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Authors: S F Hopkins
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when a woman sleeps with her boss to get promoted ahead of her husband.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Alice said. ‘I didn’t realize that’s what had happened.’
‘She is in Washington. The prime posting for any journalist.’
‘After Paris, surely.’
Michel glared at her, almost—but not quite—sure that she was pulling his leg. ‘And I—I am in London. Not even a secondary posting. Rome would have been better. Even Berlin!’
‘That’s really not very flattering.’ The interruption had come from a tall, solidly built man with dark, curly hair. Alice turned to look at him.
He held out his hand. ‘Tony Frejus. There is only one problem I have with you British, and that is the way you laugh when others insult you.’ He glanced at Michel. ‘Especially French others.’
‘You think that, do you?’ asked Michel. ‘You have perhaps not understood that they laugh because they do not care what others think. And they call the French arrogant! Pah.’ This was presented in a theatrical manner that invited them to think he was being humorous, while knowing that he might not be. Alice was beginning to realize that it was impossible to take Michel at face value.
She tuned to the newcomer. ‘And what nationality are you?’
‘I am Bolivian.’
Alice wondered whether Tony Frejus had failed to notice the slight but unmistakable contempt in the way Michel lifted his eyebrows at this statement. She knew that, for a Frenchman like Michel, only La France really signified. Italy and Germany had some geographical importance. Washington and New York were too powerful and too rich to be ignored. Other than that, the further a place was from the Quai d’Orsay the less it mattered.
‘How far is La Paz from Paris?’ she asked.
Tony Frejus looked puzzled by the question, but the slight amusement that touched Michel LeGrand’s lips showed that he had read her thoughts. He tipped his glass of mineral water towards her in silent acknowledgement of the hit. Then he turned his back on the other man in what Alice found a stunningly rude manner and placed a hand on Alice’s arm. ‘Have you walked through the Lanes on a warm summer evening?’
‘I don’t believe I have.’
‘It’s an experience. Not Honfleur, of course, but…’
‘What?’
‘I said it is not…but what is it? You look as though you have seen a ghost.’
A pit of terror seemed to have opened before Alice’s eyes. ‘What did you mean, not Honfleur?’
She scanned the Frenchman’s face closely. His expression showed only baffled concern. But was that true?
‘Why, I meant simply what I said. Do you know Honfleur?’
Unable to trust herself to speak, Alice nodded.
‘Then you must know it is the most delightful seaside town in Europe. So Brighton cannot be. But we are not there. We are here. So we shall let this suffice.’
He held out his arm and Alice, scarce knowing what she was doing, took it and walked out of the apartment, completely unaware of the disappointment with which Tony Frejus watched her go.
Chapter 11
I t was two days since John had collected Charles and delivered him to the Rio Atlantica. Insisting on a hotel right on Copacabana beach and then confining his swimming to the admittedly opulent rooftop pool was endearingly typical of the Chairman. He wanted to be where people said you should be, but he wanted also to stay well away from the famous beach’s equally famous muggers.
Charles’s oceanfront suite had a large balcony from which the two men enjoyed stupendous views of Sugar Loaf Mountain to the north and the Ipanema headland to the south. A waiter in a starched linen jacket was serving mounds of seafood and salad onto two plates; another poured chilled Chablis into heavy crystal glasses. John had tried to persuade Charles to join him on a trip to one of the justly famous restaurants in Leme or Copacabana itself, but without success. As a young man building his company, Charles was said to have been audacious and
‘I’m sorry,’ Alice said. ‘I didn’t realize that’s what had happened.’
‘She is in Washington. The prime posting for any journalist.’
‘After Paris, surely.’
Michel glared at her, almost—but not quite—sure that she was pulling his leg. ‘And I—I am in London. Not even a secondary posting. Rome would have been better. Even Berlin!’
‘That’s really not very flattering.’ The interruption had come from a tall, solidly built man with dark, curly hair. Alice turned to look at him.
He held out his hand. ‘Tony Frejus. There is only one problem I have with you British, and that is the way you laugh when others insult you.’ He glanced at Michel. ‘Especially French others.’
‘You think that, do you?’ asked Michel. ‘You have perhaps not understood that they laugh because they do not care what others think. And they call the French arrogant! Pah.’ This was presented in a theatrical manner that invited them to think he was being humorous, while knowing that he might not be. Alice was beginning to realize that it was impossible to take Michel at face value.
She tuned to the newcomer. ‘And what nationality are you?’
‘I am Bolivian.’
Alice wondered whether Tony Frejus had failed to notice the slight but unmistakable contempt in the way Michel lifted his eyebrows at this statement. She knew that, for a Frenchman like Michel, only La France really signified. Italy and Germany had some geographical importance. Washington and New York were too powerful and too rich to be ignored. Other than that, the further a place was from the Quai d’Orsay the less it mattered.
‘How far is La Paz from Paris?’ she asked.
Tony Frejus looked puzzled by the question, but the slight amusement that touched Michel LeGrand’s lips showed that he had read her thoughts. He tipped his glass of mineral water towards her in silent acknowledgement of the hit. Then he turned his back on the other man in what Alice found a stunningly rude manner and placed a hand on Alice’s arm. ‘Have you walked through the Lanes on a warm summer evening?’
‘I don’t believe I have.’
‘It’s an experience. Not Honfleur, of course, but…’
‘What?’
‘I said it is not…but what is it? You look as though you have seen a ghost.’
A pit of terror seemed to have opened before Alice’s eyes. ‘What did you mean, not Honfleur?’
She scanned the Frenchman’s face closely. His expression showed only baffled concern. But was that true?
‘Why, I meant simply what I said. Do you know Honfleur?’
Unable to trust herself to speak, Alice nodded.
‘Then you must know it is the most delightful seaside town in Europe. So Brighton cannot be. But we are not there. We are here. So we shall let this suffice.’
He held out his arm and Alice, scarce knowing what she was doing, took it and walked out of the apartment, completely unaware of the disappointment with which Tony Frejus watched her go.
Chapter 11
I t was two days since John had collected Charles and delivered him to the Rio Atlantica. Insisting on a hotel right on Copacabana beach and then confining his swimming to the admittedly opulent rooftop pool was endearingly typical of the Chairman. He wanted to be where people said you should be, but he wanted also to stay well away from the famous beach’s equally famous muggers.
Charles’s oceanfront suite had a large balcony from which the two men enjoyed stupendous views of Sugar Loaf Mountain to the north and the Ipanema headland to the south. A waiter in a starched linen jacket was serving mounds of seafood and salad onto two plates; another poured chilled Chablis into heavy crystal glasses. John had tried to persuade Charles to join him on a trip to one of the justly famous restaurants in Leme or Copacabana itself, but without success. As a young man building his company, Charles was said to have been audacious and
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