rearranging her clothing, murmuring, ‘Ciao!’ back into the room and then nodding most courteously to Josh and Cat as she passed.
‘Fletcher!’ Josh cried once he’d closed his jaw, while Cat stood stock still and flabbergasted. ‘Bloody show yourself.’
Alex appeared, with a John Wayne swagger and a Benny Hill grin. ‘I’m shagged!’ he declared. Then he steadied his head with both hands and moaned, ‘I’m also still pissed, I think.’
‘What’s her name?’ Cat whispered.
‘Oh,’ Alex fumbled, waving the air dismissively, ‘Mary, Margaret, Molly – something like that,’ though he knew full well that her name was Maria Angelo because it had taken him most of the previous evening, his entire repertoire of chat-up lines, an exorbitant amount of Pernod and the false promise of Laurent Jalabert’s autograph to lure her back to his room. ‘Come on, I desperately need caffeine. And food. I need to replenish. I’m knackered. Shagged. Fucking hell.’
‘I’m going to the salle de pressé,’ said Cat, looking imploring at Josh who was looking reprovingly at Alex.
‘See you there,’ Josh said, glancing at Cat. ‘I’d better chaperone this jerk all the way.’
‘Oh,’ faltered Cat, ‘OK.’
‘Are you going to transcribe your Luca tape?’ Josh asked.
‘Yes,’ Cat said pensively. She tried to communicate via loaded glances but, whereas Rachel would have read her perfectly, Josh just thought he had shaving cream on his cheek or toothpaste on his lips or sleep dust in his eyes. ‘If you have a mo’,’ Cat said to Josh, realizing Alex was too distracted and hungover to eavesdrop, ‘I wanted to talk – remember?’
‘Oh sure, yes of course,’ said Josh. ‘Later? After breakfast?’
Cat nodded, hoping that a slightly worried twitch of her eyebrows would signify that she wanted to talk in private too.
‘But Luca won the bloody fucking Stage yesterday,’ Cat fulminated in fine salle de pressé style down the phone to Andy at Maillot, ‘and I’ve got an exclusive.’ Andy pointed out that she had interviewed Luca before he was a Tour de France Stage winner. ‘How about a fun little piece on how the riders spend the Repos?’ Cat suggested, undeterred.
‘Who’ve you got?’
‘Um – not a problem.’
‘Sure, but who?’
‘It’s no problem – honestly. Who do you want?’
‘Cat,’ Andy cautioned.
‘Any news on my job?’ she continued, thinking her idea for a Rest Day vignette very good and wondering to whom else she could pitch it.
‘Not as yet,’ said Andy.
Frustrated but not discouraged, Cat plugged an earpiece into her dictaphone and set Luca’s interview running. Alex and Josh arrived when she was half-way through it. Ben rang her at much the same time as the boys beeped their laptops into life.
‘Hurry up,’ was how he greeted her, ‘I’m horny.’
It gave her the impetus to decline a coffee break, to concentrate hard on Luca’s gems and hardly touch the pause or rewind buttons.
‘The only humping for me will be going up and down those fucking mountains.’
Darling Luca.
‘Are you nervous?’ Cat murmured out loud, in sync with her final question to the rider.
‘That is not a question for me to answer,’ she replied, alongside Luca in her ear. And then she remembered asking him if he was scared and he’d nodded and it wouldn’t have come out on tape and she’d never impart his answer anyway. Finished. Done. She set her dictaphone to rewind, saved her work, flexed her over-exerted fingers, raised her eyebrow at Alex who looked ghastly but self-satisfied and raised her eyebrow at Josh, hoping he’d read it as a request for a moment’s privacy.
‘Finished?’ he asked.
‘Yup,’ said Cat, her eyebrow still at work. Her phone rang. It was Ben.
‘Get your gorgeous ass over here, McCabe. I have wheels, wine and wanton wishes. Come on!’
My slate is clear – it’s Fate! thought Cat, gathering her things enthusiastically.
‘Did you want to nip out?’ Josh asked, seeing that Alex was staring gormlessly into the middle distance. ‘For a quick chat?’
‘Oh,’ said Cat, suddenly flummoxed, ‘later – would that be OK? I mean, I wouldn’t want to prolong your work – it is the Repos.’
‘Sure,’ said Josh, ‘can I borrow your Luca tape?’
‘Sure,’ said Cat, handing over her dictaphone, a swarm of butterflies making her all but float out of the salle de pressé with huge anticipation, much lust, a sizeable smile and a veritable gleam in her eyes.
If the salle de pressé was like the university library at the end of term, airy, fresh-smelling, laid back and less than half full; the town of Le Cap D’Arp was like a cycling holiday camp. Cat was passed by Tour de France riders in little posses twiddling through town on their way out for a few hours to keep their legs turning. On the beach, Cat noted those who’d trained early and who were now sunbathing in a futile bid to neutralize the demarcation of their bronzed legs, necks and arms from their lily-white T-shirt chests and pale feet and hands. Elsewhere, others were with their families, being treated like royalty by the local cafés and those not in view were obviously indulging in time and space with their wives and girlfriends. Or being massaged. Or playing computer games. Or sleeping. Vasily Jawlensky had become the Pied Piper of cycling; when he left his hotel with Fugallo to ride, scores of kids, teenagers, amateurs and fans pedalled alongside, behind, some even taking their chance in front; everyone smiling. A little way out of town, Vasily glanced at Gianni and the two of them streamed onwards, giving the impression that their followers had come to a complete standstill though they all continued to pedal their hearts out.
Directeurs sportifs sat in the bars, mobile phones at the ready. Journalists not at work took the opportunity to launder their backlog of smalls. Mechanics played volleyball on the beach; soigneurs shopped locally for bananas and Vaseline and honey and fabric conditioner for sensitive skin. Cat passed Jules Le Grand, two mobile phones on his brasserie table, a clutch of fans and journalists hovering near by. He tipped his head to one side and proffered his hand which she took and shook whilst he stood and kissed her on both cheeks before taking his seat, answering one phone, having to switch the other to his messaging service. Where was Rachel, Cat wondered? Was Vasily back? Would he and Rachel sneak any time together? She’d phone later. Anything and everything could wait till later. For now, her undivided attention was for Ben.
Initially, she felt a little shy when she saw him, half-wondering whether she should repeat and reaffirm all she told him the night before. Tenderly, he put his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her softly on the lips.
‘Allons?’ she smiled.
‘Not
