Page 74 of Be Less Panda
‘No, thank you,’ Nancy said.
He navigated back to the main road.
Ten minutes later, Nancy and Olivia were standing on the footpath that ran past the cafe in the Bois de Boulogne, where Hans used to meet Nancy after work.
Olivia took charge. ‘Here’s the plan: We’ll watch the cafe from over there.’
She pointed to a wooded area opposite the cafe. ‘When we see Hans arrive, we’ll be able to see where he sits. You will go up to his table. I will continue to watch what’s going on froma distance. If you put your shoulder bag on your left shoulder, I’ll know you want rescuing.
‘But I always put my shoulder bag on my left shoulder.’
‘Ok. Your right shoulder, then.’
‘You’re taking this far too seriously. I’m sure I won’t need help.’
‘He might not be the man you remember.’
Nancy laughed. ‘I can guarantee he won’t be the strapping 24-year-old who swept me off my feet.’
‘You know what I mean. It could still be someone pretending to be him.’
Nancy sighed. ‘Alright then. How will you help exactly?’
‘It depends on what’s happening. My instincts are usually good. I scared off that man who tried to rob the mini-market around the corner from my house a few weeks ago.’
‘Woe betide any man who tries to get between you and your Petit Chablis. Anyway, Hans and I always used to go for a walk after we had a drink. He might want to do that.’
‘I’ll follow behind at a discrete distance.’
Nothing about Olivia was discrete normally, so this could be worth seeing or hopefully not seeing.
They were by the clump of trees now. Olivia led Nancy into the undergrowth. ‘We’ve got a good view from here.’
Nancy looked across at the cafe. It hadn’t changed much over the years. It might be painted a slightly different shade of green, but it still had tables dotted around in front of it, shaded by red and white umbrellas advertising beer. There was no sign of anyone who looked even vaguely like Hans.
Olivia looked at her watch. ’T minus 10. I can’t remember, was he punctual?’
‘Always,’ Nancy said. Hans had only kept her waiting once on that fateful day when he disappeared. She hoped he was on time today because Olivia’s edginess was becoming infectious. She was regretting accepting her offer of support.
A brown-haired man with a stick and a slight limp walked up to the cafe and dropped into a seat at the nearest table, obviously relieved to be able to sit down.
‘Is that him?’ Olivia asked.
‘Not unless he’s shrunk.’
‘People do you know.’
‘Not eight inches. That man is barely 5ft 6.’
‘He’s got a good head of hair.’
‘You mean he’s got a good wig maker. There is no way a man of his age has hair that thick. And how has it got darker? Hans was always a natural blonde.’
‘He might be dying it now.’
A woman joined the man at the table. They could hear them speaking in fluent French.
Not Hans, then. Nancy breathed a sigh of relief.