Now here is a man who wishes away the hours that will keep us apart. And has given me a watch so I can count down the minutes till we’re together. Oh fuck, am I going to be able not to cry?

‘I wish I’d bloody never met you,’ Cat says in an extremely strangled voice.

‘I wish I’d never met you too,’ Ben agrees quietly.

‘Cat McCabe,’ Ben says, pulling over to the hard shoulder and switching off the engine, ‘I am in love with you.’

Blimey, Ben!

It was easy to say. Now I’m exhausted. If my adrenal glands weren’t in overdrive, I’d gladly fall asleep.

‘I really do,’ Ben emphasizes, most wide awake.

Cat can’t speak, she can only nod. But the depth of her gaze and the sincerity of a tear which trickles cautiously down her face, speaks volumes to Ben.

They don’t say much, just talk in clichés that don’t seem hackneyed in the least. They agree that where there’s a will there’s a way, they reason that absence can only make their hearts beat stronger, they define that everything happens for a reason, they say that what will be will be, they theorize that one isn’t given a dream without also being given the power to realize it. They grin and kiss and Cat sobs and Ben tastes her tears and reveals a few of his own, for the first time ever, to another person. This Cat McCabe, journaliste, whom he met less than a month ago, whom surely he has known all his life, whom he cannot condone spending time without, whom he craves and desires and loves and feels all his emotions reciprocated.

And then the police move them on. And they continue their journey towards Paris and two days concluding the Tour de France.

STAGE 19
Disneyland Paris, Individual Time Trial: 63 kilometres

‘Alex, we can’t,’ Josh whispered, giggling behind his hand like a schoolboy.

‘We bloody can,’ said Alex, quite the playground bully.

‘Poor Cat,’ Josh laughed, ‘she’ll die.’

‘She’ll die if she doesn’t,’ Alex chortled at his Catch 22.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Josh repeated with a certain glee, ‘we really can’t!’

‘Can’t what?’ said Ben, suddenly appearing from Cat’s room outside which Alex and Josh had been hovering furtively, sniggering, for the best part of ten minutes.

‘We can’t expect Cat to wear this,’ said Josh, holding up a Minnie Mouse outfit, ‘she’ll die.’

Ben regarded the outfit and the two costumiers with an expression of horror which lasted but five seconds before transforming itself into one of wicked delight.

‘You absolutely can,’ Ben said, holding open the door to Cat’s room and ushering in her two colleagues.

Cat was dressed extremely nicely in navy shorts and a navy and cream top. She was packing her bags and checking that her phone had recharged when she turned to see her two colleagues and Ben standing silently abreast. Alex was in the middle, holding a polka dot frilly dress by the shoulders; to either side of him, Ben and Josh each held an edge of the skirt. All were regarding her most gravely.