‘Here, I’ll hold the bike while you take…’ he stopped, holding out his hand and squinting, ‘err, Charlotte is it?’
Evie swallowed as a faint blush brushed over her chest. He remembered. That was unexpected.
‘Yes,’ she nodded as he placed a firm grip on the handlebars, and sandwiched his legs around the front of the wheel. Unleashing Charlotte and taking her hand, she followed Ben through the crowd and stood behind him as he put his hand in the air. Looking down at the bottom of the deep staircase of locks, she could see Samantha, Ben’s assistant, sticking up a hand and showing a thumb. They slid through an opening beside the barrier and began to potter down the steep hill. A few people began to follow, but Ben held up his palm and, very politely, asked them to wait.
‘You’re going to be popular,’ Evie told him.
‘Not long now though. I just hope we have enough time. Ah, looks like they’re ready. Probably just waiting for us to get out of the way.’
Evie swept Charlotte into her arms, livening up her pace. ‘You should have said.’
‘How have you both been anyway?’ Ben asked, finishing off his ice cream.
‘Fine, absolutely fine. The new bike is good too.’
‘Well good to know it’s not getting a chance to gather dust.’
‘Actually, it probably is on these paths now, but, yes, I use it every day. I couldn’t imagine getting around here much with a pushchair.’
Reaching the café at the bottom of the slope, Ben parked the bike. ‘Go and take a seat, I’ll be over shortly.’
Evie chose a seat on the front overlooking the canal. There was so much choice. Usually, the café was rammed as she cycled by, this obviously wasn’t good for business. She felt rather important when a further horde of people observed her from the bottom barrier as she perched herself and Charlotte among the vacant seats. Immediately, the waiter brought over a highchair and she sat Charlotte down. From her rucksack, she pulled out two small picture books and opened one up for Charlotte who immediately began pointing and gabbling.
‘Avez-vous choisi?’ the smiling young waiter asked.
In his absence, she ordered Ben a small beer, a coffee for herself, then peered round to survey the scene. Groups of men milled around in peasant clothes with pick axes, feigning work on a large grassed area beside the lock. On a lower section of the lock a cluster of women, also peasant-clad from the Riquet era, were accompanied by scruffy children. Further down, at the basin, nobler men with long curls dressed in pantaloons sashed at the waist and long jackets decorated with cravats were in discussion on a grass bank. No doubt, she figured, they must generate computer imaging to create authenticity with the background, but she found it fascinating. Ben must have a picture in his mind of the scenes and shots, and she was glad to see he had included the women. Her mind wandered as she gazed back at them. Who were they, she asked herself. What villages did they come from? Who did they leave behind? What life did they forsake to work here? And, was there anyone special for Mr Riquet among these women?
Questions still whirled as Ben, she realised, was now in front of her and his fresh scent breezed around her.
‘Looks good, don’t you think?’ he grinned, the glint in his eyes instantly forcing a crimson glow to her cheeks.
Just as she was about to speak, they were interrupted by the waiter placing drinks on the table in front of them.
‘Oh, I ordered you a small beer. Is that ok?’
‘Perfect, just what I need.’
‘So, yes, the costumes look amazing. I presume your main character, Mr Riquet, is among the dignitaries, there,’ she pointed to the far basin where a group of men appeared to be in heated discussions.
‘Yes, arguing his point, as usual. Quite convincing aren’t they. They’re just taking some scene shots with the doubles. They’re almost finished. The actors arrive next week.’
‘Oh, clever. And, the women?’ Evie sipped her drink.
‘Oh, the workers we’ll just take footage of for now. They don’t have lines. Samantha has found some superb ground we can work on for digging and channelling.’ Ben smiled, scratching his head. ‘So, I look forward to discovering what you can come up with.’
Evie found herself picturing in her mind a young woman leading a work team, and Mr Pierre-Paul Riquet catching his breath at her animation as she explains some simple solution to his problem.
‘So am I. I have so many questions in my head right now,’ she told him.
‘Brilliant. I just hope your findings don’t knock my script out of joint. I’m now convinced another character could add to it. Let’s wait and see, shall we?’
Evie couldn’t help but stare; his eyes glistened with passion for his work with no sign of tension in his jaw like before… and that beautiful mouth. She had to wonder at his calmness being a film director, he certainly knew how to delegate and trust his team, in comparison to Seb – who was afraid to relinquish his dominance and control and wouldn’t allow anyone to make decisions or overrule his say, unless it was something that was fun and suited him of course. No, Ben, it seemed, invited input from his team, and sought to add others’ creativity. She admired that quality in him, she had never met a man so good looking and so considerate, with enthusiasm so contagious. Each individual in his team showed willing and respect. She could almost hear his mind ticking as he perused his team at work. His attention flashed to Charlotte.
‘And how is your little helper, your research assistant?’
Unprepared for the snap question, Evie took in a breath. ‘Looking forward to a trip to the library, aren’t you Charlotte? She adores books.’
‘Classics, or a good thriller?’
Evie laughed. ‘Sit her with a pile of books and she’ll sit forever.’
‘Were you like that as a child?’
‘Totally. Books were my sanctuary. My sister excelled at maths which only amplified my inadequacies and sent me nose-diving into a book. What about you?’
Ben’s chin lowered to his chest. He tightened his lips, shaking his head. ‘I made every excuse not to read. I’m dyslexic and a slow reader. They thought I was lazy. Reading and writing was a miserable experience, until luckily a teacher recognised it and was able to suggest some strategies. My older sisters helped me greatly with those at home too, much to the disgust of my brother. I was getting all the attention, which built up resentment and it took him years to get over it. And it took me years to get over his tormenting. I had these weird glasses for a while and you can imagine how much mileage he got taking the piss out of me with those. But, I used to make up stories in my head and make storyboards, got used to visualising and etching out the stories I suppose, which evolved into using my dad’s video camera and making films. That was my way of dealing with my shortcomings.’
Evie felt touched that he could reveal so much of himself, an admiration surfaced in her. ‘I’ve heard dyslexics are very gifted and can be highly creative, particularly being able to see things in three dimension. That’s probably why you’re good with film.’
‘Apparently. It could just be that we’ve had to find another way but yes, I’ve heard we compensate in other ways. I tend not to dwell on it now. I still read and write slower than the average person, but there’s nothing wrong with my comprehension and I’ve probably landed a far more satisfying career than a lot of those guys who mocked me. Well, when I say landed, I’ve grafted and pushed myself through some gruelling, and at times uncomfortable, situations to make it happen – but I’ve focused on what works for me.’ He poured the remainder of the amber liquid down his throat.
Gazing at him