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Edie
October 1, the morning of Ace’s birthday. Four days had passed since the arrival of the French television vans, followed soon after by a hoard who’d been camped by the gates ever since. In the early hours of the morning Storm Alex had well and truly landed on the Brittany coast and was wreaking havoc as it slowly tracked southwards.
Edie was in her room, curtains drawn as instructed, and had pulled out her case, wincing now and then when a gust of wind launched a piece of debris at the windows, Storm Alex screeching like a banshee as it circled the house.
It was becoming claustrophobic, being cooped up inside or confined to the yard. Joe prowled the cobbles like a restless animal, the dogs at his heels sensing their master’s mood. Even when the rain that preceded the storm began to fall, Joe donned a waterproof jacket and paced, smoked, sat inside the barn, then paced and smoked again. But at least he hadn’t hit the bottle or slid into depression. Edie didn’t want him to get like that.
From the moment the television crews arrived, Joe’s reputation and everything he’d worked for began to spiral out of control. He’d insisted on being told everything and wanted updates from Oliver in London, including feedback from the fan pages on all social media platforms and online newspapers. And most of it was awful. Thousands of condemning tweets and posts, disgust and disappointment, resolutions never to listen to another NorthStar track ever again tempered by the die-hard fans who believed in innocence until proven guilty.
As much as Gus told Joe not to look, he couldn’t help himself. It made her think of a candy-striped helter-skelter and him sliding downwards then even though he got off, and never wanted to ride it again, he had to climb the stairs and do it over and over.
In some ways that’s what it was like for all of them because no matter how much anyone attempted to lighten the mood, or not to snap or snipe when things got tense, there was a constant undercurrent of anger. Edie could feel it and she wasn’t sure whether it was towards Gina, author of the book and the film-makers, the press, Denny or even worse, Joe.
One thing she did know, just by looking at the depleted man who had barely eaten and slept, was that he was the angriest person in the whole world right now. And she suspected that the person he blamed the most, was himself.
The previous evening, by the time they turned in, Edie and Ace were exhausted from it all, but still couldn’t sleep and had lain awake most of the night, listening to the storm which mercilessly battered the exposed cliffside walls of La Babinais.
Wrapped inside Ace’s arms with the duvet pulled up tight, Edie imagined the carnage outside as pellets of rain pounded the windows. ‘You know what the sound of the wind reminds me of?’ She closed her eyes and could see it so clearly. ‘One of the ghosts on Scooby-Doo. Do you remember how they’d always be the same, like a big white sheet with black eyes and a gaping mouth, and flapping arms? Well, that’s what I think the wind is like. Loads and loads of them racing around and around the house in the dark.’
Ace held her closer, and she could tell from his voice he was smiling. ‘Well please don’t ever share that delightful memory with our seven children because it’s a really scary image.’
Edie laughed, and it was probably the first time she’d done so all day. ‘I suppose you have a point.’
‘You know what it reminds me of?’
‘Something less worrying, I hope.’
Ace was really laughing now. ‘No, it’s worse.’
‘Oh-oh.’
‘Shush, listen. When I was about ten, I was at Charles’ house and his nutty old mémère was babysitting and told us the most terrifying story, well, it was back then. She said that when she was little her family lived on a farm further inland and the night her brother died, she and her sister were in bed when they heard the sound of horses’ hooves approaching. They clung together, petrified, and listened as the horses galloped round and round the house.’
‘Who were they?’ Edie had wiggled further under the covers, not that sure if she wanted to know.
Ace replied, his voice hushed. ‘They were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.’
‘Oh, dear Lord.’
‘And it got worse, because then they heard more hooves and the sound of carriage wheels on the stones as it pulled outside the house.’
‘Who was it?’
‘She said it was the Grim Reaper come to claim her brother’s soul. At the very same time they heard a wail from their mother’s bedroom and the sisters knew straight away that their brother was gone. There was lots of crying and then the carriage left, followed by the Horsemen. I can tell you, after hearing that I lived in fear of hearing horses’ hooves outside at night. Even now, if Eey and Ore escaped from their field tonight and ran into the yard I think I would die of fright.’
Edie scrunched her eyes tight, knowing she would too. ‘Well thanks so much for telling me that really jolly story before I go to sleep. I thought the Scooby-Doo ghosts were bad but that’s bloody ridiculous. We are going to make terrible parents if we tell our kids stories like that.’
Ace turned on his side and when she opened her eyes could see he was laughing at her. Then he made a suggestion. ‘Well, I do know a really good way to take your mind off ghosts and scary horsemen, and we can practise making babies at the same time…’
Unzipping her case, wincing as a clap of thunder sounded overhead, she removed Ace’s card and present, all wrapped and ready to go. Even though his birthday had been designated a non-event on the instructions of Ace himself, Edie still wanted to make a fuss of him. He wouldn’t be seeing any of his friends that day and to make matters worse, Jenny was forbidden to leave the house, meaning she couldn’t head into Brest to buy him a gift and that hadn’t gone down well at all.
She’d even summoned Pierre to the house where she came up with many crazy schemes to escape La Babinais without being seen but he’d stood firm, wanting to avoid a press frenzy at the gates and the guys on motorbikes from pursuing her. He did give her one option, delivered in such a deadpan way that Nanou fell for it, although it didn’t amuse Jenny one bit. It seemed the only way she was getting away from La Babinais was by abseiling down the cliff, or if she fancied her chances hang-gliding and he was sure one of his team would lend her all the kit. At least it had made Ace and Lance laugh, and once she realised Pierre was kidding, Nanou gave him a flick with her spatula. That woman feared no one.
Edie, who had taken an instant dislike to ‘the saint’ should have felt inordinately smug about having already bought Ace a gift, a beautiful handmade photo album that she hoped they could fill together with memories from their trip. That was if it ever happened. Instead, she felt bad for a mother who only wanted to buy a gift for her son. And as much as she hadn’t wanted to warm to Jenny and clung on to envy like it was sacred, her resolve was wavering, just like her haphazard and rubbish plan.
As each day passed, what had once seemed like a clear-cut and perfectly logical scheme, in which she put herself and Ace into one category and herself and Joe into another, had become blurry and she was beginning to see the flaws. Her gran for a start. At some point she would have had to confess where she was and who she was with, especially if she and Ace were going to travel together. That was epic fail number one.
Then there was the inevitable, the thing she’d told herself might not happen when deep down she knew it always would. Like when her friend Ingrid was on a diet and told everyone that this time, she was going to stick to her new regime and lose two stone when everyone knew she only ever got to Wednesday.
