Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,15
on there?”
“Nothing, mum.” He struggled to disentangle himself from Sidney’s arm and stand up. “It’s nothing, really.”
Sidney grabbed his wrist. “And I don’t know anything about what that man took. I’m innocent. You have to believe me.”
“Piers! What is happening? Have you fallen in with a bad crowd?”
“No, mum, no. It’s … it’s … it’s the TV. Oh shit, no, not the TV, it’s not the TV.”
“Piers! Mind your language, please. What on earth has gotten into you?”
A middle-aged man in a jacket walked down the steps staring at Piers. Piers turned away from his gaze. “Mum. I wasn’t trying … I was just … It was …”
Sidney’s sobs reached a crescendo. “Please, please. What have I done to deserve this? Why are they doing this to me?”
Piers shook off Sidney’s grip. “I don’t know-“
She grabbed his leg. “Don’t leave me to them. I don’t know what that man stole, or why they’re following us.”
Piers shook his leg. “Let go, will you.”
“Piers! What an earth is happening? Who is there with you?”
Piers turned to see the middle-aged man kneeling at Sidney’s side. “Can I help you, my dear?” She turned her sobs to him.
“Mum, I have to go. I’ll … I mean we can talk later.”
“Is this man hurting you?” said the middle-aged man.
Piers covered his phone’s mouthpiece and glowered at the man. “I am not hurting her.”
Sidney’s sobs renewed in vigor and she grabbed the man’s arm.
“Piers, we need to talk. If you’re getting yourself mixed up in something, your father and I need to know about it.”
“Mum. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Piers! Don’t you hang up on me!”
Sidney wailed.
The middle-aged man took hold of Sidney’s arm. “Is this man abusing you?”
With a “Bye, mum,” Piers mashed the off button, and wiped his brow.
Sidney shook the man’s shoulder as she sobbed on.
The middle-aged man took her hand and tried to steady her. “Are you all right, mademoiselle? Is this man hurting you?”
Sidney shook her head. “No. Not him. Over there.” She pointed across the road.
The middle-aged man looked at an empty wall across the street. “What’s over there?”
“Them.” Sidney looked up and down the road. “Oh, damn.”
“Mademoiselle?”
“They were over there.”
The man looked along the road. “Who was?”
Piers bent down. “It’s okay, sir. We’re okay.”
Sidney shook Piers’ arm. “They’ve gone.”
“I know.”
She blew her nose.
The man took her hand again. “Mademoiselle, are you all right?”
Sidney took a deep breath, swallowed, and her sobs evaporated. She put her hands on the man’s arm and took a deep breath. “Oh, yes. Thank you for your help. Yes, you’ve been a wonder.”
“Really?” His eyebrows crunched together so close they almost touched.
Sidney smiled, the full thousand watts.
The man blushed and eased to his feet. “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll be going then.”
She smiled, and the man took to the steps, a definite spring in his stride. At the bottom he turned to look back up. Sidney waved and he returned the gesture, a broad but quizzical grin on his face.
“I think he’s going to start skipping,” said Piers.
“He was a very nice man,” said Sidney.
The group of women on the steps lost interest in Sidney and resumed their gossip.
“You faked all that,” Piers said.
“All what?”
“All that. The tears, the wailing, the performance.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“Well, you were faking it talking to your mum.” She wriggled her head as she emphasized “mum.”
“I had to. I don’t want her to worry.”
“Don’t want her to worry, yet you mention the TV?”
“I didn’t think—”
“I told you that before.”
“What before?”
“You don’t think.”
“Whatever. So what were all the tears for?”
“I thought they might be sympathetic.”
Piers stared at her. “Who?”
“Little and Large.”
“Sympathetic? They’re … they’re hit men. They not going to go back to their boss and say they let us go because you were crying.”
“You really think they’re hit men?”
Piers shrugged. “Perhaps not the best, but probably.”
She sank back down and sat on the steps. “Merde. So, if we go to the police, they’ll kill us.”
Piers sat down beside her. “Maybe.”
“Bloody definitely, more like.” Sidney took a deep breath. “So what can we do?”
Piers shrugged. “Find whatever Auguste stole from them, I suppose.”
“Merde.”
“Yeah, truly merde.”
Chapter 9
Piers waited while Sidney fussed over her appearance in the reflection of a shop window’s glass. “God, I look awful.”
She turned and looked at Piers. Her hair was a mess, and her face was puffy from crying, but her eyes shone and her lips formed a wide line that bordered on a smile.
He smiled. “No, really, no … you look nice.”
She looked back into