Congratulations again, Oscar and Jim. I’m very pleased you got through too, Bryony and Lewis. It is a shame to say goodbye to Deepan and Mira on day four
of this contest. I’ll miss them, but I’m also pleased the finalists are the people I’ve got to know the best. Right, we’re down to the last two teams. Tomorrow we’ll begin filming at the Château du Torquet, listed as a historic monument and built in the seventeenth century.’
There were appreciative nods from Jim.
‘You’ll be there over the next two days and take part in two quizzes. The first is a general knowledge quiz and the second is a category round. I’ll go through it tomorrow morning.’
Oscar yawned and stretched. ‘That’s good. I can’t take in any facts tonight. My brain has officially checked out and left the building and I smell after all that driving. I need to shower and change.’
Laura looked at her watch. ‘I won’t be joining you tonight for dinner but Roxanne will and so will Professor David Potts.’
Oscar let out a high-pitched squeal. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ replied Laura. ‘He wanted the opportunity to get to know you a little before tomorrow. He’s not like a lot of celebrities who want to hide in their own hotel and get away from us all. He actually enjoys meeting people. I expect that’s one of the reasons he has such a tremendous following.’
Bryony threw a look at Lewis. His face was unreadable.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good time with David. We’re so pleased he’s hosting the show. It’s certainly helped boost ratings.’
Chairs scraped back and the room emptied, leaving only Bryony and Lewis.
‘Fancy getting a taxi into town and going to a café instead?’ asked Bryony.
‘That’s really nice of you but no thanks. You go to dinner. I’ll head off on a run. I’ve been sitting too long today. Some fresh air and a shower will make me feel better.’
‘I’ll bring you up a doggy bag then?’
He made a non-committal noise and went upstairs.
Bryony meandered through the back door and into the garden to drink in the evening warmth and reflect on the events of the day. She discovered a charming wrought-iron seat partly concealed by climbing roses and clumps of lavender, and she sat surrounded by peace. The heat from the late sun soaked into her body, easing her aches. She shut her eyes and sighed contentedly. She could definitely stay here forever.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’
She opened one eye. Oscar was standing on the twisted path, camera in hand. Biggie, wearing a baseball cap back to front, urinated contentedly in a flower bed. He spotted Bryony and trotted over, tongue out, sitting obediently for a pat.
‘You’re not interrupting.’
‘Sorry you didn’t win today. I was mega surprised we won the hill climb. I’m normally not a speed merchant at all. I honestly believed we’d be going home and I was so shocked when we found out Deepan and Mira were leaving. I’d got used to them being around. They were really chilled out about everything.’
‘Honestly, I’m happy for you. Jim was euphoric. I loved that little dance you did together when you found out you’d won. We couldn’t have lost to nicer contestants,’ she replied. Lewis had taken the defeat badly. He’d been convinced they’d won the hill climb and been very quiet since the results had been announced. Professor Potts hadn’t helped matters. He’d made several barbed comments about Lewis’s driving and needled him further. It was little wonder he didn’t want to spend any time with the man. They’d not spoken again about Maxwell but she was sure it ate into Lewis every time he set eyes on his rival.
‘Look, I don’t want to be out of order but when we gave our interview tonight, I asked all of Biggie’s fans to look out for your sister. It might help. Maybe one of them has seen her or knows her.’
Bryony was dumbstruck.
‘I wanted to do something to help. I hope you’re not offended.’
‘No. No. Not at all. That was so sweet of you. Thank you.’
‘It was nothing. I love happy endings and I so hope you get one. That’s all. I better get changed now. See you at dinner.’
He jumped up and with a breezy gesture disappeared around the corner of the building. Bryony decided she too ought to change for dinner and wondered if she could persuade Lewis to join them. It would be much nicer if he were there.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
THURSDAY, 27 JULY – EVENING
By eight o’clock Lewis had still not returned from his run. Bryony gave up waiting and decided to join the others. Laughter rose to greet her as she descended the staircase.
Jim, dressed in beige trousers, desert boots and a perfectly ironed short-sleeved shirt, was standing next to Professor Potts, resplendent in a white shirt, blue Victorian Jacquard waistcoat and Armani jeans. Roxanne, sitting by the window, was chatting amiably to Oscar. Biggie was wearing a gold pendant and a black baseball cap. He grinned at Bryony but remained fixed on Roxanne’s lap.
Professor Potts downed the contents of his glass and boomed. ‘Bryony, so glad you made it. Where’s your teammate, Lucas?’
‘Lewis, not Lucas,’ she replied, feeling her smile tighten.
‘Ha! Of course. I keep getting confused. Is he not joining us?’
‘He’s gone for a run. Driving all day made us both stiffen up,’ she answered.
‘He seemed a bit of a stiff,’ he joked, raising eyebrows at Roxanne to draw attention to his quip. Roxanne smiled in acknowledgement. ‘I’m sure Lucas, oh dear, there I go again, I mean Lewis, will feel much better after a long, sweaty run,’ said Professor Potts. ‘There’s little point in waiting any longer for him. He’ll probably be gone ages and we don’t want the food to go cold. Shall we go and eat? I’m ravenous. Bryony, why don’t you sit next to me and we can chat? I haven’t had the chance to find out much about you and you seem such an enchanting creature.’
Bryony cringed at his smarminess. Professor Potts was clearly not as charming and pleasant as she had initially thought. They drifted through to the dining room where Bertrand was waiting for them, a bottle of white wine in his hand. He circled the table. A middle-aged woman, white hair swept back in a bun and dressed casually in jeans and shirt covered with an apron, brought in a large tureen of soup. Bertrand stood to attention and announced, ‘French oyster soup, a typical Breton dish. I hope you enjoy it. Bon appétit.’
‘One of my favourite dishes,’ Professor Potts enthused, reaching for the serving spoon and ladling some into Bryony’s bowl. ‘They use the smallest oysters to make this soup. That’s what gives it the extra creamy texture and, of course, oysters are an aphrodisiac,’ he added, his eyes glittering. His hand brushed against hers as he set the bowl down and he glanced at her meaningfully. She thanked him and deliberately looked away.
‘So, did you all enjoy today?’ he asked.
‘It was a blast!’ said Oscar.
Roxanne took a sip of her soup and remarked, ‘This is good. Very good indeed. I bet my brother-in-law would really enjoy this soup. He’s from Marseilles.’
‘You should ask Bertrand to pass you the recipe for your sister to make it for him,’ said Potts airily.
Roxanne shook her head. ‘I think my poor, long-suffering sister has enough to do holding down a full-time job and looking after four children without preparing oyster soup. I try to help her out when I’m around. That’s what sisters do, isn’t it?’
Bryony felt the room swim as her words echoed in her head.
‘Earth to Bryony.’
‘Sorry. I drifted off.’
‘Fatigue,’ Professor Potts declared. ‘You were cooped up with Lucas for a long time. Must have been tiring.’
Bryony placed her spoon back on the table, preparing to correct him once and for all. Oscar saved her from speaking.
‘Lewis,’ he said quietly. ‘His name is Lewis. Not Lucas.’
‘Silly me. Oscar, tell me all about Biggie Smalls’ outfit. Is that a replica Jesus piece pendant he’s wearing or did you, like the rapper B.I.G. purchase it from Jacob the Jeweler?’
‘Hardly. This is a replica. I couldn’t stretch to an auth
entic pendant. My little Biggie wore it for a music magazine photo shoot last year and the magazine let us keep it. They dressed up several pugs to look like famous rap artists. Biggie had such fun and made lots of doggie friends. This Biggie Smalls prefers wearing jumpers to pendants. He only wears this piece on special occasions.’
‘Looking good, Biggie,’ commented Professor Potts, hiding a smirk behind his serviette.
‘Can I ask you something rather personal?’
‘Fire away, Oscar.’
‘Have you got a girlfriend?’
‘I haven’t had much time for relationships recently. I was pretty busy filming abroad for a new show about the natural world, and the last series of Mate or Date was demanding.’
‘You haven’t got a girlfriend. I find that very difficult to believe,’ Oscar continued. ‘I don’t mean to be nosey. It’s just I hang out with lots of ballerinas who’ll be insanely jealous when they find out I’ve had dinner with the handsome Professor David Potts, and the first question they’ll ask me will be about his eligibility.’
‘You can tell them I’m not dating anyone at the moment,’ replied Professor Potts, finishing his soup and wiping his mouth with a serviette. ‘Nor do I have any love interests. I’m young, free and single. What about you, Oscar?’
‘I have a girlfriend – Lucinda – who’s also a dancer. She’s a Brit but is working in New York. It’s one of those easy relationships at the moment – not too serious because we’re both so busy but she’s moving in with me in the fall and we’ll see how that works out.’
Bryony heard the creak of the front door as it opened and caught a glimpse of someone passing the dining room. It was Lewis. She suddenly felt the urge to share the news with him. If Professor Potts was indeed not seeing Maxwell then Lewis might stand a chance of rekindling his relationship with her. She thought about following him upstairs but a small voice fixed her in her seat. Did she really want him to rush back to Maxwell?
What Happens in France Page 20
