Because he’s good-looking and direct?

OK, don’t answer.

Sleep well.

STAGE 2
Rouen-Vuillard. 260 kilometres

The next morning, the whole of Rouen awoke to the incessant thrumming of rain. Rachel was pleased – Stefano would be forced to be more vigilant. On the whole, the riders from the lowlands didn’t mind such weather, but those from southern Europe mostly hated it. For physiques attuned to long hot summers, the cold or the damp could infiltrate their bodies swiftly and disrupt the pursuit of prime form. Stefano Sassetta was only too aware that he was of the latter persuasion but that his arch rival Jesper Lomers was of the former. In kilometres, it was to be the longest Stage of the entire race. If the wind was north-easterly, as it had been, it would be three-quarters behind them and the day would be fast. Breakfasting with the team, Stefano theorized that he would ride carefully, commandeer a posse of domestiques throughout and ensure he had at least two leadout guys for the final sprint. His directeur nodded his approval and team orders were given. Rachel, who had snatched a bowl of cornflakes two hours previously, was now hauling the team’s luggage from foyer to van.

‘Want a hand?’ Ben York, standing amongst the Megapac baggage, asked her.

‘No, you’re all right, Ben,’ Rachel replied.

‘Only all right?’ Ben teased.

‘In your dreams,’ Rachel responded, knowing full well that she’d never been in Ben’s dreams because, for the cycling fraternity at large, her gender went unnoticed.

The rain did not deter the crowds. The city of Rouen, birthplace of the great Jacques Anquetil, the first man to win the Tour five times, appeared to have turned out in its entirety. Cat went to the village, to the press stand to shelter and see if yesterday’s Guardian was there. It was. Taverner hadn’t cut a word.

‘Good work.’

She turned. Josh, in an extremely colourful cagoule, was reading over her shoulder. ‘Alex has wangled a ride in the Vitalicio team car,’ he continued, ‘so it’s just you and me. Shall we drive the route or the itinéraire direct?’

Cat beamed. ‘Route, please.’

Josh regarded her. ‘We might be able to nip in behind a break if we’re lucky – we’ll have to leave at the first bell, though. See you by the car.’

Cat felt back on track, read great significance in to the fact that the rain had abated, flipped over to a clean page in her pad and left the village to be amongst the teams.

‘Morning, Dr York,’ she said as she passed by, without stopping, without really looking.

‘Miss McCabe,’ he responded, businesslike in tone but with a glint in his eye which went unnoticed.

‘Cat,’ she said over her shoulder.

‘Ben,’ he called after her.

Ahead, Rachel raised her hand at Cat who waved back. Rachel beckoned her over.

‘Hey, Rachel,’ Cat said warmly.

‘I have something for you, Cat,’ Rachel replied, ‘hold on.’ The soigneur went to her team car and ferreted around in the glove compartment, retrieved what looked like a small make-up bag and rummaged around the contents. ‘This,’ she said to Cat, ‘is a talisman – and I think it’s my duty to pass it on to you.’ She proffered a closed fist. Cat held out her hand. A pencil sharpener.