A Web of Lives

by David Medlycott

It was light, Tobin opened his eyes and could see nothing outside the car; condensation was running down the inside of the windows. His head had fallen to one side on the headrest and was now at a painful angle on his right shoulder. His mouth was dry as if he had been snoring. Whatever he had been doing it hadn’t disturbed Teri who still lay wrapped up on the back seat sound asleep. He wound down the window to let in some fresh air. It was just as grey outside, a thick blanket of fog lay over the town and the cold damp fingers reached into the car causing him to shiver.

  He quietly opened the door, his legs needed help to swing out of the cramped confines of the front seat and he had to lift them out one at a time. The long tense hours of driving the day before and the cold night curled up in the car had turned them to rubber, and his back was set in concrete. He stood up unsteadily, resting heavily on the open door, stretched painfully and looked around him. He could see for the width of two cars in each direction before the fog closed in. He tottered round to the boot, quietly opened it and found his bag. He pulled on some extra clothes and stretched again.

  His watch showed him that it was five forty five. He tried a couple of steps with painful pins and needles in his feet and lower legs. From the front of the car he remembered that they had parked five bays in from the road, he turned and shuffled in that direction.

  There was not a sound to be heard as he reached the road and turned left up a slight gradient. His legs were stiff but coming to life as he walked toward the town centre. After fifteen minutes walking, feeling better with every step, he came to where they had parked the car the previous night and paused to look around. He was in front of a sports shop, beside him was a rail protecting the foot of a flight of steps up to a hotel. There was still no sign of life, the fog in amongst the buildings was thinner and as he looked up he could see traces of blue sky directly overhead and felt a slight breeze brush down the street. A cat appeared on a balcony across the road. It strolled arrogantly along the handrail one white paw delicately placed in front of the other, its tail held erect like a crook. It crouched at the corner of the rail and stared down at him. Tobin stared back.

  He hunched deeper into his jacket, pushed his hands deeper into the pockets and continued up the street. It was a bigger town than he had expected. He walked past the street they had taken the night before and followed the curve of the road as it wound round to the left and then the right. The area became less commercial and more residential as he came to a fork in the road. He picked the left turn, feeling the breeze become stronger, walked past a school and came to a cable car station. It was closed, unsurprisingly, and he walked past one side and headed for the edge of the cliff, he could see the cables descending ahead. The breeze changed direction and was flowing over the edge taking thick blankets of fog with it. He could now look out over the thick white cloud and see the mountains beyond to the south of the valley. Tobin stood and drank in the sight until the temperature prompted him to move again.

  He turned, sad to leave the sight and silence, and returned the way he had come. Over the town to his right, as the fog began to disperse with the morning breeze, he could see the shoulder of the mountain with the pylons of the lift system sticking out of it like matchsticks. His walk back was much more brisk. The cat was gone and he saw a human and heard his first sound, a grunted ‘Bonjour’ from a passer-by.

  Teri was still fast asleep when he returned, but stirred when he opened the door to retrieve a bag of peppermints from the dashboard. Cars were moving on the road now and the fog had sunk further down the valley revealing the surrounding mountains and leaving the town veiled in only a thin mist. Sunlight was visible behind the mountain range to the east, on his left as he looked toward the town, but the sun still had a long way to climb before it showed itself directly in the town. He was very hungry, the smell of baking bread as he walked back had been wonderful and now his stomach was churning and making sounds in the stillness of the carpark.

  He chewed on some mints to freshen his mouth and studied the road atlas, reliving the previous day’s journey. After a further half-hour of aimless wandering to kill time he purposefully disturbed Teri.

  She woke bright and cheerful. ‘You look dreadful!’ were her first words.

  They set off in search of the bakery. ‘Boulangerie’, she corrected him. ‘Isn’t this fabulous? It’s always so bright and clear!’

  ‘It wasn’t an hour ago.’ He grumbled. ‘I’ve been stumbling around for an hour and a half while you snoozed.’

  ‘Aah.’ She patted him playfully on the cheek. ‘Ooh! You need a shave.’

  ‘We,’ he said, pointedly, ‘need a bath and change of clothes as well as my shave.’ He pointed to his rumpled trousers and the shirt collar poking out from above the two jumpers he was wearing.

  She nodded, ‘but first, food.’

  He had to agree.

  They made a detour past the bar, they were not surprised to find it shut, and had a look around in the daylight. The door from the street led past the kitchens and into the café area, which they could see quite clearly through the large windows on three of the walls. Two large sets of glass doors led from the café onto a large sundeck at the back with tables and chairs laid out under furled umbrellas. From the deck a broad set of wooden steps led down to a rear street about six feet below. Teri led the way down the side street to the rear of the deck and they climbed the steps.

  ‘If you sit there,’ she pointed to her right as she mounted the top step, ‘you get the sun all day long. A great sun tan spot.’ Tobin looked to where she was pointing to the corner of the deck, in the angle of the high handrail. It was the north-east corner, facing south-west, and they were far enough away from the building for the sun’s only obstruction to be the mountaintops around the town.

  When they returned to the road Tobin could see that they were not alone in their quest for bread. Several children passed by clutching armfuls of long French loaves. They joined the shop queue.

  With their own arms full of warm bread and pastries they walked along the bottom of the slopes and sat by the swimming pools and ice rink.

  ‘Those are the cable cars you saw in the photos,’ said Teri, between mouthfuls of crusty bread, ‘that has the name of the resort all over it.’ She pointed across to her right as they looked up the mountain. ‘It’s called the Jandri and zooms you up the mountain. This is the bottom of a floodlit piste where you can ski in the evening. Look at the state of you!’ She laughed, as Tobin brushed off a shower of breadcrumbs. They moved on again, passed a nursery and regained the road as they finished off the croissants and pain-au-chocolat that Teri had insisted on buying. Tobin still said nothing as he devoured the food. He couldn’t remember feeling so hungry as he had when waiting in the baker’s shop.

  ‘I’ve an idea.’ Teri suddenly announced. ‘I’ve stayed in that hotel we parked by last night, let’s go and see if there’s anyone I know.’

  ‘I thought you already tried?’

  ‘That was last night.’

  Tobin stood and inspected the sports shop window again and waited while Teri ran up the steps to the hotel above. The cat reappeared across the road and haughtily made its way back home along the handrail, tail still held high. He watched the traffic passing as the town became busier. Tobin had almost forgotten why they were there when a shock of white hair went past in a car and pulled up further down the street. Tobin ducked under the handrail beside him and climbed the steps for a better view of the car. The far door opened and a tall, thin, tanned man emerged. He should have realised that the car was French and kicked himself for being so jumpy.

  He was aware now of his heartrate and sudden shortness of breath. He needed a drink after all that bread; his mouth was quite dry. The white hair moved off down the street out of sight. Tobin had suddenly been brought back down to earth, with a considerable bump and he leant on the rail contemplating the day ahead. He was totally unprepared
, he knew. He was a stranger in a strange land, quite lost without the aid of Teri, and embarking on an unknown task that involved people who were perfectly willing to kill. He felt worse now than when he had made the discovery of Alan’s real identity. The chase to get here had been fun, to a certain extent; being here had been interesting, to a point; but, going on any further was a different prospect. He could get killed, he hadn’t thought of that before. He had persuaded himself that all that was needed was to tell Alan to be careful and then depart; whereas, in reality, they were one of three parties after the same man, but all for different reasons. The other two were probably already here and they had something far worse in mind and, if they found him in the way, Tobin knew that he was only a minor obstacle, easily overcome.

  ‘Right!’

  ‘OH!’

  ‘Jumpy! We can get changed here if we’re discreet about it. OK?’

  ‘Yes.’ He took a deep breath and relaxed back against the rail from which he had jumped so quickly.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes. I was miles away.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice enough here, isn’t it? You get the bags, I’ll meet you back here.’ She turned and ran back into the hotel.

  ‘Where have you been? It’s taken you ages.’

  ‘I had to drive twice round the block before I could find a space.’ Not to mention trying to check out several English registered cars he had seen on the way. Teri was talking to a tall, slight, very pretty blonde girl when Tobin entered the hotel lobby lugging Teri’s heavy bag. He had sorted his own bits and pieces into a carrier bag.

  ‘We’ve got forty five minutes before the owner returns. This is Sara, by the way.’ She pointed to him, ‘John.’

  Sara nodded, ‘Bonjour, Monsieur.’

  ‘Bonjour, Sara.’ It was like a language lesson. He headed for the stairs leaving the girls to have a giggle over something; he didn’t want to enquire what. Teri followed to the first floor, led the way down the corridor to a back room and opened the door.

  To Teri’s amusement Tobin had been a gentleman and let her use the shower first while he stretched out on the bed. When he caught up with her downstairs, feeling clean and fresh at last, the two girls were giggling again. They fell silent when he approached, still lugging Teri’s heavy bag.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.’ He said, trying not to sound huffy. ‘I’ll put these in the car.’ He stomped on through and down the steps. Teri didn’t follow and he returned to find them drinking coffee. ‘We are supposed to be in a hurry.’ He reminded her.

  ‘Sara says that Mick’s doesn’t open yet.’ There was more chatter and tapping of watches. ‘But, Arnaud will be there preparing to open.’ She repeated. ‘We’ll get breakfast there, too.’ Her face brightened. ‘Petit dejeuner!’ She instructed him. ‘Breakfast.’

  Tobin nodded tolerantly. Sara gazed at him with large blue eyes, which he found disturbing. He nodded toward the door and turned to leave.

  ‘Au revoir, monsieur.’ Said a sad voice behind him.

  ‘Good bye.’

  Teri caught him up on the steps. ‘Slow up. You made a hit there, you know?’

  ‘Mmm?’ That was the last thing he wanted right now.

  He strode to the café with Teri in tow. She banged on the door attracting Arnaud, who, even Tobin could tell, was quite alarmed to see her. There was an animated discussion during which they both mentioned ‘Papa’ and consulted watches. She took Tobin by the arm and dragged him in.

  ‘Alan’s not here yet. He’s been away on ‘business’ for the last few days and is expected back this morning.’

  ‘Where’s he been?’

  ‘Arnaud says he doesn’t know. You open that door and I’ll do this one and Arnaud’s making us some breakfast.’ He did as instructed, unbolting and swinging back the large glass doors onto the deck. But, they decided to sit inside in the corner diagonally opposite the front door. ‘It’s too cold still to sit out there till the sun gets up, then it’s too hot!’ She said squeezing round the table to get right into the corner. Tobin sat on her right with the window and doors to the deck on his right. Coffee appeared almost immediately. They sat and drank in silence till Teri said, ‘Arnaud is a French name, but he isn’t French. He speaks it fluently, better than me, but I can tell he isn’t French.’

  Now that she mentioned it, he didn’t look French either. Well-tanned, fair skin covered slightly gaunt features below straight, light brown hair. He was quite tall and slim; his loose clothes hung on him; his off-white T-shirt flapping over the spare frame and slim hips. He wore cut-off jeans and sandals, displaying well-tanned legs. Dark eyes watched everything; Tobin was aware that Arnaud was constantly on the alert.

  Trays of breakfast appeared. He was not sparing the food for Teri that was certain. Plates of ham and cheese, eggs, bread and a kind of sponge cake arrived on one, while cereals, yoghurt, fruit and fruit juice and preserves came on the second. Tobin offered to pay.

  ‘Non! Non. Non.’ Arnaud turned his back and returned to the counter. He was back in a moment bearing some English newspapers dated the previous Saturday.

  ‘Ah. Merci, Arnaud,’ said Tobin, cockily.

  ‘M’sieur.’

  They settled down to their food and reading the papers. It was all so civilised and a million miles from Tobin’s fears of an hour earlier. The sun appeared and began to warm the room; Teri opened the window beside her that looked down onto the side street. More customers arrived and Arnaud, who worked alone, steadily pattered in and out as most of the visitors now chose to sit outside. Tobin yawned and straightened himself in the chair; he was feeling sleepy again. Teri couldn’t concentrate on the papers and threw them onto an empty chair.

  ‘You’ve never talked about your father, real father,’ ventured Tobin.

  ‘Not a lot to mention, really. I don’t know if I would know him if I met him, now.’ She said quite calmly. ‘I have thought about him a bit more, recently. He left when I was quite young and mother kept no mementoes; just his money. I don’t know what visiting rights he was supposed to have but I never saw him after the first few months. He kept paying for me, though, that’s why I’m still called Shaw. He’s called Roland Terence Shaw, same initials, see? Mother hated him, never wanted to hear his name or any reference to him. So, he was soon forgotten. It’s all beginning to sound a bit too familiar, isn’t it?’ She looked at him with a wry smile. ‘She took him for every penny she could get and bragged about it, to me. He’s quite a wealthy man, I believe. I know Alan met him a couple of times, just by accident, I think it was. They could probably compare notes, although it was some years ago now; things weren’t quite as bad as they became. She was about to do the same to Alan, you know, but thinking about it now, I wonder if he saw it coming. If he was sort of warned by my father. That would possibly explain her extreme bitterness, if he had thwarted her efforts.’ She said, dramatically. ‘Recently, she did get very strange. Quite obsessive, really. Then about a month ago she went very quiet. Actually, almost smug.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘That’s about the time she contacted the Norrises in Nottingham.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’ Teri agreed. She drifted off on another memory. Tobin waited patiently. ‘You know she actually tried to blame Alan for the drinking. Probably because she couldn’t find some other way of getting at him. I think the way she would have liked most to get at him would have been to get another man.’

  ‘I thought she didn’t like men.’

  ‘She didn’t, according to her. But, there have been too many around in the past for me to believe that. When I was little, after my father left, there was a string of men. It didn’t mean anything to me then, I was only six or seven years old. They were all different, as I remember. Some I met and some I didn’t. Some I liked and some I didn’t. Some
I can remember, but most I don’t, you know, visually. I still see some around town. They’re married, now, and a couple I’m sure were married then. But, at the time they were all ‘Bastards’ or worse, my mother made a point of destroying every one of them to me. The ones I can remember were the ones who tried to get to know me, usually by bringing presents or giving me money or something, like taking me on trips at the weekend. My mother hated that, really resented me being there. I used to look at these men and wonder ‘are you going to be my new daddy?’ Or more often I would pray that it wasn’t going to be this one or that one after my mother had had a go about him behind his back.

  ‘Then, along came Alan. Even to a nine year old he was attractive. He made no concessions; he was the first person to ever treat me as an adult. Sounds funny, doesn’t it? But, I mean he treated me like an equal, it was very strange. He would ask me what I wanted to do, and what I thought of something, and took notice. My mother hated that, too, and would tell me off after for undermining her authority. But, of course, she was jealous. That’s what it was. She fell head over heels for him when he first appeared, I can remember. I had never seen her like it before. Then she would remember she was supposed to hate him and it would start all over again. But, she married him!

  ‘She never liked going anywhere with him, never liked what he liked, always considered his pleasures as competition and the only way she could combat that was to try and destroy it or force a choice between herself and whatever it was that interested him.

  He always supported me and whatever I wanted to do, sports, dancing, music, art, I tried them all, and enjoyed them all. I could have taken up any of them and been good, you know.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. Except for mother. Alan never understood why I didn’t stick with anything. But, my mother always destroyed it. ‘Girls didn’t do that’. Or ‘the teacher’s just telling you it’s good, it’s awful!’ That was my art; I met the art teacher a few years ago, he’s retired now, and he asked me why I never continued it, because I was so good, and he’d wanted me to join his art club, but my mother had told him how much I hated art. That actually had me crying in Northumberland Street when he told me that. That was the last straw. As soon as I could I moved out, with Alan’s help.

  ‘The only thing she did encourage me with, for a while, was drama. Because she liked the atmosphere; she really joined in, as well. That was probably the undoing of it all; she became so overpowering and domineering, I think we were asked to leave. Those were the taunts at school, anyway, and thinking back I can see the truth in them. You see, she was always an embarrassment! I ended up hating them both when I was at school, I was so screwed up. She wouldn’t let me do the things he wanted me to do, and I wanted to do; and I hated the things she wanted me to do and he wouldn’t support me, openly.’ She was gazing at the ceiling, lost in the memories of her childhood. Tobin poured some more coffee and waited, intrigued, for her to continue.

  ‘Alan used to be away a lot on business then, and she liked that, not having him around. I don’t mean she misbehaved or anything. Mind you I was very innocent then, so I might not have realised if I had seen anything. Actually, she had lost her looks by then, I think that caused a good part of the bitterness. She couldn’t pull a bloke.’ She laughed bitterly at the thought. ‘But, he was successful and kept her in the manner that she expected. I know now that it wasn’t ‘just luck’ but very hard work that got him there. He earned every penny. But, of course, she wouldn’t see it that way. I can remember some terrible rows about work. ‘Why did he have to go?’ ‘Couldn’t they do it for him, that’s what they’re paid for?’ ‘Sack them!’ ‘You’re the boss, they should do whatever you tell them!’ As if he could do whatever he wanted, whenever.’ Tobin could see where some of Teri’s attitudes came from.

  Teri took a deep breath, paused and blew it out with a whistle. ‘She’s a large part of why we’re here, you realise? Or, at least, why I’m here. I need to make up for my mother. I thought it would be a fairly straightforward job to put things right, I didn’t foresee all of this. I should have known better. If it’s to do with mother, it’s complicated!’

  ‘Me too,’ muttered Tobin.

  ‘Moi aussi.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Moi aussi. Me too.’

  ‘Ah. Moi aussi.’

  ‘Good. Your accent is quite good. Have you never learnt any languages?’

  Tobin shook his head. ‘Non’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘This coffee’s cold. Is Arnaud out there?’ She pointed to the terrace.

  Tobin half rose from the seat to look round the side of the window. He shot back into his seat.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  He pushed her back into her seat as she tried to rise and look for herself.

  ‘Bernie’s out there! He’s sitting in your favourite seat with a perfect view inside and out. This is the only bit he can’t see and as soon as we move he’ll spot us. So, we’re stuck here.’

  ‘We could climb out of this window.’

  Tobin carefully leant over her to look out, he couldn’t see what was immediately below, but couldn’t remember there being any obstruction. ‘First we need to get hold of Arnaud, to tell him to warn Alan.’

  As he spoke a rattly little, diesel powered Renault van pulled up beneath the window and a head of white hair got out of the driver’s door immediately below. Before Tobin could say anything the hair disappeared from view and they heard the kitchen back door slam loudly. As Tobin sat back in his seat Alan appeared behind the counter.

  ‘Arnaud! Arn … .’ He saw Teri and Tobin at their table and stopped open mouthed. Before he could say anything or Tobin could utter a warning Alan’s attention was drawn to the sundeck outside. Tobin looked round his window and saw Bernie standing behind his table; a small revolver was in his hand. His arm began to straighten in aim as footsteps clattered up the stairs behind him. Bernie swung round and saw a young man in the uniform of the municipal police trotting up the steps. He stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of the gun. Bernie’s arm continued to straighten and the gun fired, the sound of the shot echoing off the surrounding buildings with a shattering CRACK! Crack .. crack … crack …. crack. The young officer crumpled and slid down the stairs the thump-thump-thump of his body the only sound in the eerie silence that followed the gunshot.

  Tobin heard a noise in the café and looked round, Alan was gone. Moments later Bernie came thundering through after him. As he reached the counter he glanced into the corner and his step faltered as he took in who was there. In his surprise he misjudged the gap through the counter and caught the corner with his ribs and left arm. He cried out in pain and, still staring at them, hobbled out after his long lost cousin, holding his injured left side with his gun hand.

  Uproar had broken out in the back street, meanwhile, as people milled around the fallen policeman. Four young people, two boys and two girls, were in hysterics as they had been sitting right next to the young officer as he had been hit and had looked down the barrel of the gun as it traversed across them before firing.

  Tobin was first down the steps and forced his way through the throng of people circling the body; not one of them attempted to help. He grabbed some coats from bystanders, amid loud protests and covered up the young man; hardly more than a boy to look at. Teri was shouting behind him, ‘Ambulance! SAMU! Secours! Agh!’ She waved her hands in frustration at the gawking mob.

  The injured man lay on his back, moaning and clutching his right side with both hands. Blood was seeping from under them, staining his blue shirt and dripping onto the ground. He groaned as Tobin prised his hands away, some members of the crowd gasped in horror and stepped away. The bullet had torn through the side of his abdomen, entering just beside his navel and exiting at the side above his hip, tearing through the muscle layer. He felt the man’s pockets and pulled out his handkerchief,
fortunately clean and fresh, unlike Tobin’s own. He folded it into thirds pressed it to the wound. The policeman was only too willing to hold it in place as Tobin ran his hands down his arms and legs checking for any further injuries from the fall down the stairs. He appeared to be all right other than the wound.

  ‘The gendarmerie is just round the corner,’ Teri told him, ‘help will be here any moment.’

  ‘This lot are no use, are they?’ He said, gesturing in disgust at the crowd. As he spoke there was a pounding of feet and shouting nearby and he could hear the wailing of a siren approaching. The crowd behind was roughly pushed aside amid more shouting and two more policemen landed on their knees beside him. Something was demanded of him in French, he looked to Teri for help. She said something in return as the ambulance screeched to a halt at the end of the lane and a stretcher was rushed down. Tobin allowed himself to be lifted out of the way as the paramedics took over.

  The crowd had fallen silent and parted before them as he and Teri headed for the steps, his blood smothered hands held out in front of him. Arnaud ushered them through the crowd.

  ‘Monsieur! Monsieur!’

  Teri tugged at Tobin’s arm to draw his attention to the policeman who was calling to him. Tobin looked round. The wounded man was on a stretcher and being carried away already as one of the other policemen called to Tobin. ‘Merci, Monsieur, Merci.’ He just waved wearily and turned to mount the steps.

  Tobin washed and dried himself while Teri fetched him a clean shirt from the car. By the time he had finished there was a senior looking police officer waiting in the café.

  ‘English?’ Demanded the officer.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I must thank you for assisting my officer.’

  ‘That’s OK. It was the least I could do.’

  ‘I must have your passports.’ He held out his hand in demand.

  ‘It’s in the car.’

  ‘So’s mine. I’ll fetch the car shall I?’

  ‘You must stay!’ He ordered Tobin.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll come back.’ Said Teri.

  ‘Please sit and wait.’ He instructed and indicated the table they had occupied earlier. Tobin watched him go and try and organize the remaining police force herding potential witnesses on to the terrace outside. He leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel a bit shaken and cold.

  He didn’t know how long he had sat like that before he heard the scrape of a chair and Teri’s voice beside him. ‘Alan’s car is still there, I’ve just parked behind it.’

  ‘Where do you think he went?’ Tobin opened his eyes, Teri and Arnaud were gazing down at him. Arnaud proffered a cup of coffee. Teri asked him a question in French and even Tobin could tell that the answer was reluctantly given.

  ‘Arnaud says he lives in Venosc.’

  ‘Ah. I’ve seen the cable car that goes down there. It’s right at the end of the village.’ His hand gestures obviously overcame the language barrier as Arnaud nodded in agreement.

  ‘And, as we haven’t heard anymore, he must have made it without Bernie catching him,’ added Teri.

  ‘I don’t think Bernie is going to catch anyone. He caught his ribs on the corner of the counter as he rushed out and it hurt him badly. Alan’s extremely fit, I doubt if many people could catch him and Bernie would soon realize that. He must have had a car parked near here, which he’s got away in. Has Arnaud seen him before?’

  Teri repeated the question, her eyebrows rose as she listened to the answer. ‘Apparently, Bernie was here late yesterday afternoon asking for Alan, using a photo.’

  They heard the sound of a helicopter arriving as the senior policeman returned. Arnaud left them alone.

  ‘I must thank you for your assistance, again. My officer will not die!’ They were glad to hear it. ‘What is your relation to M. Martin?’

  ‘He is my stepfather.’ The policeman looked puzzled. She tried again. ‘Mon père. Ah, non. Umm.’ She racked her memory for the expression Alan had taught her, but she had never had to use till now. Tobin watched, lost. ‘Ah! Erm, Beau-père?’

  ‘Ah. Oui. Beau-père.’ He looked puzzled.

  She looked smugly at Tobin and chattered on in French. Tobin sat quietly and drank his coffee. Teri turned back to him and condescendingly explained. ‘Monsieur l’agent,’ she indicated the policeman with a sickly smile, ‘was not aware that I was related to Alan. They are old friends apparently and he is very worried that someone is chasing his friend. Unfortunately, we must remain here while he registers our presence and consults with those above him.’ She looked back at him with the same smile; the officer returned it with a nod of agreement. ‘So, basically, we’re stuck!’

  ‘I am sorry. I will be as quick as possible. But, I think our friend is gone.’

  The rest of the morning was spent window shopping, returning to Arnaud’s for lunch.

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