Page 35 of The Riviera House Swap

‘Yes, but…’

‘Antoine,’ he said, indicating the badge on his shirt, as if she’d expect him to prove his identity. ‘You are staying at my brother’s house?’

Her confusion melted away as she recognised the man who’d shown her the house the previous day. Dressed in his work attire, he’d looked both familiar and different at once.

‘Oh, yes. Of course,’ she said.

‘And you are hurt?’ he said, concerned.

‘Oh, no. Not really,’ she lied, reaching to pull the shoe back onto her foot. As she did so, her phone slid from her lap and hit the pavement with a sickening crack. She picked it up, to see the screen had become a spiderweb of shattered glass. ‘Oh no!’ she said, thinking of the expense. Then ‘Oh, bugger,’ she added, remembering she’d been about to order what was probably a life-saving taxi.

‘Mince!I am sorry,’ Antoine said, looking at the broken phone in her hand.

‘It’s not your fault,’ she said, horrified to realise there were tears pricking at her eyes.It is only a phone, she tried to tell herself sternly.And it is only a blister. And I am only thirty minutes from Jean-Luc’s. But it was no use. A tell-tale tear ran down her cheek and she rubbed it away, annoyed to have let her guard slip.

‘Can I help you?’ he said. ‘Do you need to make a call?’ He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at her expectantly.

‘Oh,’ she said, looking at her phone. ‘It might still work, but well, if you don’t mind. Perhaps. I was about to call a taxi. I’m know Jean-Luc’s isn’t far, but…’ she gestured to her foot and grimaced.

‘Oh, but there is no need!’ he said, breaking into a smile. ‘I can take you!’

She looked at him, at his badge, at his earnest face. You weren’t meant to get into cars with strange men, were you? But then he wasn’t strictly a stranger.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’ He disappeared at a trot.

The air had warmed slightly, or perhaps she was just warmer from exertion; either way, it felt quite pleasant to be sitting on a bench in the autumn sunshine knowing that she was waiting for a car to pull up and take her home; that she wouldn’t haveto walk on her sore foot any more and could consign her ruined sandals to the bin when she got back. She watched people move past, some hurried, most strolling; noticed a flock of birds making shapes in the sky as they moved and gathered and grouped for a flight to even warmer climes.

She was still smiling when she turned her head and saw Antoine again – wheeling what looked to be a heavy, black pushbike. Her face dropped. His remained resolutely upbeat.

‘But this is…’ she said, indicating the bike… ‘A bike?’

‘Yes, a bike,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, it is electric and it has enough space for two.’ He indicated the rather small seat which could probably manage to accommodate two rather modest bottoms and she eyed it dubiously.

‘It is fine,’ he said. ‘I have given my sister and my friends many rides.’ He handed her what looked like a flimsy bike helmet.

Not quite knowing how to refuse in the face of his beaming positivity, she took the helmet and fastened it as best she could on her head. Antoine stepped onto the bike and indicated the tiny space behind him. Carefully manoeuvring to ensure she didn’t flash her knickers, she lifted her leg and climbed on behind him, feeling embarrassed as he guided her hands around his waist.

‘Hang on, haven’t you got a helmet for yourself?’ she asked.

‘I will be fine,’ he said. ‘I’m very experienced.’

It wasn’t particularly reassuring. But before she could say anything else, he flipped the bike’s stand and with a ‘Hold on tight!’, began pedalling precariously onto the walkway then further on to the road.

Despite the bike’s electric capabilities, Antoine seemed up for a challenge and elected not to put on the power. Instead, he pedalled furiously, puffing his cheeks out with effort and guiding them along the rather bumpy, smaller roads towards her holidayhouse. Finally, just as the bike began to wobble on a slight incline and she was about to tap him on the shoulder, he pressed something with his foot and a tiny motor kicked in.

The power was similar to that of a milk float, and the bike buzzed loudly under its heavy load as they negotiated the streets. She found herself clinging on to Antoine more and more tightly as they rounded corners and made their way over drain covers. Her foot had ceased to hurt, but she was pretty sure she was going to have to soak her bottom in a warm bath later if she wanted to sit down on this holiday again.

Finally, she began to recognise small elements of her surroundings, until at last, she saw Sabine’s dented VW parked up on the roadside and breathed a sigh of relief.

Antoine drew up to the kerb and switched off the engine, leaning his leg against the pavement to keep the bike steady as she clambered off, almost falling. ‘Voila!’ he said proudly.

‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to resist the urge to put her hand on her bum and inspect the damage. ‘Do you want to come in for a drink or…?’

But he was staring at the van. ‘Sabine is here?’ he asked, seeming incredulous.

‘Yes. Sorry, I assumed she’d have told you.’

---