Freya North 3-Book Collection: Cat, Fen, Pip. Freya North

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СКАЧАТЬ gift, his aim in life. He looked up at Ben and rose. ‘Sure thing, Doc. You’re right. I’ll ride as I should. I’ll lead the guys home.’

      Hunter Dean, Ben marvelled as he tweaked the peak of the rider’s logoed baseball cap, when you hang up your pedals you can slip straight into Congress. Or Hollywood. You’re a star.

      Ben went in search of Didier LeDucq. Luca said he’d seen him heading off towards the toilets. Luca looked at his feet. Then Luca told the doctor he’d heard the French rider throwing up before breakfast. Then he looked down at the doctor’s feet. When his doctor ventured off to track down his ailing equipeur, Luca winced.

      If I felt shit, but I wanted to race, would I want my doctor to know? If I felt shit but I wanted to race, would I tell my team-mates? If I’d thrown up and chosen not to tell my teammates, would I want them to dob me to the doctor behind my back? Fuck me. I’m a jerk. I’ll go find Didier – before Ben. Oh. But not before I have a quick chat with my journaliste.

      ‘Gatto!’

      Cat turned, wondering who was crying for cake. Luca walked towards her.

      ‘I’m calling you Gatto,’ he declared, kissing her somewhat startled cheeks once apiece. ‘I’m basically bilingual but Gatto is Italian for cat.’

      ‘Oh,’ Cat nodded, her eyes caught by the tan line on the rider’s arm, revealed by his jersey sleeve being a little bunched up. Seeing the glimpse of pale skin created similar maternal affection in her as witnessing the riders tottering in their cycling shoes.

       I want to straighten his sleeve for him.

      Go on then, no doubt he’d love you to.

       Don’t be ridiculous.

      ‘I like pussy,’ Luca said, regarding her directly. Cat jolted and any feelings of maternal affection were swiftly replaced by consternation. She tipped her head to one side, hoping she was regarding the rider in a suitably stern way.

      ‘Is that a quote for me?’ she asked, matter of fact and tongue in cheek.

      ‘I mean,’ Luca said ingenuously, frowning for good measure, ‘I like “pussy” – but “gatto” is better. Italian is a beautiful language. Italian is really my mama tongue. I just speak English also.’

      ‘You could just call me Cat,’ the journalist suggested, ‘it’s simple English.’

      ‘No no no,’ the rider said emphatically, ‘I want a special name for you.’ Luca narrowed his eyes, straightened his shoulders and poked Cat gently in the stomach. ‘Last night, how come you didn’t want me?’

      Cat clasped her hand against her mouth. The gesture was immediate and honest. She had indeed completely forgotten, having wrapped herself in her insecurity blanket just as soon as she’d reached her room. Luca grinned outwardly, felt appeased inwardly and was suddenly keen to find Hunter, to restore the American’s belief in Luca’s irresistibility.

      ‘I was knackered,’ Cat said apologetically whilst reprimanding herself. Unprofessional. Stupid. A wasted opportunity.

      ‘You were shagged,’ Luca elaborated very seriously. Again Cat jolted. Luca was a little alarmed. ‘It’s a good English expression – very, very tired. Right? Poor pussy Cat,’ he continued, ‘let me give it to you later. I want to.’

      ‘What?’ the journalist exclaimed quietly, her eyes skittering all over the rider’s face.

      ‘You come and see me – we’ll have a good long one,’ Luca shrugged, wondering why Cat continued to look less than ecstatic.

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘We’ll go somewhere quiet,’ Luca said openly, ‘and I’ll give it to you there. You staying in Chardin tonight? I don’t know where the fuck the team are staying. You find me. You call me. We’ll take it from there.’

      Cat stood and stared at the rider.

      ‘You want it – don’t you?’ he asked.

      Though she was listening hard, Cat could not hear any lascivious undertone lacing what appeared to be genuine concern.

      ‘Come after dinner,’ Luca said, ‘I do it better on a full stomach. Ciao, Gatto.’ He walked away from her, turning his attention to Didier’s whereabouts.

      Alex walked up to Josh, who was talking to Ben and Didier at the Coeur de Lion marquee in the village. Didier ambled a few strides away to his bike and cycled off slowly, through the village and back to the team van, via an undisclosed visit to the toilets. Josh had got to the rider before Ben had and now the rider had left before Ben had him alone.

      ‘He says he feels strong,’ Josh said, looking at his notepad. He looked at Ben. ‘He looks like shit.’

      ‘Who are we talking about?’ said Alex, now joining them.

      ‘LeDucq,’ said Josh.

      ‘He always looks crap,’ Alex said, laughing, ‘he should get rid of his stupid pony-tail. I’m going over to catch Max.’ Ben and Josh watched Alex join a small posse of journalists surrounding the ever popular Max Sciandri. Neither of them could see Cat amongst them. They turned their attention back to each other and the absent LeDucq.

      ‘I’m his doctor,’ said Ben, remembering he was talking to a journalist. ‘He’s fine – if he isn’t, I’ll know about it. That’s my job.’

      ‘It’s going to be hot today, I reckon,’ said Josh, still thinking LeDucq looked awful. Ben nodded. The men looked at the sky and noted the very few, high clouds that were there.

      ‘It’s bizarre, isn’t it?’ the doctor said. ‘Talking about the weather is never idle chit chat here at the Tour.’

      Josh laughed and nodded. A bell rang. The VIPs started to gather together, leaving the village to be transported along the route to hospitality at the arrivée, wined and dined with elaborate packed lunches on the way in cars invariably driven by ex-Tour racers.

      ‘I think we’re staying at the same hotel tonight,’ Josh said.

      ‘Great,’ said Ben, ‘maybe we’ll have a few beers later.’

      ‘Providing Sassetta behaves,’ Josh reasoned. ‘Zucca are staying there too.’

      ‘There’s your colleague,’ Ben said, nodding towards Cat who had just appeared in the village, making her way straight to a booth and taking a long drink of juice. ‘Is she staying with you?’

      ‘Cat?’ Josh replied, glancing in her direction. ‘Yeah, she is, all the way. I didn’t know her before – shit, I’ve actually only known her a week. But she’s OK, she really is.’

      ‘Yes, she is. Her work’s good too,’ said Ben, flashing the Guardian as emphasis.

      ‘Yup,’ said Josh, ‘it’s great to have her on board.’

      ‘Makes a change,’ Ben said, his eyes not having left her.

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