Bright Angel by Isabelle Merlin Read Free Book Online Page A

future. Really careful. Oh well, I thought as I dried myself off and put on my T-shirt and jeans, maybe this was her version of careful. Getting me to tag along, just in case she forgot her resolution and let herself be swept up by Mr Sexy Frenchman without thinking twice about it.
    Freddy was already working in her study when we went downstairs. I poked my head in at the door and said good morning. She stopped tapping away on her computer, took off her glasses and smiled at me. ‘Good sleep?’
    â€˜Great. I feel fantastic.’ It was true. I’d been exhausted the night before, so tired I had practically nodded off into my plate of pasta. But this morning I felt bright and sharp and ready for anything.
    â€˜Claire tells me you’re going to that fellow’s film shoot.’
    â€˜Yeah, we are. Why don’t you come? It’s set in Roman times. Maybe they’ll even have Herod in it.’
    She grimaced. ‘They might, at that. I don’t know that I’m ready for Hollywood Herod, though. And I better get on with this. Oh, by the way, did Claire tell you? Dominic rang. Just wanted to know you were okay. He said they’d sent you an email. You can have a look tonight if you like – I’ve got a wireless connection to the laptop.’
    â€˜Sylvie!’ came Claire’s anxious voice, from the kitchen.
    Freddy smiled at me, and put her glasses back on. ‘You’d better get a move on. Your sister’s very keen to get going. See you later. Have fun.’
    â€˜You too.’
    Before I’d even left the room she was back at it, tapping away. Freddy was obviously really absorbed by her work. Dad had always said it took first place over everything else. She’d been married once, but the marriage had broken up years ago because he ran around with other women. She’d had no kids. Since then, she’d had boyfriends now and again but nothing long term. She didn’t seem all that bothered about it. I remember Dad saying that she’d told him once that, as far as she was concerned, a relationship was like a meal in an expensive restaurant. Nice to have, but hardly essential, plus you paid a high price for it and it didn’t last. Claire thought that was awfully cynical but I reckon maybe for Freddy, with her experience, it was just sensible. Sort of like self-defence.
    ***
    I managed to snatch a few bites of bread and butter and a glass of orange juice before my sister rushed me off to the car park to meet her Prince Charming. He was in the middle of his crowd, but broke off from whatever he was doing to come over to us. ‘I am so glad you could come,’ he said, smiling at Claire, which made me feel more spare wheel than ever. He brought us over to the others and introduced us. There was the producer, Jerome somebody, and the director, Claudine someone, and Marc’s PA, Mireille someone, and several other people, Christophe somebody else and Marina thingy and a few others whose names I didn’t quite register. Apparently most of the crew and cast were already at the site. Anyway, this lot seemed nice enough, if not particularly interested in us. Mireille, who seemed the friendliest of them all, and spoke English with an American accent she said she had picked up from living for a few years in the States, asked us a bit about Australia. None of them seemed a bit surprised to see a couple of strangers lobbing in. But maybe Marc invited pretty girls and their hangers-on all the time.
    There was a bit of kerfuffle while everyone piled into cars. Claire might have wanted me to stick to her but Marc had other ideas. I got relegated to a car with Christophe and a couple of girls who rattled on in very fast French nearly all the time so I hardly understood a word and soon didn’t bother trying to keep up.
    We went down the hill and turned out of the village, heading further into the countryside. After about five minutes or so, we turned off