Rafael was trying to unravel the mess in his company. He sounded exhausted on the phone. She didn’t have the heart to pester him. So she just let him slip away and waited until the next lull when she could do the same.
‘So what could have caused the city to sink?’ asked the willowy presenter, balanced on the ridiculous stool opposite Ari, in the studio, while a screen behind them showed the view from Castelmeur. Why they couldn’t have just done the interview there, Ari didn’t know. Their hair, maybe? Or the stools?
‘We really don’t know. That’s one of the problems with archaeological finds. They need to be studied and that takes time. The university will issue findings.’ She forced herself to ignore the camera, like Jason had told her, and direct her attention to the interviewer, just as if she was teaching a class. ‘I think…that is, we think…there was a volcanic eruption in Iceland around 536. Cassiodorus wrote about it, so did Procopius.’
The presenter winced, off camera, of course. Maybe they’d cut that statement out. Keep it simple, they’d told her.
Ari ploughed on. ‘The ash cloud blocked out the sun and the ensuing winter caused famine and was seen as heralding the end of the world. There are theories it might have been a comet or a meteorite. We’ll never know. But whatever it was, if it hit the water, it could have caused a tsunami. Tsunamis build over distance and only stop when they hit land.’
Behind her, someone brought up a map of the north Atlantic, little dots marking the locations as arranged. Ari smiled. That had worked, at least. There had been a long debate and Jason had called someone or other an idiot. That might be another reason why she was here right now.
‘If Ys, or the settlement at Castelmeur which became known as Ys, was in the direct path of a mega-tsunami coming right across the Atlantic, it wouldn’t have stood a chance. In the story, the sea gates were left open. If the later maps are even vaguely accurate, a big enough wave would have swept right over the city whether the gates were open or not. And it would have been big. The damage a tsunami can do is catastrophic, as we know from the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 or the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami in 2011, which almost caused a meltdown at Fukushima nuclear reactor.’
Somewhere, a phone went off,herphone, she realised, and swore under her breath. She should have turned it off, or at least put it on silent.
‘Cut,’ someone yelled from somewhere unseen, another part of the studio.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, embarrassed.
‘Not at all,’ the presenter – Wendy, she seemed to remember – said. ‘Why don’t we take a quick break and get back to it? I want to take a look at that map again. There’s got to be a way to make this more viewer-friendly.’
Ari fished out her phone as everyone wandered away.
Rafael’s name. No picture. She’d never taken a picture. Just his name in stark white letters on her screen with ‘missed call’ beside it. Several missed calls actually. She muted it and shoved it back into her pocket.
Ari chewed on the inside of her cheek and tried to push thoughts of him from her mind. He had no place here. She was pretty sure he didn’t want to see her. Not after what had happened. And she wouldn’t be here much longer. She wouldn’t even be in France. She needed to focus and—
‘We’re going to need more location shots,’ Wendy was saying as she came back. ‘Preferably with you, Ari. I think this description might work better on site, don’t you? Would tomorrow suit? I can arrange the cars now. It’s a bit of a long haul down there, but I think it will be worth it. We’ll put you up somewhere, of course.’
She didn’t mention the gîte. She didn’t want to imagine poor Wendy’s face if she realised people lived like that.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Jason? He’s much more natural at this and he’s already there.’
Wendy smiled, understanding. ‘He’s diving with another team tomorrow. I did check. Besides, you’re as much the story here. Our very own Lara Croft.’
Ari glanced down at the peacock-blue blouse. That was not veryTomb Raider. ‘Yeah, I’m not very comfortable with that.’
‘Nonsense, you’re a natural,’ came another voice from the darkness by the doorway. One which sent every hair on her body upright and made the air leave her body in a rush.
Rafael.
What on earth was he doing here? Why was he ringing her phone if he was here?
He stepped out into the light and he had never looked better to her. Just for a moment, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to breathe.
‘Monsieur du Lac!’ Wendy almost did a dance when she saw him. In an instant, she was transformed to her flirty, sexy TV persona. ‘Oh, how wonderful. You got our invitation. I have been dying to interview you about this marvellous discovery, but your people never got back to me. I know you’ve been so busy, but I’d doanythingto accommodate you.’
Rafael’s jaw tightened and he got that deer in the headlights look that Ari was beginning to recognise as a logical reaction to Wendy and her team. He was, as many people had pointed out to her in the last couple of weeks, one of France’s most eligible men, known for his beautiful girlfriends and his smouldering glare.
The glare was having completely the opposite effect on Wendy than the one he intended. And he looked even more annoyed by that. And uncomfortable.
For a moment, Ari just enjoyed it. She couldn’t help herself. Then she stepped in to rescue him.
‘Monsieur du Lac and I need to discuss a few matters, Wendy. Relating to the find. It is his property we’re planning to invade, after all. I hope you don’t mind.’
The relief on his face made her heart stutter inside her, but she tried to ignore it. The look she sent Wendy might have been pleading. She couldn’t talk to him out here where anyone could be watching them. Or worse, recording them.
Wendy looked more than a bit chagrined, but she relented graciously. If she wanted Rafael in her show, she was clearly willing to be magnanimous. ‘Oh, of course, of course, you can use my dressing room. It’s quite private.’
