‘Cool.’ Oscar, stroked Biggie’s head. ‘Back to your tiny bed. No more loafing about in a castle for you, Biggie boy.’
Laura continued. ‘There’ll be another short break while we shift across to the Louis XIV room for that, during which time, you’ll come back here for refreshments. Once we’re ready, we’ll be filming Sunday’s grand finale show which will be transmitted at 7 p.m.’
‘That’s the usual time the live events are aired,’ said Jim.
‘That’s right, but obviously it won’t be live. You’ll record it later today.’
‘Understood,’ he replied.
‘Professor Potts will do a round-up of what you scored over the week and your cumulative points will be totalled. There’s a specially made scoreboard showing the results in the room. That’ll be when we want to see all those emotions. We want lots of oohing and aahing. We want visible disappointment. We want tears, cheers and lots and lots of energy.’
Lewis gave Bryony a wink. She interpreted its meaning and gave him a warm smile. Maybe there’d be time to be energetic with him later.
* * *
‘Bear with us, folks,’ said Laura for the umpteenth time in an hour. ‘We’re almost ready.’ The teams had drunk enough coffee to keep them hyped for a month and were desperate to complete the second round of the day. The first quiz, What Happened in France, which would be beamed into sitting rooms in the UK later that day, had been another hard-fought quiz with Lewis and Bryony only just snatching victory from Oscar and Jim.
The room they’d been recording in had been stuffy, more so with all the crew members in there with them, and now the teams were hot and tired. The constant filming and efforts of the week were taking their toll, and not even the magnificent building they were filming in, or the buffet-style breakfast of an array of charcuterie and pastries, cheeses and fruit seemed to cheer the contestants.
Roxanne had brought along a couple of games for them to play while they waited but the wooden blocks had long since been packed up and Oscar and Lewis were discussing football versus American soccer. Jim, alone for a moment in a corner of the room, was studying the photograph of his grandchildren. He returned it with care to his wallet and leant back in his chair, head propped against the wall, eyes closed.
Bryony was beginning to wonder if they would actually manage to complete the filming that day or if they’d have to stay over an extra night. The thought made her face glow.
‘You understand the rules?’ Laura asked again.
Jim looked up. ‘This quiz is being filmed for tomorrow night’s show, right?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Jim continued, ‘The winners receive five points which are added to the total number of points the team has won over the entire week. You calculate how many points both teams have won this week and the pair with the highest score, that is the greatest number of points in total, wins the prize money.’
‘That’s spot on.’
‘So, if we win this category round, we haven’t necessarily won the entire competition?’ Oscar still looked uncertain.
‘That’s right. We’ll work out which team has won the greater number of challenges, received the most number of points and that couple will win the ten-thousand-pound prize.’
Oscar nodded. ‘I think I’ve grasped it. Sorry. I’m so out of energy. I’ve no idea how my brain will manage yet another session of grilling.’
A burst of static from the walkie-talkie and some garbled dialogue got Laura animated. It was time to start recording. They trooped down the labyrinth of corridors and into yet another room where they faced Professor Potts, who was muttering his lines as if reciting a crazed monologue.
The cameras rolled once more and the last round began.
‘It’s Saturday, day six… Shit, it isn’t, is it? It’s day seven. Who decided to make this so complicated?’
‘Cut! We’re filming for tomorrow night’s show, Prof. It’ll be day seven. Sunday, day seven, okay?’
‘Yes…yes… I’ve got it. It’s been a bloody long week, you know?’
‘Don’t we know it,’ came back the reply.
Potts shook himself like an athlete and tried once more. ‘It’s Sunday, day seven, and the final day of What Happens in.... We’re once again at the magnifique Château du Torquet and are gathered in the library of this grand building, where you would need several months to browse through the impressive collection of over three thousand books.’ He swept his arms wide so the camera could take in the floor to ceiling shelves filled with volume after volume of hard backed books each with intricate lettering on aged spines.
Bryony pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. That was a remarkable collection of books.
‘Our teams are almost at the end of their mammoth adventure. Seven days of gruelling challenges that made them pit their wits against each other, and physical challenges that sorted the men from the boys, and now we’re exhausting our contestants’ brain power. Oscar – delightful Oscar – slave to Biggie Smalls, you and Jim lost the round yesterday entitled What Happened in France?’ Potts moved forward to address the pair more intimately. ‘You therefore have the right to select the first of our two categories in this, the final round of the competition. Oscar, what do you fancy: “Pieces of Eight” or “Masterpieces”?’
‘I reckon “Masterpieces” will be mostly about art and that’s not one of my strengths,’ murmured Jim. Oscar agreed. ‘If we choose the other category, it could be about coins or currency.’
‘If it’s currency, we’ll be fine. Oscar, you’ve been a splendid teammate, a real trooper and I trust you implicitly. Let’s go for it,’ said Jim, slapping Oscar on the back. ‘We’ll take “Pieces of Eight”, please, Professor Potts.’
‘So, you’re answering questions on “Pieces of Eight,” Professor Potts confirmed. ‘The time will begin as soon as I finish asking the first question…’ He paused for effect then read, ‘Before the introduction of the euro, which country used the drachma as its currency?’
‘Greece.’
‘Correct. Whose portrait appears on the US two-dollar bill?’
Oscar waved his hands in excitement and squealed, ‘Thomas Jefferson.’
* * *
‘“Money Makes the World Go Round” comes from which musical?’
‘Cabaret,’ shouted Oscar, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
‘Correct. What—’ A buzzer sounded. Professor Potts looked at the men, who were now eager to know the outcome of the round. ‘I can’t finish that question. We’re out of time. At the end of two minutes, you have scored eleven correct answers, giving you a total of thirty-three points. Some of those fell in your lap, eh, Oscar?’
Oscar’s head bobbed up and down and he clung to Jim’s arm.
‘So, Bryony and Lewis. You have been left with the category “Masterpieces” in this, our last quiz of the entire competition. Are you ready?’
‘As we’ll ever be,’ said Bryony.
‘Time begins at the end of the first question. Which French artist, born in 1834, was best known for his paintings of ballet dancers?’
‘Toulouse-Lautrec,’ answered Lewis with gusto before Bryony could open her mouth.
Bryony shook her head. ‘No, he painted cancan girls at the Moulin Rouge.’
Lewis whispered, ‘Sorry.’ She smiled back at him.
‘That’s right, Bryony. The answer is Edgar Degas.’
* * *
‘Which artist is famous for his statue, The Thinker?’
‘I think he created The Kiss too,’ said Lewis, giving Bryony a meaningful look.
She called out, ‘Auguste Rodin.’ A rush of warmth tinted her cheeks a light rose.
With each correct answer Bryony had been gaining in confidence and now she knew she was within a heartbeat of beating Jim and Oscar’s score.
‘Correct. When was the iconic painting The Last Supper painted?’
Bryony tipped her head back with relief and blessed the fact they’
d looked at and talked about the painting in Hotel Petit Château on their first day. She opened her mouth to answer and caught a glimpse of Jim. His eyes were shut, his face contorted, and he clung onto Oscar’s arm. She knew in an instant she’d been wrong when she’d told Oscar she thought winning wasn’t important to him. It was as clear as day that winning the show meant everything to the man. The vision of Jim looking at the photograph of his grandchildren and the way his face had glowed when speaking about his family, flashed in front of her eyes. She recalled the excited, proud faces of his grandchildren on the television screen in the library, and the warm smile his wife Cathy had given him, and she knew Jim had to win.
‘1850,’ she said flatly. Lewis shot her a look. The buzzer sounded. It was the end of the round.
Professor Potts shook his head at her as a parent might at a wayward child before saying, ‘Oh Bryony, bad luck. You were well out with that last guess. The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci was painted between 1495 and 1498.’
He turned towards his autocue and the camera, beamed at it and announced, ‘We’ve come to the end of the final round. It was a close-run thing. Bryony and Lewis, you scored ten correct answers, giving you a total of thirty points. Good job, Bryony. Shame about the last answer but I think you showed you know a lot about art. And, Lewis, Rodin sculpted many pieces including the iconic The Thinker, The Burghers of Calais and, of course, The Kiss, which is believed to have been inspired by his assistant, lover and muse, Camille Claudel,’ he added, a smug expression plastered across his face.
Behind them an ecstatic Oscar pirouetted before hugging a beaming Jim.
‘Congratulations, Jim and Oscar! You are the winners!’ Potts drew a deep breath. ‘Thank goodness. We managed it all in one take. Everyone happy out there?’ he asked the film crew. A man in a headset nodded at him. ‘Terrific. Looks like we’re on for an early lunch then.’ He pulled out his earpiece, handed it to a member of the technical team and walked off without speaking to any of the contestants.
Once again, they trudged back into the restaurant. Oscar raced off to walk Biggie, accompanied by Roxanne and floor manager, Terry, who needed another cigarette break. Laura chatted to an elated Jim, face alight with pleasure.
‘You threw the last question,’ Lewis hissed quietly. ‘Why?’
Bryony raised her face to his. ‘I realized this competition was hugely important to Jim. He’s a proud man. Jim needs that feeling of accomplishment, of satisfaction, of self-worth. Oscar told me as much the other evening in the garden, but I didn’t believe him until I saw the desperation on Jim’s face earlier. I don’t need to win this competition but he does. I’ve had a chance to tell everyone watching about Hannah and that’s really what I wanted to do. I’d have only given my half of the winnings to charity but in reality, I can raise money in other ways. I can do a sponsored skydive or shake a tin at strangers in town but winning is important to Jim. I felt I had to give him an edge in the competition. By my calculations, they should walk it now. They’ve won more rounds than us: day two they won the treasure hunt, the hill climb on day four, and two of the quizzes.’ She looked away to make sure she’d not been overheard. ‘I’m sorry I’ve robbed you of the chance to win the money. I hope you don’t mind,’ she whispered. She felt Lewis’s hand on the centre of her back, its heat penetrating her skin. His lips were close to her ear.
‘You’re a very special lady,’ he murmured before pulling away.
Jim wandered over. ‘Bad luck,’ he said kindly. ‘I didn’t know the answer to your last question.’
‘That’s the way it goes. So, you’re one step closer to winning the contest. Excited?’
‘My dear, I can’t explain how I feel at this moment. It’s a mixture of anxious suspense tinged with sadness that we can’t all win. I’ve had a marvellous time here, and whatever the outcome is, I’ll still feel like a winner. I’ve met all you remarkable people and relished every moment of the last week.’ He leant forward and whispered, ‘I even like that funny little dog. I’ve had my photo taken with it. Oscar is going to put it up on “Instant Gran” or whatever it’s called. My granddaughters are into all that modern stuff. It’ll be a surprise for them when they see me with a gangsta dog,’ he chuckled, his face crinkling.
Bryony warmed further to the man. He was older than her father but being away in France and being in Oscar’s buoyant company had revitalized him no end.
‘Talking of which, there’s my partner in crime. Must go and congratulate him on some of those responses. He’s a remarkably bright young man.’
He scurried off to backslapping and chuckling from Oscar as both relived the last round and Biggie danced about with a happy grin on his face.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
SATURDAY, 29 JULY – AFTERNOON
Laura stood next to the door waiting for confirmation that all was set to go. She was sporting a headset and microphone much like a pop star or an exercise class teacher would wear, and she looked even more tense than the contestants, her fingers drumming against her clipboard. From time to time, a crackle of incoherent voices erupted from the walkie-talkie strapped to Laura’s waist.
Oscar performed some stretches against a chair with grace. Lewis sat opposite Bryony, elbows on the table. They glanced at each other from time to time and smiled but neither spoke. It wasn’t the time or place to share what was in their thoughts. Following the live event and the shock of seeing Maxwell on the screen the evening before, they’d eaten dinner with Oscar and Jim, a meal that had stretched late into the night and, after consuming too much wine, she’d turned in before Lewis, leaving him in a semi-drunken stupor with Biggie Smalls curled up in his lap, deep in conversation with the others about New York at Christmas. There’d been no opportunity since to talk in private and they’d have to wait until the filming was over.
He glanced over and gave her a wink that she returned. The ringtone of a mobile phone fractured the silence. It was the emergency phone. Jim glanced up at the sound, a look of panic spreading across his face. Roxanne retrieved the phone from the table and spoke quietly. ‘Sorry, you’re not making much sense. Okay, that’s better. Can’t it wait? He’s about to go onto set,’ she said. ‘No, don’t cry. I’ll fetch him but please be quick. We’re expecting to get called very soon.’ With a grave look on her face she handed the phone to Lewis. ‘It’s Maxwell. She says it’s important. She sounds very upset,’ she added quietly.
A jolt like an electric shock raced through Bryony. She tried to catch Lewis’s eye but he ignored her, strode towards Roxanne, took the phone and headed to the toilets to speak in private.
At the same time the walkie-talkie sprang into life babbling commands and unintelligible sounds. Laura listened to the voice in her headset. ‘Cool. We’re on our way. One moment. We’re waiting for one of them. He won’t be a minute.’ She clapped her hands in excitement, and her ponytail swung from side to side as she scanned the room to speak to everyone. ‘The moment you’ve been waiting for is here at last. This is the grand finale. Good luck to you all and don’t forget, let’s see loads and loads of energy. This will be broadcast instead of the live event tomorrow night, and we’re anticipating well over five million viewers or maybe more.’
The sound of scraping chairs filled the room. Biggie jumped up at Jim’s leg, his tongue out. Jim bent and patted the little animal. ‘I hope you’re my good luck charm,’ he whispered. Oscar put his arm across Jim’s shoulders and spoke softly to him. Bryony turned. Lewis marched towards her, lips thin, face set, eyes blazing.
In a gruff tone he said, ‘Let’s go.’
There was no time to talk to him. She silenced her thoughts and concentrated on the instructions being issued by Terry.
‘We’re ready to shoot,’ shouted a voice.
‘Waiting for the professor,’ replied Terry.
‘I’m here,’ called a voice from behind them. He snatched his earpiece from a technician and stuffed it in his right ear. ‘Had to nip to the little boys’ room
. Hope I’ve not held you all up. Bet you’re all nervous. So am I,’ he added, looking anything but. He wandered up to the front of the line and coughed dramatically.
‘Prof’s here. Get ready, cameras.’
‘Rolling.’
‘Action!’ The board snapped loudly.
The door to the Louis XIV room opened and Bryony’s eyes fell upon ornate framed paintings hanging on the walls and huge wooden cabinets filled with porcelain objects and china. With its high ceilings and opulent wallpaper, it was very grand. It even smelt grand – the aroma of aged wood and polish filling the vast space. She halted beside the others. Potts squinted at his autocue. He coughed then began. ‘Bonsoir from la belle France and welcome to what is normally the live event but tonight is the grand finale of What Happens in…, coming to you from the Château du Torquet in Brittany. We began the week with eight teams of enthusiastic contestants and now only two remain, but which pair has won the key to the treasure chest? Who will be walking away ten thousand pounds richer? Let’s invite the contestants, Oscar, Jim, Bryony and Lewis to stand by their pedestals for the last time.’
They moved in silence, aware of the blinking lights and a large group of people watching from the darkness. A large board in front of them lit up. At one end of it were two cartoon cars waiting at a starting line. The first was yellow and black and the other brown. At the other end was a finish line and behind that, a treasure chest.
Potts began his speech. ‘And here we have our special board. On it we have the little Citroëns our contestants drove for some of their tasks. Thanks to the magic of technology, we’re going to be able to see who has won the What Happens in… prize.’
He stopped to wait for the autocue to move. ‘It’s stuck. Come on, guys. We need to wind this up. It’s been a long few days and I have an important meeting after this.’
What Happens in France Page 24
