Chapter 17
‘I wonder if you’d like to do something different tomorrow?’ Finn asks as we return from our now regular morning walk a few days later.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘We’re at the halfway point of the retreat and, while I may not have found the thing that’s going to sell this show, sitting in the garden going over the same options while the Double-Doubles give me death stares every time they pass is not proving very fruitful.
You seem to be making good progress, so I wondered whether a day out might be fun. ’
I stop walking to look at him. I’ve come to really value these early-morning strolls together.
We generally alternate between trying to come up with something that’s going to make his auction show stand out, and me explaining what’s going on in my story.
Thankfully, Gina seems far too busy fighting with Tess over her edits to bother with Finn and me beyond the odd pointed remark, which naturally means Suzie and Grace are broadly ignoring us as well.
Even Lynette seems to have lost interest; I wasn’t best pleased with her for ‘outing’ me to the others, and I think she picked up on that and realised I wasn’t going to be her playmate any more.
All of this means that Finn and I have formed a kind of bubble away from the others.
We walk before breakfast, sit together at the bottom end of the table for mealtimes, and meet up regularly through the day for tea and coffee breaks.
I’ve found that I’m enjoying both the routine and his company.
He may not be Henry Cavill, but his personality more than makes up for that.
I’ve come to love the way his eyes light up and his speech quickens when he’s excited about something, usually because he’s had an idea that might dig me out of a plot hole.
His enthusiasm is genuinely infectious, but he’s also a really good listener and sounding board.
I’ve already decided to include him in the acknowledgements for this book, but I still wish I could return the favour by helping him unlock the USP for his show.
Unfortunately, although I am devoting some time to it, I’m hampered by the fact that I know very little about auctions and even less about daytime TV.
‘A day out,’ I repeat, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand as I look up at him.
‘Yes. I could do with a fresh perspective, and I thought different scenery might help.’
I smile. ‘And what’s in it for me? What’s my motivation in this scene, as the actors say?’
‘A day off to reward yourself for working so hard and making such good progress?’
It is a tempting idea. My shady spot in the garden of L’Ancien Presbytère is lovely, but it would be a shame to spend all my time there without getting out and seeing some of the surrounding countryside, particularly as I went to all the expense of hiring a car.
‘Did you have somewhere specific in mind?’ I ask him.
‘Yes. It’s just a suggestion, obviously, but I was doing some online research yesterday and there’s an aquapark about half an hour’s drive away.’ He grins. ‘Although, given my woeful sense of direction, it’ll probably take us around three hours to get there.’
‘An aquapark? Isn’t that all flume slides and screaming children?’
‘No. This is a natural one. So there’s a lake you can swim in if you like, but there are also rowing boats, pedaloes and picnic tables set up around the shore. I talked to Cara yesterday and she’s quite happy to put a hamper together for our lunch if we want her to.’
This is enough to seal the deal. Cara’s food has definitely been one of the high points of the retreat, so I’m sure whatever she would put together would be rather more spectacular than the slightly sweaty ham and cheese sandwiches we used to have on picnics as children.
‘Sure,’ I tell him as we start to make our way down the drive. ‘Why not? I might even bring my swimming costume. There’s just one thing though.’
‘What?’
‘Would it be better if I drove?’
He laughs. ‘Knock yourself out.’
‘This was a superb idea,’ I say to Finn as we set up a kind of base camp at one of the picnic tables in the park the next morning.
Although I say so myself, the drive over was considerably less alarming than the brief journey I endured with Finn behind the wheel on the day he arrived.
Something seems to have clicked in my brain so, not only did I stay on the right side of the road all the way, but there were no attempts to change gear with the wrong hand either.
The only downside was that I was concentrating so hard that I didn’t get to enjoy the view, which Finn kept telling me was spectacular.
The park itself is just as he described.
I don’t know whether the lake is natural or man-made, but it blends perfectly into its surroundings.
The area around it is mainly neatly mown grass, with mature trees providing shade for the picnic tables.
We’re early enough that it’s not particularly busy yet, but there are already a few people in the water and a couple of boats out in the middle of the lake.
‘Do you think our stuff will be all right here?’ Finn asks as he carefully places the cool box that Cara has packed for us out of the sun. She’s also given us swimming towels and special aqua shoes to stop us hurting our feet in case the bottom of the lake turns out to be rocky.
‘Yeah,’ I tell him as I slip off my shoes, enjoying the sensation of the cool grass underfoot. ‘Lots of the other tables have stuff by them, see?’
He glances around and seems reassured. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘So what I thought was maybe we should take a boat out before it gets too hot, and then we can swim to cool down later if we need to.’
‘You’ve really put a lot of planning into this, haven’t you?’
‘A little,’ he admits. ‘It’s been nice, actually. Something other than my non-existent show to think about, for a change. I had this image in my mind of you relaxing in the back of the boat with a glass of champagne while I rowed you.’
‘Very Brideshead Revisited,’ I say with a laugh. ‘Although I probably should have brought a parasol rather than a sun hat to complete the look. A slim volume of poetry would help as well.’
‘Good point. Do you like poetry then?’
‘No. On second thoughts, it would look like a poetry book but actually be a thriller inside.’
‘What about me?’
‘Oh, you’d be dressed in linen trousers rather than those shorts, and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up.’ To my surprise, an image of Finn dressed exactly like that forms in my mind, and it’s far from unpleasant.
‘Damn. See, this is what happens when you try to arrange things for authors,’ he quips.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’ve taken my vague idea, instantly coloured in all the detail and the final picture is completely different from the original.
Now I feel like a total failure. I mean, what kind of man forgets a parasol and his linen trousers on a trip like this?
’ He slaps his forehead. ‘Shit. I’ve just realised I’ve forgotten my full-body woollen bathing costume as well. We’re doomed.’
‘Are you having a nice time?’ I ask him.
He grins. ‘I am, actually. Now, despite my abject failures, shall we go and see a man about a boat?’
There’s a short queue at the boat hire kiosk, and I’m intrigued by the different ability levels of the other customers as they set off.
Some are obviously experienced rowers, pulling away confidently from the jetty and gliding smoothly out towards the middle of the lake, but others are finding it more of a struggle, and one unfortunate guy has veered straight into the bank and appears to be stuck.
One of the kiosk staff is shouting instructions to him, but he’s either unable to hear or doesn’t speak French, as not much seems to be happening.
I turn to Finn. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is your rowing better than that?’
He blushes slightly. ‘Umm. It’s not something I have much experience in,’ he admits. ‘But I’m sure I can work it out.’
‘Let’s take a pedalo.’
‘What? I thought we were doing the full 1920s experience.’
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I’m not sure being repeatedly rammed into the bank and shouted at by irate Frenchmen is really going to conjure up the right vibe. At least we have a vague chance of going in the right direction with a pedalo.’
He sighs. ‘You’re right. OK, pedalo it is.’
Any final hope of recreating a scene Evelyn Waugh would have been proud of is dashed by the bright orange lifejackets we’re given before we’re allowed anywhere near the water.
‘Vous devez aller a droite et rester loin des nageurs,’ the attendant tells us firmly as he helps us onto the pedalo.
‘Oui, Monsieur. Merci,’ Finn replies as he lets go of the rope and we start to drift away from the jetty.
‘Any idea what he said?’ Finn asks as we start to turn the pedals.
‘I think we need to keep right and keep away from the nageurs, whatever they are?’
‘Aren’t they clouds?’
‘That doesn’t make sense though. How would we keep away from the clouds?’
‘Snow?’
‘No, that’s neige. Got it. They’re swimmers.’
‘That makes more sense. How did you figure it out?’
I smile. ‘There’s a sign over there that says Nageurs interdit au-delà de ce point, and there’s a picture of a swimmer with a line through. Pretty big clue, wouldn’t you say?’
‘So, I did have an idea about your show last night, but it’s probably no good,’ I tell him some time later.
We returned the pedalo once the heat started to build and we’re now sitting at our table in the shade with the remnants of Cara’s picnic around us, although the word ‘picnic’ doesn’t do any justice to the banquet that we found inside the cool box.
As well as the cold meats, paté and cheese that you’d expect to go with the obligatory baguette, there was a selection of salads, a bottle of white wine that we haven’t opened, and some pastries for pudding that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Maison Olivia.
‘Go on. Any ideas at all are more than welcome.’
‘As I said, I’m no auction expert, but Liv is a sucker for Antiques Roadshow on TV. We watch it every week when it’s on, and it occurred to me that it meets one of your criteria for a game show.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘OK, so people bring their stuff to the experts, hoping against hope that the tatty teapot or whatever that they’ve inherited from Great-Aunt Mildred actually turns out to be worth millions.’
‘I’m not sure all of them think like that.’
‘Of course they do. You can see it in their eyes on the rare occasion that their junk does actually turn out to be worth something. They say things like “Oh, I could never part with it. It’s my only connection to Great-Aunt Mildred”, but you can practically hear them thinking, “Yes! I’m totally flogging this at the first opportunity. ”’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it. How does this tie in to my show?’
‘Have a ringer in each round. So, there was one week when someone brought this really tatty watch to be valued. I mean, the thing looked like it was barely worth a tenner, but it turned out to be some really rare Rolex that was actually worth tens of thousands. So, you include something like that in every round, with some kind of reward or penalty depending on whether the contestants correctly identify it.’
He thinks for a while, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. ‘I like it. No, actually, that’s genius,’ he says with a smile. ‘Although I might adapt it slightly, as I think it could be difficult to find something that could do that in every round.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Have one ringer item per episode, like a joker in the pack. The contestants know it will appear at some point, but it could be in any round. If they guess it correctly, it doubles their prize fund, providing they make it to the final round.’
‘Potentially expensive.’
‘Oh, prize money is the least of the producer’s worries on a show like this. The audience will love it too.’
‘What about the jeopardy aspect?’
He thinks a little more. ‘Firstly, we don’t reveal whether any of them have correctly identified the rogue item until the very end.
That introduces tension because even the winner won’t know in the final round if their fund is going to be doubled or not.
Furthermore, if they choose an item that turns out not to be the joker in the pack or don’t choose one at all, their prize fund is halved.
We could also reveal the item to the audience at home at the start, instructing them to look away if they don’t want to know what it is.
I’ll say it again, Laura. You’re a bloody genius. That’s absolutely brilliant!’
Before I know what’s happening, he’s taken my head in his hands and planted a full-on smacker of a kiss on my lips.
‘Oh, shit,’ he exclaims, suddenly realising what he’s done and turning crimson with embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry, I got caught up in the moment.’
‘It’s fine,’ I tell him, eager to defuse the sudden tension in the air. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’
What I’m not going to tell Finn is that it’s rather more than fine. It’s a long time since anyone has kissed me as uncomplicatedly and joyously as that, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.