‘It’s terrible, Catriona McCabe, believe me,’ Luca implored, ‘terrible.’

Ben turned and looked down on his rider and his girl but he said nothing.

Luca regarded him. ‘I should go,’ he told his doctor, ‘I really should. But I am afraid. Can I ever be as happy for another team as I have been with Megapac?’

Still Ben didn’t speak.

‘Will I regret it more if I leave or if I stay?’

Ben’s facial expression remained unchanged.

‘Can I trust Jules Le Grand? Does he truly rate me highly enough to ride alongside Fabian Ducasse, Jesper Lomers and Carlos Jesu Velasquez?’

Ben had not moved a muscle.

‘Fuck, it gives me a headache,’ Luca moaned, finding temporary relief in Cat stroking his brow tenderly. ‘What would you do?’ he asked her.

‘I want you to be happy and to be the best rider it is possible for you ever to be,’ she said honestly.

‘But what would you do?’ he pleaded. ‘If you were me?’

Cat bit her lip and glared at Ben to help her, to help Luca.

‘What would you do, Ben,’ Luca asked, ‘if you were me?’

Still Ben stood defiantly silent, as still and stony as a statue.

‘What would you have me do, Ben?’ Luca rephrased.

Cat saw Ben swallow and then she detected a just perceptible softening of his brow.

‘I want you to be happy,’ Ben said, finding his voice and discovering it to be rather weak, ‘I want you to realize your true, possibly remarkable, potential as a professional road race cyclist.’

‘So what should I do?’ Luca whispered.

‘I think you should grasp the opportunity and join Système Vipère, ride and train with the best in the business,’ Ben whispered back.

The entourage of the Tour de France had their second Repos to transfer up to Paris, to Euro Disney, in preparation for the next day’s penultimate Stage of this year’s Tour de France, the final Time Trial. A TGV train was laid on for all the teams and any accredited personnel to use. Though Cat would have loved the experience, though she would have loved to have heard the announcement that the maillot jaune was currently driving the train, though she would have loved to listen to Vasily Jawlensky’s incomparably husky, guttural voice announcing over the PA, ‘Hullo, ladies and gentlemen, this is Vasily Jawlensky; I am driving you to Paris at 200 kph and I think I shall turn the corner – now!’; though all of this would have added greatly to Cat’s experience of the Tour de France, provided her with yet another glorious memory, she forsook the event to journey alone with Ben.

Alex and Josh were travelling in their car, squabbling about the best route to take, who would drive which section and when and where they would stop for refreshments. They were both astutely aware that, had Cat been in the car, she’d have chided, ‘Boys! Shut up and behave or you’ll be sent to your rooms without supper.’ As they drove along, they could both practically hear her wax poetic about some feature in the landscape or other. As their journey continued, they acknowledged privately that everything was more fun when Cat was there enlivening the proceedings quite unwittingly. This year’s Tour had been the richer for her presence; consequently, it had passed far more quickly and had also been much more memorable. They’d miss her when they returned home. They hoped she’d be travelling with them next year.