Читать книгу Escape to the Riviera: The perfect summer romance! - Jules Wake, Jules Wake - Страница 15

She gave the butterflies in her stomach a stern talking to as she crept along the hall. They had absolutely nothing to get in a tizz about. Now all she had to do was pray that she could leave the house before Jade woke up and she had to answer any awkward questions.

Of course, no one paid the least bit attention to her prayers.

‘Carrie, wait! Where you going?’

She’d taken two scant steps out of the front door. Her heart sank like lead weight plummeting to the absolute depths of the ocean. Seriously? Was someone having a laugh?

‘I thought I’d pop out for an early-morning drive, perhaps bring us some fresh croissants back.’ Carrie kept walking, the car keys in her hand. ‘Quick explore.’

‘Great idea. I’m starving. Get me to la boulangerie. That’s French for bread shop isn’t it? Ooh they’ll have chocolate croissants. Pain au chocolat. I’ll come with you.’ Jade stooped down and slipped on her flip-flops and padded down the steps.

‘You don’t want to do that. Stay here. I might be a while.’

This was as bad as that time when she was eighteen and almost at the front of the queue in Boots with a pack of condoms and her mother bearing down despite arranging to meet outside Woolworths.

‘That’s okay, I don’t mind.’

‘Yes, but I might stop somewhere. A market.’ Carrie had reached the car door, narrowly averting disaster by remembering at the last minute not to get in on the passenger side. ‘Visit a couple of churches,’ she said, with the flourish of a poker player producing a Royal flush. There, the C-word. If that didn’t put her off, nothing would.’

‘No worries. I’ve got my phone, my sunnies.’ She waggled her sunglasses up and down from where they’d been perched on top of her head as she drew level with Carrie on the other side of the car. With a sudden grin, she added, ‘And I can scrounge some cash from you if I need anything.’

‘What about your Mum? You can’t leave her on her own all day.’

‘It won’t be all day, will it?’ replied Jade, with infuriatingly correct logic. ‘Besides she’s happy as anything in that kitchen. She’s not going to miss me. Probably like having the place to herself.’

Jade swung open the passenger door and plonked herself in the seat, reminding Carrie of an over-eager family dog in anticipation of a day out.

This was going to be a disaster. If she did stumble across the film crew by some incredibly happy and coincidental accident, how the hell would she get rid of Jade? These days a Mars Bar and illicit Coca Cola wouldn’t cut it as a bribe. They weren’t quite as alluring as they’d once been. Jade’s taste had broadened as well as going up dramatically in price, although these days you needed to take out a loan for a simple chocolate fix.

‘I think we should wait for your mum to get up and see if she wants to come too. At least tell her we’re going out.’

‘That’s dull. Where’s your sense of adventure? Carte blanche. Seize the menu. We should go now. Mum won’t mind.’

Carrie paused. Her sense of adventure had long since got up, packed its rucksack and two-man tent and hiked out of Dodge. Seizing a menu was much more her style. Sadly.

‘It’s carpe diem—’

‘Duh! I know that. Anyway it’s too late because there’s Mum.’

‘Morning! You two running away already.’

‘Hi, I’m heading off to see if I could find a bakery and bring back some fresh croissants but Jade stopped me. Would you like to come too? We can wait if you want to get ready.’

Angela immediately understood.

‘That sounds lovely. Jade, have you switched off your hair straighteners?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you sure?’

Jade shrugged.

‘I thought not. Go back and check them now.’

‘Mummm!’ She slouched back into the house.

Carrie shook her head. ‘Your daughter’s a blinking limpet. I thought I’d never shake her off.’

‘If I come with you, you can ditch both us and you can check out the market.’

‘Or I could do a runner now?’

‘And what … your life would be worth living for the next few days?’ Angela laughed. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready. You can treat us to those croissants for breakfast.’

Carrie took it slowly. It was a gorgeous morning and the views around each bend were distracting, with their frequent glimpses of sea, when she needed to focus on the task of changing gears with the wrong hand.

‘It’s mega-blue. Do you think its bluer than other places?’ asked Jade from the back seat. ‘Is that why they call it Côte D’Azur? Azure’s a posh word for blue.’

‘I’ve no idea, but it’s lovely.’ Carrie was concentrating on the road, to be honest.

The drive didn’t take very long at all and suddenly they were on the outskirts of the village.

‘Sing out if you see a car park,’ said Carrie, manoeuvring carefully as the streets closed in, the high kerbs and unfamiliar position on the road making her slightly nervous. And there was traffic, lots of it, some of which demonstrated an unnerving style of driving. A horn blared from the Mercedes behind them when she slammed on her brakes to avoid a small white van veering out of a side street, cutting right in front of them. It wasn’t even her fault. She glared in the mirror, not that the owner of the great white beast behind them could see. Angela’s hands twisted on her lap and she shrank back from the door, her shoulder touching Carrie’s.

‘I did read in one of the guide books that you take your life in your hands driving on the Riviera.’

‘You did, did you? Thanks for the heads’ up.’

Angela coloured. ‘I didn’t …’

‘I’m teasing.’ Carrie reassured her, knowing that her sister would worry that her comment had been misconstrued. It had the potential to worry Angela for days. ‘The drive from the airport turned out absolutely fine. You get idiots like that at home.’

Angela relaxed and Carrie heaved an internal sigh.

‘Let me entertain you, leeet meeee …’ Jade burst into song, thrusting her arm through the gap between the front seats to indicate a blue parking sign pointing to the left. ‘Let meeee spot the car park for you.’

‘Oh dear god,’ muttered Carrie. ‘Thanks, Jade, for your timely directions.’ She swerved into the turning, to a fresh cacophony of horns. She might as well join the mad local drivers.

‘You said sing out … I did.’

‘I don’t think yelling in her ear is terribly helpful, Jade. You might have distracted her.’

‘Might have, I almost hit that cyclist.’

Jade shrugged. ‘You’d have driven straight past it, if I hadn’t.’

Why saying in a normal voice, ‘there’s a car park over there,’ wouldn’t have worked perfectly well, Carrie didn’t know.

‘Isn’t this lovely?’ Angela kept stopping to examine the flowers overflowing and trailing down from window boxes perched on the stone stills of sun-baked houses and peering up at the vines growing from pots that crowded into the narrow streets. The lush greenery tracing its way across the walls with fingers of ivy and tendrils of wisteria was thrown into vibrant contrast by the warmth of old brick and peach washed stone.

They wandered up the hill, their shoes slipping slightly on the smooth old stones, along the streets that held an air of otherworldliness with their secretive recessed doors opening onto geranium pot-filled steps and tiny windows, with painted shutters like wings on either side. Carrie imagined that if you picked up a pot you might find a trefoil curved copper key to unlock one of the wooden painted doors and transport you to another world.

‘How much further’? Jade stopped and rubbed at her toes. ‘I’m getting a blister. The signal here’s rubbish. Can’t even send a text and there’s no 3G.’

Carrie closed her eyes and counted to ten. It would be pointless trying to point out to Jade that she hadn’t been invited in the first place.

‘Maybe there’ll be an internet café, where we can stop later,’ said Angela. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can find a baker.’

As if the fairies in the elaborate tracery of plants had been listening, the artery of streets joined a larger one and suddenly they were in a street of cafés and touristy shops.

‘Time for a coffee and a sit-down,’ declared Angela, with a telling look Carrie’s way. ‘And we might be able to find some plasters for your toe, Jade.’

‘And while you’re doing that I’ll see if I can find the tourist office and get a couple of maps of the area.’

‘Great idea,’ said Angela, almost bundling her away.

Abandoning them, with Angela musing over what coffee to order, Carrie hurried off before Jade could decide she might be missing out on something and decide to limp after her.

Following the directions, the owner of the coffee shop had given her, after a few false turns, she turned down what should have been a dead end and suddenly pitched into the noise and bustle of the market.

Striped canvas roofs covered stalls piled high with food so bright and colourful, her mouth watered. Angela would be in seventh heaven. The nearest stall exploded with a cornucopia of fruit and vegetables, displayed with artistic precision. Ruby-red fat strawberries squatted next to scarlet redcurrants and white-blushed blueberries, while grapes, red and green, jostled together in between rows of shiny plums.

Across the way a stall stacked high with salamis like Jenga caught her eye. What if you removed one and the stack stayed upright, perhaps you could have it for free? The thought made her smile. And if you sent the pile tumbling to the floor, you had to buy the whole lot.

Next to them were baskets filled with a variety of cured meats from linen-wrapped Bayonne hams through to the local thinner sticks of meat, Bistouquette Provençale and then short fat salamis available in different flavours, Sanglier, Piment, Canard, Chèvre, Fumé or aux cepes priced at four for ten euros.

It would have been nice to have her own basket and she could fill it with all the amazing goodies, like the other French women scurrying along, weighed down with bags, haggling with stall holders and exchanging ribald banter.

The crowd, busy with purpose, jostled and pushed, propelling her along as part of the tide of shoppers. She didn’t mind. For the first time it felt like she was in France proper, stepping into another world with the smells, the sights and the sound of French spoken at a machine-gun-rattle pace, the guttural consonants flowing into each other – a stream of incomprehensible words.

When she reached the end of the row and turned into the next one, the throng of people slowed its pace, like liquid wax cooling, and the path through the market steadily became more congested. Whispers and nudges, nods of ‘come see this’, rippled through like a Mexican Wave. It was difficult to see what was going on but as she craned her head, she spotted the unmistakable fluffy torpedo of a boom mic.

With a gulp, she swallowed hard and smoothed down her skirt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Happy, no, convenient, coincidences happened in films and books, not in real life. When she’d set out this morning, in her heart of hearts, she hadn’t expected to find the film crew. It had been one of those deliberately fooling-yourself moments that you’re doing something positive when you know it’s no such thing because it’s never going to happen. Now it had and she was totally unprepared.

For a while she stood, happy to hide in the crowd, far too scared to worm her way forward because she hadn’t the foggiest what she would do if she got to the front and spotted Richard. With the inevitability of the ebb of the tide, as people became bored, they relinquished their place and Carrie found herself sucked to the front of the crowd, two rows back. Artificial light cast from several arc lamps lit up the shaded market stalls on the right-hand side and beyond them, a row of vans and trucks lined the road.

The butterflies, she told herself earlier not to get in a tizz, suddenly took flight in a frenzied rush, bouncing around her stomach, leaving her breathless and wide-eyed. She’d never imagined she’d stumble across the filming, although she’d made a massive assumption about it being the right film and that Richard might even be here. The dammed butterflies didn’t give two hoots about that. They were making a do-or-die attempt to escape right through her stomach wall.

There was no sign of any filming taking place, although quite a lot of people buzzed about, zipping backwards and forwards, looking terribly busy and important. A girl with a clipboard and headphones was nodding urgently with two men, both of whom looked as if they’d been sleeping rough in the streets for the last couple of nights. Over in the corner, a cameraman was laughing with a small group of people who had to be extras and the soundman was dismantling the long pole of the boom.

Carrie squeezed behind two women of indeterminate age, who were excitedly whispering to each other in English. Both were dressed as if they’d recently stepped off a golf course, in smart chino shorts, matching T-shirts and peaked sun visors. One was slightly taller than the other and Carrie heard her addressed as Hilary.

‘That was definitely him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, no, but it might be him,’ said Hilary.

‘Excuse me?’ The two women swung round. ‘Do you know what they’re filming? Or who’s in it?’

‘Shh, you have to be quiet,’ said Hilary nudging her and nodding towards one of the two scruffy men. ‘The director keeps getting shirty because we’re making too much noise. He keeps threatening to move us on.’

‘Hmph,’ said the other woman with a disdainful sniff, ‘I don’t know why. It’s a public place. What does he expect? And, quite frankly, he looks as if he should have been moved on. A good wash and scrub wouldn’t do him any harm.’

‘Apparently,’ said Hilary, in a confiding whisper, ‘it’s an American film. Hollywood. Blockbuster. Big names.’ Her eyes widened with each phrase making Carrie wonder whether she might dislocate something.

‘Is it anyone famous?’ Carrie asked, her words almost sticking in her throat.

‘Famous? Oooh yes! It’s that fella from,’ Hilary turned to her friend, ‘what’s that film he was in? You know thingy.’

‘Oh, that one. Yes. The one where he drove that—’

‘—silver car.’ Hilary nodded. ‘And it had a dog in it.’

Carrie bit back a smile at their conversation, as incomprehensible to her as it was clear to them. They reminded her of a married couple, together for so long they didn’t need to converse in whole sentences.

‘Yes. Now what’s his name?’ mused Hilary.

Carrie waited, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to hide the fact she wanted to grab Hilary and give her a damn good shake.

Hilary scrunched up her face. ‘He was also in …’

Carrie bit her lip. God give her strength. ‘Do you mean Richard Maddox?’ she asked, sounding normal and sane and not wanting to rip the woman limb from limb.

‘That’s the one.’ Hilary’s friend hissed in a carrying whisper. ‘You clever girl. Ooh are you alright? You look rather pale.’

‘Have you seen him?’ Carrie stood on tiptoe but there was little going on. The two tramp look-a-likes had gone, leaving the girl with the clipboard moving from group to group, gesticulating madly.

‘Not now. He was here earlier. I bet he’s gone back to his Winnebago.’

‘Do you think you’d get a Winnebago up these streets, Kathleen? I’m not sure.’

‘Maybe he’s dropped off in his chauffeur-driven Bentley each morning.’

With nothing very much happening now, the crowd began to thin and Carrie had a much better view. A jolly market tradesman in an apron, who clearly wasn’t a trader, sipped coffee and chatted to a couple of other decidedly French- styled people with string baskets and shopping trolleys. Definitely extras, Carrie guessed. The crew worked around them with that busy precision of people who know exactly what they’re doing. Some peeled the gaffer tape securing the cables to the floor, others were dismantling the lights and others consulted schedules while packing things into large padded boxes.

To a man they ignored the crowd around them, they might as well have been behind a sheet of bullet-proof plate glass, a deliberate policy to discourage the general public from getting too close, as if they were an alien species apart from everyone else.

Carrie hesitated, imagining the crew might dismiss her as yet another fan or a lunatic stalker but she couldn’t let this chance slip by. For a minute, a smile played around her lips. What if she marched up and told them she was Mrs Maddox, Richard’s wife? It would be worth it to see their reaction, before she was carried off to the funny farm.

Thing was, she had once been in this world. Okay, she’d had a few walk-on parts in a couple of films, none of which had been spotted by a director and propelled her to instant stardom or even a bigger part, despite her vain hope that one of them would say who is the girl with the curly hair?

It had been such a long time ago; she’d virtually buried that part of her life. Being on set had been such a thrill, despite sometimes being tedious. There could be a lot of hanging around to get one small scene in the can but she’d loved being part of something, working alongside the whole crew all beavering away to achieve that goal. It had always been fascinating watching all the separate parts; the sound guys making sure they’d got what they needed, the camera men anxiously checking the light and conferring and most of all watching the director in action and comparing how she might approach a scene instead.

Added to all that, there was something quite indulgent about being on set, apart from the horrifically early hours. You didn’t have to do anything but focus on what you needed to do, your scene. Not like in her job now, when as a teacher you were pulled in a thousand different directions on a daily basis. On set you might spend hours between takes but you had nothing else to do apart from learn lines or rehearse and there was always someone to talk to, someone else having to hang around. No wonder food was always plentiful. The catering guys worked non-stop and there was always a never-ending supply of bacon butties. Did they have salami baguettes here instead?

With a mental rap of the knuckles, she told herself to stop stalling. Here was her best chance to track Richard down and she’d done nothing for the last five minutes but hop about from leg to the other like a demented stork. If she didn’t get a wiggle on, they’d have packed up and left.

She forced herself to wander over, picking the youngest- looking member of the crew, on the basis that she hadn’t been doing this long enough to be blasé about her job and therefore would respond to the friendly chat of a passer-by.

‘Hi, looks like you’ve been hard at it since the early hours.’

‘God, yes,’ the girl, in her early twenties, brushed her hair out of her face, straightening up from the coil of wires she’d recently gathered. ‘We started at five, but it’s a wrap now.’

‘Got much more to do today?’ Carrie summoned up a sympathetic tone.

‘A couple of takes with the extras to get some general shots. But most of the crew are going on to the next location to do a recce.’ Carrie bit back a smile, the girl didn’t look as if she’d had that much experience, but she was certainly up to date with the jargon.

‘The talent did it in a couple of takes. Which is always nice. They’re done for the day.’

Inwardly Carrie cursed Jade. If she’d left when she’d planned, she might have got here in time.

In time to do what, mocked a voice inside her head? March right up to Richard and then what?

‘Who is the talent?’ For her own peace of mind, she had to check. She didn’t quite trust Hilary and Kathleen. ‘Anyone I would have heard of?’

The girl laughed, producing a bag of cable ties from her back pocket. ‘You’re kidding. Unless you’ve been living in a cave for your whole life.’ She lowered her voice, ‘Richard Maddox and Savannah Murray.’

‘Wow. What is it? A big feature film?’ Carrie was starting to enjoy herself, getting into character of friendly star-struck person who happened to be walking by.

‘Turn on the Stars. It’s a romantic comedy. Great script. We were lucky to get them both on board, it’s taken a while for their schedules to coincide.’

‘Are you out here for long? You sound English? Where are you filming next?’

‘I’m from Essex. This unit is from England as most of the filming is here. I think there are a few scenes set in the States and they use a unit there. We’re here for the next six weeks.’ She grinned cheerfully. ‘Not a hardship. Summer back home looks crap.’

She stooped down and started disconnecting some of the cables from each other and tying them up with the plastic ties. ‘I’ve got no complaints and for the next week we’re down on the harbour at Port les Pins. Less busy than St Tropez, thank goodness. It’s a pig to park the vans down there and the traffic is horrendous this time of year. The local authorities are helpful, though, it’s good for tourism. The tourists love it when they see …’ The girl faltered.

Carrie laughed. ‘Yes we do. But many years ago I was an actress. I know the drill.’

‘Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to … you know.’

‘It’s fine. The film world looks glamorous to the outside world. They don’t see the long hours and the hard work the crew put in.’

‘God no, I mean I love it but its non-stop. We’re back on set again tomorrow morning at five. The early mornings are killers.’

‘I remember having to travel miles between sets, as well.’

‘This isn’t too bad, our base is in St Tropez.’

‘Nice,’ teased Carrie. ‘Posh hotel?’

‘Yeah, right! We’re in the Ibis. The director and the big names are staying in Le Chateau de la Messardière. Now that is posh.’

‘And of course, that’s where Richard Maddox and Savannah Murray are staying?’ Carrie twinkled, a sudden fizz of excitement at how easy this was turning out to be. Her first attempt and she’d discovered where Richard was staying. This Mata Hari lark was proving to be rather enjoyable.

‘Of course, not that I’ve been there.’

‘You done with these, Lorraine?’ A thick-set man with a sharp buzz cut came up, barely even glancing at Carrie.

‘Yup, they can go in the van.’

‘Can you go and give the sound guys a hand?’

‘Sure.’ She flashed Carrie a quick grin. ‘Gotta go, nice chatting with you. Might see you down at the harbour. We’re filming on one of the floating gin palaces down there. Be interesting getting the power generators on board.’

‘Lorraine,’ the man gave an impatient nod of his head.

‘Bye.’ She turned to her colleague and handed him one of the coils.

With a casual wave hiding her excitement, Carrie turned and walked away, trying not to skip. Result. She wouldn’t even have to see Richard, she could simply go to the hotel and leave him a letter there.

While she’d been talking her phone had buzzed several times. There were three impatient texts from Jade.

Where are you?

Have you got lost?’

Your coffee’s going cold.

Jade and Angela were sitting outside the café, Jade scrolling through her phone and Angela leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed, soaking up the sun.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Jade scowled up at her before looking back at her phone. ‘We’ve been here ages.’

Angela sprang to attention, her eyes asking a million questions as she mouthed, ‘Did you see him?’

With an imperceptible shake of her head, answered, grateful that Jade was more interested in her phone.

‘Sorry I got distracted by how amazing the market was. Even made me want to cook.’

Angela raised an eyebrow.

‘Almost,’ she ducked her head. ‘Okay, chop things up and have them with bread.’

‘I’m too lazy to move at the moment and we’ve got plenty of food in the fridge, I’d better not go and take a look. I know I’ll be tempted.’ Angela shunted her seat up, so that Carrie could squeeze in.

‘They have a market on Sunday as well. We can come back then. Urgh.’ The coffee was stone-cold.

‘I’m too hot,’ said Jade.

‘You do look very pink, did you put any sunscreen on?’ asked Angela.

‘No.’

‘And I didn’t bring any with me.’

They decided that as the temperature had hit the 90s already, they’d head back to the villa for a swim to cool off and then have lunch.

Halfway back to the car, as they emerged from the shady streets, Jade suddenly realised she’d left her brand-new sunglasses behind. Seeing that Angela was wilting in the heat, Carrie offered to go back and get them, giving the car keys to the others so that they could at least put the air conditioning on.

The sun was at its highest now and most people had sensibly stopped in some of the pavement cafés, leaving the streets mostly deserted.

She’d got used to having the street to herself when a man in dark sunglasses came abruptly around a corner and she almost cannoned into him. For a minute they did that very English side-stepping dance.

‘Sorry,’ said Carrie, lifting her sunglasses as she spoke, immediately realising she should have said ‘pardon’ and regretting taking them off as she squinted into the sun at him.

‘Carrie?’ He took off his sunglasses.

The butterflies were back with a vengeance, rising with a great fluttering kerfuffle and then en masse sank back with a great thunk. It was him.

She swallowed, completely struck dumb. It was as if her jaws had gone into spasm and absolutely refused to move.

‘Carrie? My God, it is you.’

She stared and stared and stared. The face, once as familiar as her own, looked exactly the same. Those so bright, they couldn’t be real, blue eyes, that she’d seen filled with first- thing sleepiness in them, alight with laughter at a stupid joke and sharp with thought at a serious question. Now they registered surprise. Her heart almost stopped as she drank in the sight of him. Still utterly gorgeous, with that perfectly chiselled jawline, which she used to tease he’d borrowed from Action Man.

The years vanished and, as if it were yesterday, she remembered walking hand in hand across Westminster Bridge in the dense drizzle of autumn. Yesterday, when they’d sat at the top of Primrose Hill, surrounded by the green shoots and early daffodils of Spring, unable to stop kissing each other. Yesterday, when he’d received the call. Yesterday, that painful stiff-upper-lip parting at Heathrow.

He stepped forward, reaching out a hand, as if to touch her, and then paused.

‘What … are you doing here?’ he asked, looking equally discomfited and confused.

‘I …’

‘You look … well.’ His mouth curved into the sudden easy grin she knew, his eyes dancing with mischief. ‘I like the dress.’ And then he frowned, the dark brows drawing together in a sudden slash, as if trying to work something out that wasn’t right. ‘But not the hair.’

With a sudden movement he pulled out the chopstick anchoring her hair. With the slight touch of his forearm against her face, her world turned upside down as her curls cascaded free, dropping down her back.

He stood there, holding the chopstick, looking like a young wizard who’d performed his first spell and now wasn’t sure what to do. Carrie let out a breathless, musical laugh. It was typical of Richard: act first, think later.

With a triumphant smile, he gave an approving nod, ‘That’s better. Much better. Now you look like you.’

Carrie wanted to come back with something witty and snappy, half of her desperate to put him in his place for his sheer cheek and the other half wanting to impress him with her sang froid. Instead she smiled stupidly back at him, her heartbeat bursting into breakneck speed and a flush racing through her.

‘How are you? You look well.’

‘You said that already.’

‘I did, didn’t I? It’s amazing to see you. You look …’

‘You said that already.’

‘It’s not every day you run into y …’ Panic flashed in his eyes as if he realised he was about to step into dangerous territory. The W word would make it personal.

‘Your wife,’ said Carrie tartly, a punch of pain ricocheting around her chest. A wife he’d conveniently forgotten all too quickly once he’d got to Hollywood. By his second feature film, the phone calls and texts started to dry up, the conversations became more stilted and the pictures of him and his leading lady started to get regular billing in the gossip columns. As far as she was concerned, it had been a case of out of sight and very much out of mind.

His face crumpled with something that might have been regret or at least she liked to think so. How the hell did she know? she hadn’t seen him for eight years. Now she studied him more closely, she saw the signs of self-possession. The clothes sharper and more chic, the blue of his shirt no doubt picked out specially to enhance his eyes and the trousers, linen and tailored, fitting him like a glove. Despite his urbane elegance, she couldn’t help remembering a time when he’d lived in baggy jeans and laughed at men who used personal-grooming products. The man in front of her looked as if he used them by the articulated lorry-load.

He wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with, the same as she wasn’t the person he’d fallen in love with.

She glared hard, to make him back off, and snatched the chopstick back, bundling her hair up and spiking it through viciously.

‘I didn’t mean …’ He took a step towards her.

‘Look, it’s him. I told you I’d seen him.’ From around the corner a coachload of young teenagers came and like locusts descended on them, homing in on Richard, their number forming around him, pushing her away until she was the outsider looking in, which was exactly as it should be.

Over the tops of their heads he caught her eye, as she began to back away.

‘Wait Carrie. W …’ his voice was swallowed up by the excited chatter of the girls waving bits of paper and trying to take selfies with him.

The sudden physical barrier was a welcome reminder of the divide between them. They were different people. That was a lifetime ago. There was absolutely no need to speak to him or have any contact with him. Thanks to the friendly film-crew girl, she didn’t need to. She knew where to find him.

‘Auntie Carrie. Auntie Carrie!’

As she turned she saw Jade half-running and half-walking up the hill towards her. With a fleeting backward glance at Richard, who was still watching her, she strode forwards to meet her niece.

‘I found them,’ crowed Jade. ‘My sunglasses. They were in my bag all the time.’

Desperate to get away and praying that Jade hadn’t caught sight of the commotion behind her, Carrie began to hurry towards her.

‘OMG. Carrie. Look, it’s someone famous,’ Jade stepped around her to look up the hill at where the girls were surrounding Richard, who had been spun round with his back to them. ‘I’ve got to get a selfie.’

‘Jade, no.’ She tried to grab her niece. ‘Leave the poor man alone, he’s already besieged.’

‘Do you know who it is?’

‘No idea,’ Carrie snapped.

‘I’m going to find out,’ Jade grinned with youthful determination. ‘One more selfie won’t hurt him, whoever he is.’

‘Jade!’

‘What?’

‘I’m leaving right now.’

‘Don’t be boring. I’ll never, ever get the chance to see a sleb this close again. Come on, you can get a picture too. Your students will be dead impressed.’

‘I’ll go without you.’ She tried to put a hand on Jade’s, but she was off like a greased whippet, phone out.

‘Jade!

‘I’ll catch you up.’

Carrie decided this was a lost battle and it would be better if she left – and quickly, before Richard turned around and linked the two of them together. Would he remember Jade from all those years ago?

She hurried down the street, fighting the temptation to take one last look back. A few streets later, a piercing stitch stabbing into her side forced her to stop. Her whole body hurt but it had nothing to do with the stitch. Her face crumpled and she bent double trying to ease the pain.

‘I say, are you alright?’

Jade loomed over her. ‘You look terrible.’

For Jade to notice, she must have looked horrendous.

Now that she stopped, dizziness overcame her and she swayed on the spot, praying that the light-headed sensation would recede. With her knees trembling and nausea dancing in the pit of her belly, she wondered if she might pass out. It had to be shock. Her body reacting after the see-sawing of emotions she’d put it through this morning. The up of fearful anticipation and down of abject relief.

‘Auntie Carrie,’ Jade’s voice held a note of panic. ‘Are you okay? Can I … Shall I …’

Uncertainty flashed in her expression.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit faint. Probably too much heat.’ She wasn’t going to confess to Jade, it was more likely a post-shock, adrenaline hangover. The aggressive punch of chemicals which had rolled through her system, setting all her senses on alert, had now evaporated like a magic genie rescinding its powers, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of being unutterably tired. She clung to a nearby wrought-iron hand rail.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Jade doubtfully.

‘Let me catch my breath a minute. I’ve overdone it, that’s all. Too much sun. Not enough fluids.’ Carrie sounded like an aged great aunt well into her dotage rather than an auntie scant years older than her niece. There were plenty of occasions when Carrie had been taken for Jade’s older sister. As for fluids, she could do with a shot of something to put some fire back.

‘Do you want me to get Mum?’

‘No, I’m fine, honestly. I … let’s get back to the car.’ The sooner they got away the better.

‘If you’re sure.’ Doubt filled Jade’s face.

Despite the sick sensation churning around her stomach, which was stupid, it wasn’t as if she’d got up close and personal to real danger, she picked up her pace and almost marched down the hill back to the car park. Every now and then she threw anxious looks back over her shoulder.

Jade threw open the back passenger door and hurled herself in, pushing her phone out to her mother. ‘Guess who we saw? Look I got a selfie with him. Richard Maddox. Isn’t he gorgeous? He’s even more gorgeous in the flesh, isn’t he, Caz?’

‘You saw Richard?’ Angela’s eyes went wide, studying Carrie with concern.

‘Oh God, yes,’ said Carrie, limp in her seat, now that she’d reached the air-conditioned haven of the car. She put her head in her hands and leaned over her knees. ‘I walked right into him.’ Reliving the moment as she told her sister was every bit as bad as the moment it happened.

She straightened up and took a peek at herself in the mirror before turning to Angela. ‘What a nightmare.’

Jade leaned through the gap between the passenger and driver seats, like a fox scenting a chicken, her nose almost quivering.

‘I don’t believe it.’ Carrie rubbed at her forehead as if that might dissipate the band of tension which had tightened around her forehead. ‘Blood, bloody, bad luck.’

‘Why? I don’t understand.’ Jade flicked through her screen. ‘I got two pictures with him and they’re both great. I’m going to WhatsApp them now to Becky, Charlotte and Eliza.

Carrie groaned, still unable to believe what had happened.

Jade caught her eye in the mirror. ‘Hang on.’ Her eyes narrowed and she examined Carrie. ‘Have I missed something?’

Angela looked from Carrie to Jade and back again.

‘Mum? What’s going on?’

With a sigh, Carrie said, ‘Let’s wait until we get home.’ She gripped the steering wheel with purpose. ‘I need to concentrate on driving and finding our way back.’

‘Why can’t you tell me now?’ whined Jade.

‘Because,’ snapped Carrie.