Page 66 of For Love or Money
‘And not waters.’
‘We get it, thanks,’ Lesley said. ‘We know what you dip where.’
Scott laughed, scrunching up the muffin wrapper and tossing it in the centre of the table.
Al glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better go to the gate.’
21
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when they arrived in Nice, and Lesley felt her whole body decompress as soon as they stepped outside and the heat wrapped itself around her. She quickly relaxed into holiday mode as they piled into a taxi and bowled towards the centre of Nice. Looking out the window at the spiky palm trees framed against the inky sky, she thought smugly of the heavy grey clouds she’d left behind in Dublin, and felt very pleased with herself for taking Al up on his unorthodox offer. She’d taken a bit of a chance, and it had paid off big-time.
‘Have you seen TV’s Mr Darcy recently?’ Scott asked Al.
‘No. He was in Dublin last week, but I didn’t see him. He had dinner with your dad and Stella.’
‘He has news, apparently,’ Scott said broodingly. ‘You don’t know what it is?’
‘No.’ Al shook his head. ‘No idea.’
‘It had better not be that they’re making him the next Batman, or I’ll shoot myself.’
Al laughed. ‘Or James Bond,’ he said. ‘That’d be worse.’
Scott groaned, clutching his hair. ‘Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that. Bloody Darcy was bad enough.’ He gazed out the window disconsolately. ‘Do you really think he could be in the running for James Bond, though? Isn’t he a bit old?’ he asked, turning to Al. ‘I mean, they’d want to get a few movies out of him.’
Al shrugged. ‘He’s only thirty-three. Roger Moore was way older when he started.’
‘Too Irish, then?’
‘Pierce Brosnan,’ Al and Lesley said together, and laughed.
‘And his English accent is brilliant,’ Lesley pointed out. ‘You’d never have known he was Irish inPride and Prejudice.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Scott scowled at her.
‘Oh. I didn’t know there were sides. Sorry.’
‘I mean, how comeInever get asked to play Darcy?’ Scott said peevishly.
Lesley glanced across at him. ‘Too short?’ she said tentatively. She didn’t want to offend him, but it seemed pretty obvious to her.
‘Exactly,’ Scott said. ‘It’s discrimination! Casting directors have no bloody imagination. I can totally play tall.’
In the centre of town, they turned away from the coast road and curved up a steep, tree-lined hill. They stopped on a quiet, leafy street in front of a set of wrought-iron gates set in a yellow ochre wall. A riot of deep-pink bougainvillea cascaded over the top, almost obscuring the keypad and a little plaque beside it that read ‘Villa Aurore’.
Al paid the driver, and he and Scott took the bags between them as they were unloaded from the boot. Scott punched in a code and the gates opened to reveal a house that practically screamed summer, with sky-blue shutters at the windows and walls painted a sunny yellow.
A short middle-aged woman with cropped grey hair came around from the back of the house as they got to the door. She beamed warmly at them, throwing her arms open and hugging Al and Scott in turn.
‘Lesley, this is my stepmum, Joy,’ Al said, his eyes warm with pride and affection.
‘Lovely to meet you, Lesley,’ Joy said, as she led the way into the house. She had a kind, intelligent face and a sweet smile. ‘Have you been to Nice before?’
‘No, it’s my first time.’
‘Where is everyone?’ Scott asked, dropping the bags in the hallway.
‘Stella’s gone into town. Michael and I are out by the pool with Jane, and TV’s Mr Darcy is in the study with your father. He said he had some “business” to discuss,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Another lecture about family responsibilities, I suspect.’
