Page 62 of The Paris Trip

But the treacherous wind instantly snatched the unprotected hat from her head and dashed it into the river. Or would have done, if the protective bumpers fixed to the lower side of the boat hadn’t got in the way, leaving the hat hooked close to the lapping water.

With a shriek of horror, Maeve made an automatic grab for it, leaning precariously over the rail as she cried out, ‘My hat… Oh no, my lovely hat!’

‘Maeve, no, leave it,’ Leo warned her.

A startled crew member darted forward at the exact same time as Leo.

But neither of them could reach her in time to prevent the inevitable from happening.

Somehow majestic, Maeve tumbled over the railing, pale legs waving in the air, and disappeared with a splash and a despairing wail into the filthy waters below.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Maeve could not quite believe the stupidity of what she’d done. One second, she’d been stretching on tiptoe for her hat, sure she could probably reach it with a little help… The next she’d been plunged headfirst into chill water in the shadow of the boat, the rapid change in temperature a heart-wrenching shock after the hot sunshine on deck.

Sinking rapidly, she’d kicked and flailed about wildly, struggling to return to the surface and much-needed oxygen. It wasn’t easy. The Seine was surprisingly deep and choppy, almost like the open sea…

She emerged with a violent intake of breath that also included some river water. E. coli, she thought with horror. This disgusting, oily fluid she spat out at once, working her arms and legs to keep afloat as she put aside embarrassment and focused on survival.

Up above, she saw Leo staring down at her.

Oh God.

She heard her thought echoed in a deep voice from the deck. ‘Mon Dieu,’ one of the crew exclaimed, tossing an orange lifebuoy ring after her. ‘Les anglaises!’

The lifebuoy ring bobbed about a few feet away. Keeping her chin above the filthy water, mouth clamped shut, Maeve doggy-paddled towards it, conscious of the looming bulk of the boat like a sheer wall above her. The ring evaded her, skittering away on a bobbing crest as she approached, but with an almighty effort she grabbed it with one hand and dragged it towards her.

‘Maeve?’ Leo was leaning over the side, peering at her. She stared up in dismay, hoping he wouldn’t make the same mistake she had. But of course he didn’t. ‘Are you all right?’

Am I all right?

Good grief.

‘What… does it… blearh… look like?’ she spluttered crossly.

‘Hang on,’ he told her. ‘We’re going to rescue you.’

‘Don’t you try climbing down!’ she cried, fearful for his safety.

But she needn’t have worried. ‘Not a chance.’ There was laughter in his voice, she was sure. ‘I’ll leave this one to the experts. Try to stay warm by treading water, okay?’

Tourists had also gathered to stare over the side of the boat, some even forgetting to disembark. There were more on the river bank behind her, she realised, risking a quick glance that way. More than a few were holding up cameras, no doubt taking pictures or actually filming her humiliation. She pretended not to have noticed them, but it was pretty hard. Especially when a crew member climbed over the side of the boat, attached to a rope looped about his middle, to rescue her, and a buzz went up among those watching.

Like feeding time at the zoo, she thought furiously.

It took some fifteen minutes before she was safely back on board and being tended by a paramedic, who had arrived on a motorbike with sirens and lights, drawing yet more attention.

Dripping wet and shivering, Maeve was taken into a small inner cabin, wrapped in a foil blanket for warmth, while a female crew member dabbed ineffectually at her sodden hair and clothes with a towel. Her face, neck, hands and arms had been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, and advice given about possible E. coli infection, though apparently the risk was low.

The boat steward stood over her, arms folded, complaining in a voluble fashion about her ‘reckless behaviour’. Apparently, some of the tourists had been asking for their money back due to the lengthy delay. He also asked if she needed the police to be called, which was apparently what they were supposed to do in the event of someone going overboard. An incident report was already being drawn up by a crew member, and it was clear they wanted her to admit full liability.

‘Did you not see the safety notices?’ the steward kept demanding. ‘They are posted at intervals all along the railing in French and English. Danger. No leaning over.’

‘I was trying to reach my hat,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Not even to reach a hat.’ The steward made an angry noise under his breath, shaking his head. ‘What did you think was going to happen, hein?’

‘Go easy on her,’ Leo exclaimed at one point in growling French, glaring at the steward from under taut brows. ‘Can’t you see she’s in shock?’

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