‘It’s the story of Pierre-Paul Riquet. The man who built the Canal du Midi. His life story and the challenges he had to overcome.’
Evie shoulders relaxed a little as she sat back in her chair. ‘Yes, makes sense. I should have guessed. Sounds fascinating! I’ll definitely be watching. He was quite the visionary. And it took a lot of money, time and expertise to get it completed. I love the fact that so many women were involved, and that the peasant women from the mountains had such an influence in the design. I hope you’ve included their story too.’
He scratched his head. ‘Well it’s more about his quest to get authorities and nobles to listen to his ideas, he had quite a battle to realise his dream. Even went against them and worked in secret.’
‘Oh, so it’s all about the men. Why are the heroes all male? I suppose that’s how you get the bulk of the viewers. Yes, Riquet should take credit for the overall initiation and the design of such a monumental achievement, but the Fonserannes Lock would never have worked without the expertise from the peasant woman. I think their inclusion would make it far more interesting.’
Ben’s eyes were suddenly distracted. ‘Ah,’ he peered up as a young woman approached the table. ‘Samantha, this is Evie.’ He stood up. ‘This is my second AD, assistant director.’
The assistant handed a package to the medic. ‘For the patient, I presume?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Evie immediately wondered if she and Ben were a couple. The girl was about her own age, possibly a little older, and she had the most beautiful long golden hair which spiralled down her back – almost touching her miniscule denim shorts. Samantha held out a tanned arm, offering a welcome hand.
‘Hi Evie. Gosh. That was scary. How are you?’ the assistant said, shaking her hand and immediately squatting to inspect the wound, her lips pouting one way and then another. ‘Mmm, fierce, you’ll have a nasty bruise.’
As Samantha examined her leg, Evie observed Ben. He watched his assistant step back as Carl positioned the ice. Evie blushed and reached for her glass.
‘Sam’s also our first-aider,’ Ben said. ‘She likes to mother.’
Samantha looked at Evie, ‘Take no notice, but you are trembling. Make sure you rest here for a while just to recover from the shock.’ Samantha tossed her head at Ben, rubbing her palms. ‘I can sit here with her.’
Cracking one knuckle with his other hand, his eyes glistened as he glanced from Evie to his assistant.
‘No, I’ll stay here with her and then run her home. Inform Daniel and Ravi. I think Gaz is in the van. Ask him for a form. I’ll start a report? I’m surprised he hasn’t got wind, but let him know, and can you tell the guys to break for an hour, then prepare to run through it again. They can then muck the road. Thanks. And thanks for getting here so quick.’
‘No problem.’ Samantha smiled. ‘Lovely to meet you, Evie. I hope you’ll be ok.’
Evie nodded. ‘Yep, fine. I’ll be off shortly. Bye and thank you.’
After waving her off, Evie said to the medic, ‘I can hold that ice on?’
‘It’s fine. You relax,’ he instructed, winding gauze around the ice on her leg.
‘Are you sure you won’t have another drink?’ Ben asked, ‘… Unless,’ he paused ‘would it be possible to take you out for a meal one evening?’
Again, the blood rushed to her cheeks as their eyes locked. Biting her lip, she said, ‘I’m sorry, my partner wouldn’t approve.’
‘Ah. When you said Charlotte was all you had, I obviously misunderstood but, fine, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’
Evie met his eyes with nervous approval. The rhythm of her heart started increasing. Had he really just asked her for a date?
Evie was still trembling when she climbed into the passenger seat of Ben’s 4x4, but noticed she felt weirdly invigorated. The accident must have pumped her blood so fast, she could only imagine her veins had stretched. Or was it that she was so happy to be alive? Ben placed her bike in the back before sliding in next to her wearing a comforting smile.
‘Are you ok?’
‘Yes, fine. I live in a village on the canal, do you know Colombiers?
‘Ah, mais oui! Tres beau.’ His smile flashed straight to her heart.
Maybe it was this man who was bringing her alive. He must have meant a date. What else? No one had asked her for a date since Charlotte, or since Seb at least. Although out of the question, it would be nice. Seb rarely took her out on proper dates when he bothered to come home. It would be magic to be romanced.
Those first weeks when she and Seb had met in Majorca were amazing. Seb had kept eyeing her whilst she’d served drinks at the Puro Club in Palma, joking and teasing, mainly flirting. Despite his forwardness, she’d enjoyed his attention and had found him savagely sexy. Not only that, she’d felt unbelievably special. She’d been singled out. Almost every girl in that bar wished they’d been in her shoes. He was the star, devilishly handsome, famous and, to boot, when he sang, his voice had rampantly resonated through to her soul. So it didn’t take long before she’d fallen for his easy charm and succumbed to his lair; in fact, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They’d spent many glorious days together, either lying idly in bed, making love, or lazing around the pool at Seb’s luxury harbour-side apartment, on the beach, or driving up to the mountains in his jeep, fine-dining on beautiful terraces. How she missed those days, missed Seb. He just wasn’t the same guy she’d met then. He’d spent time with her then. She could only hope he’d get bored with his music and come home.
She breathed out a heavy sigh and scooped back her hair.
Again Ben’s eyes met hers, his mouth curled to one side. Clasping her chest as it fluttered uncontrollably, she couldn’t believe such a small movement of the lips and eyes could create so much energy.
‘Well, before I so clumsily asked you out,’ he said, turning forward again and peering through the rear-view mirror, ‘and the reason I’d like us to talk is – I quite like your suggestion, about the peasant women, I mean. We are still in the early days of filming, and I’m wondering whether I should include a few more characters. I think it would be interesting to look at another dimension. I need to speak to the other producers. It would take more funding but you could be right.’ He turned again as she stared at him, open-mouthed.
The glint in his eyes zoomed straight into her limbs as though Tinkerbelle was sprinkling fairy dust. ‘So, are you the writer?’
‘Yes, I’m the director, one of the producers too, and did write the script. Call it my baby. It’s well supported by the funders, but now I’m questioning whether I’ve done it justice. I would be interested to hear what you know.’
She guided him to her home as he drove, her head still in a cloud of mist, and with a smile she could barely contain. He had been paying attention to what she had said and, evidently, liked it. At least enough to want to consider possibilities. When had anyone expressed interest in what she said?
‘Well, I don’t know your script but… oh,’ her hands joined together as if in prayer whilst her adrenaline intensified. ‘I don’t have all the details to hand, but I certainly remember reading about it. I’m sure I could source the book again.’ Evie chewed on her lip wondering where she had read it. ‘I studied journalism so I enjoy a bit of investigation.’
‘Really, that’s great. Would you consider doing some research? I’d pay you, of course.’
Hiding a smile, her hand flew