He picked up the basket and she took the picnic blanket and they set off, cutting through the gardens and then veering right up the hill. Luc led her through the vines up to the top of the hill, to a wide flat plateau, enclosed by a solid wooden fence.
As he opened the gate he stopped dead. ‘I don’t believe it.’
He dropped the picnic basket and stared around at the churned-up grass, his hands on his hips as he turned a full circle surveying the centre of the paddock. Hattie felt an urge to soothe away the deep lines of uncertain, is-this-for-real confusion that marred his forehead.
‘I sprayed the H yesterday evening and I checked the weather forecast.’
He turned another 360 degrees as if hoping that things would miraculously be back the way he’d left them. Hattie studied the ground. There were isolated flecks of luminous orange paint caught in blades of grass but a large irregular patch had been raked away, leaving the surface scrubby and bare. Even she could see there was no way this would be obvious from the air.
‘Okay, we’ve got less than an hour. What can we do?’ she asked. ‘Do you have any more paint? Could we spray it on the ground?’
‘We could try but … I don’t know.’ He scuffed a foot over the uneven surface. ‘It might not take that well. I’d cut the grass to make it easier to spray.’
Hattie caught her lip between her teeth. Where there was a will there was a way. She glanced at her phone. No response to her earlier text so presumably no phones in flight. Then it came to her.
‘I know. That roll of carpet in the ballroom. What if we brought it up here and sprayed the underside?’
Luc looked at her and then grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Genius! Hattie, you’re amazing. Come on.’ He grabbed her hand and took off at a run, back the way they’d just come, pelting through the vineyards at full speed.
‘Who –’ Hattie panted, trying to speak and breathe at the same time ‘– do … you … think … did that?’
Luc just ran faster in response and she had to force herself to keep up with him.
‘Why would … they … the…’ Out of breath, she gave up asking questions and focused on breathing.
‘Here you go.’ Luc handed Hattie a glass of champagne. ‘To teamwork.’
‘Cheers,’ she said, lifting the glass and watching the bubbles fizz up to the surface in the bright morning sunshine. ‘Teamwork.’ She glanced over at the big piece of rubber-backed carpet now spread in the middle of the field, the large orange H glowing on the dark surface. ‘It looks quite professional.’
‘So it should,’ said Luc. ‘We deserve this.’
Carrying the rug had been a two-man job but they’d managed it with half an hour to spare.
He lifted his glass. ‘To your brilliant thinking.’
They tapped glasses and each took a sip.
‘That is lovely,’ said Hattie with an appreciative sigh, letting the bubbles settle on her tongue.
They were sitting on the picnic rug and she took a moment to savour the wine and the spectacular view. ‘And this is lovely.’ She gazed out across the valley, striped with the green vines which marched like determined soldiers over and across the contours of the land. Swathes of woodland crowned the distant hills with a broccoli-purple hue, bringing to mind an Impressionist painting. Sunbeams cut through the clouds, creating dappled pockets of light and shade across the patchwork of greens.
Luc took a red and white checked napkin from the basket, shook it out and laid it across her lap before handing her a delicate white plate adorned with a tiny strawberry motif. Then he produced a breadbasket containing a couple of plump brioches, a small dish of almost white butter and a cloth-capped jar of homemade jam, all of which he laid in the centre of the picnic blanket.
‘Breakfast is served,Mademoiselle.’
With a light breeze blowing through her hair and the early morning sun warming her face, Hattie couldn’t imagine being anywhere better. Suddenly her heart felt so much lighter, almost as if spring had blossomed inside her. She grinned at Luc. ‘Thank you, this is gorgeous.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said and there it was again, that little spark of something as their eyes met. Or was it just her pulse that beat faster? It was so long since she’d felt any interest in another man, she wasn’t sure if he might reciprocate.
She took a brioche and, copying Luc, carefully slathered it with the creamy unsalted butter that she’d already become used to, before adding a generous splash of the jam. At first bite the combination of butter, sweet soft brioche and the tangy sweetness of strawberry jam made her moan with sheer sybaritic pleasure. Luc watched her and then nodded his approval as he tucked into his own brioche. They ate in companionable silence and Hattie breathed in the fresh air as contentment stole over her like a soft cashmere blanket. It was almost as if she’d been trussed up in a tight corset for the last few years and now she could breathe properly, feeling her ribcage lift and expand with freedom.
‘There it is,’ said Luc, jumping to his feet, and she felt his excitement because there was always something rather glamorous about a helicopter. The dull insistent buzz grew louder and became a more discerniblewap, wap, wapof the rotor blades. Looking up, their hands shielding their eyes from the sun, they watched the helicopter come into view, directly above them. It flew in a large loop, circling the whole valley, before coming back again and gradually lowering, the tail and body swaying as it hovered above them. The whir of the rotors cut the air, silencing the birds and sending puffs of dust clouding up around the helicopter.
When the skids touched the ground with a gentle thud, Hattie and Luc both had to duck as dust and hot air billowed into their faces. Gradually the engine noise died away and the spin of the rotors subsided, the long blades drooping slightly as if dejected because their fun had been taken away. Only when they had completely stilled did the doors on either side of the squat body open and three figures jump out, one pulling a helmet off, another with a long telephoto lens camera in his hand and the third unloading a rucksack and a very big holdall, tossing long blonde hair over her shoulder.
‘Fliss!’ called Hattie, excitement overcoming her weariness. The other woman held up her hand in a cool wave that was so typical of her. Fliss took a bit of getting to know. On the outside she was reserved and a touch superior but on the inside she had the proverbial heart of gold and for those people she liked, she would do anything.
Fliss waited for the other two men and the three of them walked towards Hattie and Luc.
