by Karen Aldous
‘Mummy, cackers.’
Lifting Charlotte to her lap, she snuggled her close and kissed her cheek. ‘Yes, c-r-ackers and cheese and tom-a-toes. Can you say tom-a-toes?’
‘Ma-toes.’
‘Ok, close. Let’s put some nursery rhymes on while we’re making lunch, shall we?’ Evie set her daughter back on her feet and jumped up to her CD player. As ‘Humpty Dumpty’ played its introduction, the bell rang from the gate.
‘Stay there and dance to “‘Humpty” poppet,’ she said, dancing to the hall and out the front door. A large van was parked on the track outside and she skipped over to the gate where she peeked out to the side. A delivery man stood with what looked like a wrapped shoebox in his hand. It was too big to pass through any of the exposed metal bars.
‘Oh, looks interesting,’ she said, unlocking and opening the main gate and grasping it from his hands. She glimpsed up at the balding man and gave a smile but the smile soon dropped as her attention diverted. She caught sight of a figure walking away, head down, along the edge of the track, as if trying to get out of view. ‘Was he with you?’ she asked, signalling with her head and glaring at the figure.
The delivery man followed her gaze. ‘No, he was at your gate.’
She squinted, noting the frame of the stranger, quite short, even at a distance, dark hair, jeans and a purple t-shirt. It had to be the same guy Cally saw. A chill rushed down her spine.
‘Hmm, sorry, where do I sign?’ Cradling the box, she pushed the gate shut. She had to be more careful running out without checking. She didn’t know who this delivery man was.
Ensuring the gate was locked she strode into the shrubs and peeked through a gap as the van pulled away. The guy was still walking and had almost reached the road. He hadn’t looked back once. The van pulled out of the track and that’s when the stranger turned. Evie gasped, jumping back, but unless he could detect a shadow behind the screen or her feet underneath the ironwork, she couldn’t be seen. Now would he turn back?
Glued to the spot, Evie kept watch, her mouth dry, eager to know if he would return. Now she was alone, the threat was deeply palpable. She and Charlotte could be in serious danger. Why was he here? Was he hoping to see Seb, or all of them, together, to get pictures. Or what? No evidence of a camera. Evie grabbed her hair, eyes darting and biting her lip.
She peered back at her front door. She’d already left Charlotte too long. She dashed back to the house. Charlotte was pushing her dolly’s pushchair in the hall. There was no question of their vulnerability. Who could they fight off? Looking down at her body, she acquired a helplessness she had never experienced. She dropped the box and raced back to the entrance. Still no sign of the stranger, but she took position again, shielded by the gate. After several minutes, and no sign of him walking back, she returned to the house.
‘Cackers, Mummy, an ma-toes?’
‘Sorry sweetie, yes Mummy will get your lunch now,’ Evie said heading for the fridge. ‘Ah, CCTV. That should be running. Oh, I’ll look later.’
Charlotte was now behind her. ‘Come here poppet, you can sit in the highchair. I think your granny has sent you a present but we won’t open that until we get back from the library.’
Evie put crackers on the table and began chopping chunks of cheese for Charlotte. With trembling hands, several times she almost chopped the top of her fingers. She needed to get out. Being isolated and imagining an unwelcome visitor was screwing with her mind.
‘Baa baa backshp,’ her daughter sang along to the music.
‘Lovely, keep going, have you any wool?’
‘Any wool.’
‘That’s lovely, Charlotte. Ah, I think I’ve just remembered the book I’ read about the women on the canal. Huh, but it was in the museum and expensive. But, brilliant, I should recognise it if it’s in the library.’
‘Libry’
‘Haha, you’re such a sponge. Clever girl. Yes, we’ll go after lunch.’ Evie kissed Charlotte’s forehead, feeling so blessed her daughter was so smart. ‘Oh, God,’ she squealed while her stomach somersaulted. What if this guy was trying to kidnap Charlotte and hold her to ransom?
Her stomach seemed to be pushing its contents towards her throat. Suddenly desperate to get out, she coaxed Charlotte away from the music and into her highchair for lunch. Before setting off, she ensured the alarm and cameras were set, what she could make of it anyway. With helmets on and a rucksack on her back, Evie, still trembling, scanned around her before heading off. Once across the canal she turned towards Beziers. She had only cycled about half a mile when she spotted Ben’s crew working in a clearing on the other side of the canal. There appeared to be a team of diggers and landscapers. She couldn’t see Ben. Seeing a welcoming face would be just the tonic. It was at the bottom of the Fonserannes Lock she saw another team, on the old lock, by the bend towards Beziers where the canal now diverted to the river Orb. Again, no sign of Ben. She continued to the city, across the Orb viaduct, up the steep climb to the centre to Allees Paul-Riquet and, cutting through the busy roads, to Avenue Jean Moulin and the library, where she parked her bicycle.
Once in the library, Charlotte selected several colourful children’s books before they clambered to the first floor for Evie to make her selection. Once she’d settled Charlotte on the floor with her books, Evie set about her mission – browsing through the shelves for possibilities, and one in particular. She was sure she would recognise it now. Unable to find it, she pulled out a selection and sat down beside her daughter, browsing the contents and snippets which could be useful. Mmm, nothing particularly new. She browsed the shelves again.
‘It’s like they never existed. Where is that book? So annoying,’ she mumbled as she crouched down again. One by one, she filed through them. Then, as if waving at her from the bottom shelf… ‘Hah!’ She levered the book from the top of the spine. ‘There you are. I knew you would be here somewhere. God knows why you’re down there.’ She flicked to the contents page. ‘Yes,’ she squealed, louder than she’d intended. She scanned through some of the pages. ‘Cool.’ Turning to some notes and acknowledgements, she found some useful references. Maybe these could lead her to some letters. She yearned for some personal accounts but, of course, it was so long ago and unlikely any peasant women would be able to write, or the men come to that. At least what she had was a recent academic work with all the essential referencing. She made one final search across the row of books, selecting one more at random and, turning to Charlotte, she froze. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen a figure shoot back behind the tall shelving at the end of the aisle. ‘What the…’ Her chest thumped, thrashing against her ribs.
‘Charlotte,’ she whispered, gripping the child’s arm and pulling her close. Swiftly, she gathered the books, piling them absentmindedly as her eyes remained alert. Securing them under her chin, whilst clutching the tiny hand, she shuffled stealthily to the main aisle, her body tense. Nimbly, she scrutinised the area for the figure as she skulked to the desk. He had vanished, like some phantom ghost. After swiping her books, she rammed them into the rucksack and fled to the door, her eyes darting around the forecourt as sharp as a meerkat. Again, he was nowhere to be seen. Damn you. She felt her skin crawl and swallowed down the fear. Where was he? Her arms shaking, she dropped the rucksack to the ground and sat Charlotte in the chair, her fingers fumbling with the clasp. Finally, collecting the bag and threading her arms through the straps, she mounted the bike and sped off through the city, back to the canal. There was no doubt now he was stalking her, and not, as she’d presumed, casing just her home. This meant he could only be after Charlotte. She kept a vigil around her as she cycled back, grateful he wasn’t following.
She crossed the Colombiers bridge, and pedalled towards the harbour, heading for the supermarket across the square. Reaching the harbour, she glanced over to the opposite bank. Shit! she gulped, almost losing balance. There he was, staring back. He’d been following her. But she’d checked. With people sitting at the c
afé now close, she slowed, hoping he would follow. She could challenge him in public. As she watched, he rode onto the bridge and vanished behind a building. Evie stopped and climbed off the bike, positioning it to maintain surveillance. Whilst releasing Charlotte, she fastened her eyes in his direction, aware he could arrive by the road to the left or across the square. With her daughter now in her arms and the frame of the bike resting on her hip, she willed him to come. She took a deep breath.
‘Oh, he’s not going to show, silly Mummy, of course he’s hiding.’ Afraid to move and miss him, she stayed fixed to the ground for several minutes longer.
‘Evie.’
She jumped, turning her head towards the voice. At least it was familiar. Ben was waving from a cruiser in the harbour. He was with the crew, including Samantha. Waving back, she grabbed her handlebars and steered the bike to a wall close to the mini-market and stood stock still. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ben leap from the cruiser onto the pontoon. He skipped towards her.
‘Want to join us? We’re just stopping for a drink.’
Evie’s heart hammered, willing her limbs not to run into the safety of his arms. She glanced at the crew assembling on the nearby decking and pulling tables together.
‘Well?’ he continued as he neared her.
‘Hi’ Evie said, exhaling relief and peering at the group then back towards the road and the square.
‘I’m glad I’ve caught you actually, I managed to print you off a script which you might like to read. It’s on the boat so I’ll fetch it in a bit.’
Evie raised her eyebrows and glared at him blankly.
He caught her elbow. ‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve just eaten a squirrel, whole.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘I’m fine,’ she mouthed distractedly and followed him to join the crew. Of course she wasn’t. How could she be, not knowing that man’s motives? Instinctively she wanted to tell Ben about the man following her. At least raise the alarm. This was becoming scary, intrusive. But, should she create panic and risk them all asking questions? Inevitably, she would end up involving Seb and the police and all sorts of nightmares.
Holding out a friendly arm as they stepped down the stairs Ben keenly introduced her to the crew. She knelt down, releasing Charlotte onto the terrace, and took off her rucksack. Ravi, his first assistant, sat the other side of her and immediately started chatting with Charlotte, trying to make her feel welcome as she clung to her mother’s leg with a scowling expression. Evie took out Charlotte’s beaker from her bag, followed by a book. Charlotte’s eyes lit up and Ravi asked her to show him. Evie nodded her approval as her daughter looked up to her.
She’d lost sight of the follower but was still curious as to why he would be watching her in the library. Was he hoping to snatch a child in there or did he think she had a precious document she was stashing away between the books? What did he want? Had he seen Seb at home last week, was he planning a ransom?
‘Rosé wine for you, mademoiselle,’ Ben said breaking her trance. The waitress placed a very large glass of invitingly chilled pink liquid in front of her eyes. She didn’t like drinking whilst cycling with Charlotte but felt more in need of it now than she did after the accident.
She blinked. ‘Ooh, wow, that’s big. Thank you.’
‘They all say that, don’t they Ben?’ one of the guys mocked. Evie feigned a snigger behind her glass. Peering around the crowd, she made eye contact with an indignant-looking Samantha, Ben’s second assistant. Her expression transformed to a smile. Evie was sure there was something going on between her and Ben.
‘How is your leg now?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ One the crew also leant forward. Evie recalled, he was Gaz, the producer.
Rubbing it gently, she said. ‘It’s fine, thank you. Still a bit sore, but healing well.’
She turned as Ben pulled his chair closer beside her, beaming a seductive white smile which, on his handsome face, turned her bones to putty.
‘Good to hear. I’ve been a bit worried if I’m honest,’ he said.
‘Really, I’ve made a brilliant recovery. I continued with the ice-pack and it helped take down the bruising quicker.’
His hand slid on top of hers. She shivered at his touch. ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me.’
Evie brushed her collar with her hand, feeling flushed. His presence was electric. As the team’s chatter turned to the day’s filming, Evie’s eyes constantly scanned behind them. He was out there somewhere, watching. Her hands fiddled as she battled to console herself – she was safe. She steered her eyes back to the group. She listened, eager to hear and learn all she could about the filming process, trying to make sense of the terminology they batted about. What she didn’t understand she questioned, meanwhile sipping on the crisp sweet wine. As they chatted about the morning’s shoot, Ben smiled at her and she caught that reassuring smile and sank deeper into her chair, as much a part of the group as he was. Individual re-tellings of events unfolded. Each team member was blazing about this epic production, something they could all be proud to have been a part of. When personal politics began to enter the conversation, Ben waved his hand and slapped it playfully on the arm of his chair, making Evie warm and bubbly inside.
‘Ok, I’m staying out of this. Evie, tell me about your day?’
Chapter 11
After a nervous sneer, Evie sniggered. ‘Probably wise. I’ve just been sourcing some books today – I’m hoping I’ve found one good one at least. Tell me what inspired you for this project? Riquet’s story?’
‘Now that sounds like a journalist if ever I heard one.’ Ben winked, rubbing his knuckle under his chin. His lips twisted then widened as his eyes lowered to hers. ‘I mean that in a nice way, by the way but, yeah, I remember being fascinated by it as a child when we visited the Fonserannes Locks and Riquet’s statue in Beziers. My dad explained how this one visionary was responsible for this amazingly huge feat and how much the building of this canal influenced the rest of Europe, including British canals. The word, visionary, also stayed fixed in my mind.’
‘Yes it was pretty brave and ambitious.’
‘Exactly. And, my parents were very good encouraging us to explore and enquire.’
Evie glanced fleetingly at the harbour, watching as a boat reversed into a mooring, but was also considering her own upbringing. Her parents had been very similar in that sense, engaging her and Cally in new surroundings; they loved to impart their knowledge, often scouring local tourist’ offices for more information and local museums.
‘So quite a lifelong passion. Your parents sound fun. Mine used to be, too.’ Evie’s head dropped, ‘Such a shame I messed up.’ The words slipped out.
‘You don’t get on now?’
Scratching her forehead, she now had to qualify her statement. ‘Not really. I let them down and ruined a very good relationship when I came to France. They don’t get on well with my partner.’ She squirmed, feeling like she was fishing for sympathy, but in truth Ben had been so honest about himself that it felt natural to treat him with the same respect.
‘Ooh ouch, that’s pretty sad.’
‘It was, I agree. But I’ve recently made my mind up that I’m going to do something about it. I know it will be expensive but I’m going to call them in America. I like to think I’ve grown up a little.’
‘Good on you. But that must have been difficult, with a child, I mean. Were they there to help when Charlotte was a baby?’
Evie glimpsed at her child. ‘No, S… my partner and I have only seen them once. Anyway,’ she said, deciding they were veering off the Riquet story, ‘how do you go about funding a production like this? There’s so many people and equipment involved.’
Ben explained his production and directing process. He spoke with such vivid detail and with ease, showing he was not only passionate about his job but also that, despite its demands, he had time to share and involve her. So different to Seb.
‘So,’ he swall
owed the last of his beer,’ ‘one page of movie script equates to approximately one minute of screen time.’ He picked up her empty glass. ‘Will you have the same again?’ he asked and peered around at the crew.
‘No, I must get back. I need to change Charlotte’s nappy. We’ve been at the library for the last two hours, probably more.’
‘Nappies are much better than they used to be, she’ll be fine,’ Ravi said knowledgeably. ‘I have a three-year-old. A boy. Unless there’s a really offensive smell, those things last hours. They wear them all night, remember.’
Evie, already feeling lightheaded, shook her head. ‘That’s true. But that was a large glass of wine and to be honest, I don’t think I can ride now.’
‘Have a small one then. I’ll walk back with you and carry Charlotte,’ Ben suggested.
Evie was about to insist she go, but the thought of having some security with her as she arrived home was suddenly appealing.
‘A small one then.’
One of the guys shook his head at Ben. ‘I don’t know how you do it. One word and they’re putty in his hands.’
Tossing a scowl at his colleague, Ben beckoned the waitress who immediately strolled across to their table. As he ordered, Evie glanced at Samantha whose eyes were on her. She watched as she licked her lips and lowered her head. Grabbing a braid of hair, Evie twisted it around her fingers. Doubt was creeping in. Had she made the right decision, letting Ben walk her back? Was Samantha upset, or just familiar with Ben’s conquests? The rest of the crew seemed to be. She peered back at Ben, who was explaining to one of the crew where he’d placed the newly printed script. The guy then bounced down to the pontoon and onto their canal cruiser. As Ben slid back in his chair, his eyes smiled.
‘You ok?’ he asked, tilting his head.