Page 31 of Happily Never After
I study him for a moment while part of my brain frantically tries to remember if I mentioned where I was staying during our brief conversation at the airport. If he’s followed me, then that’s creepy as hell and his intentions can’t be good. I glance around furtively, trying not to raise his suspicions while scanning to see if there’s anyone who would come to my aid if I shouted. The other part of my brain is trying to remember what ‘help!’ is in French.Au secours, I think.
I’m sure I didn’t tell him where I was staying.
‘How did you find me?’ I ask.
‘Sorry?’ He looks genuinely confused. ‘I wasn’t looking for you. As I said, I’m booked into a place called L’Ancien Presbytère, which is somewhere round here. I think this is the fourth time I’ve driven over this bridge so far this morning and, pretty though this town is, I’d like to get to my destination before I die of old age. So I stopped the first person I saw to ask for directions, and that happened to be you.’ His face falls. ‘You didn’t think…’
Oh, God. He looks absolutely crestfallen now as the reason for my questions has evidently dawned on him.
‘You’ve got to admit, it is a hell of a coincidence that you should pitch up here,’ I say.
‘Shit. I haven’t followed you, I swear. I didn’t even know you were going to be here. I’m doing a two-week retreat here, that’s all.’
‘At L’Ancien Presbytère.’
‘Yes.’
‘What sort of retreat?’ He seems increasingly legitimate, but I can’t help testing him further. If he gets this wrong, I’m out of here.
‘It’s a writers’ retreat,’ he tells me. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, no reason,’ I tell him. ‘It’s just that I’m staying at L’Ancien Presbytère as well, and the chances of that being a coincidence are infinitesimally small, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘So you know where it is then?’ His face has lit up with hope.
‘I do.’
‘This is probably a stupid question, given what you evidently think of me, but you wouldn’t be able to show me, would you? I’d be eternally grateful.’
A memory is stirring of Hugh telling me that there was one more guest to arrive in our party. Yes, it is a hell of a coincidence that it should be Finn, but everything he’s said so far has checked out. Normally, I’d run a mile before getting into a car with a strange man who, up until a few seconds ago, I suspected was stalking me. I take a moment to study him. It sounds silly, but his blue eyes have exactly the same imploring look that Meg uses when she wants something, and I can feel myself softening. His slender physique and soft-looking hands also add to the impression that he’s not a threat. Nevertheless, I’m cautious as I open the door and slip into the passenger seat.
‘I should warn you that I’m trained in martial arts,’ I tell him as he pulls away. ‘Take the next left.’
‘Noted,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Although I really am only after directions, I promise. I take it you’re a writer then.’
‘Yes,’ I admit.
‘What do you write?’
‘Crime.’
There’s a brief kerfuffle as he swings onto the wrong side of the road after making the turn, to the consternation of a van driver coming the other way, but thankfully he manages to swerve out of the way just in time.
‘What about you? What do you write?’ I ask him as we leave the town behind us.
‘Ah. Confession time,’ he replies as he attempts my trick of changing gear with the door handle. ‘I’m not strictly a writer. I, umm, devise TV shows.’
‘Take the next turning on the right. What kind of TV shows?’
‘Game shows, quizzes, that kind of thing. Have you ever seenCash in the Theatre?’
‘I can’t say I have, no.’
‘OK. I only mention it because it’s one of my more successful shows. It goes out at three o’clock every weekday.’
‘I’m not a daytime TV person, I’m afraid. What’s it about?’
‘It’s loosely based on the board gameOperation, do you know that?’
