Richie was sitting on the edge of the barge looking out over the water,
waiting for Duncan to get back and generally feeling very sorry for
himself.
He'd been bored. Bored and lonely and homesick. That had been his problem to begin with. Now his problem was how his friends were going to react to his methods for counteracting that boredom.
When Duncan had first given him the plane ticket and he'd understood that he really was going to Paris with Tessa he couldn't believe his luck. Given practically no time to pack, let alone think about the realities of a move to France he'd just floated along on a cloud of excitement that had lasted him until Mac joined them and they'd settled into the barge on the Seine.
Then reality set in. Its wasn't that he didn't like Paris or wasn't incredibly grateful to his friends for the chance they had given him. It was just that, well, he didn't belong. He didn't know anyone and couldn't have made himself understood even if he'd met anyone. He was far more dependent on his friends here than he had ever been at home and dependence on anyone wasn't something he was exactly comfortable with.
Duncan and Tessa didn't seem to mind. They generally tried to include him in anything they were doing but they had friends of their own here and they were definitely not his type. Or, more to the point, he wasn't theirs. They were clearly a little perplexed by his inclusion in Duncan and Tessa's family and he quite often had the suspicion that they were talking about him when they suddenly moved into French and that made him even more uncomfortable.
He didn't want to bother either of his friends with his problems. He wasn't a child after all and he didn't want them to think he wasn't happy to be here, particularly given everything they'd done for him. So he retreated into his usual cocky, tough guy persona and struck out on his own. And anyway, wasn't Tessa always saying that he'd learn the language much more quickly that way?
Duncan and Tessa had been invited to a weekend house party at the chateau of a gallery owner friend of Tessa's. They had assumed that he'd go too but he had persuaded them that he would much rather stay in Paris. Reluctantly they had agreed, feeling that there was little trouble that he really could get into in just two days.
Big mistake, thought Richie as he sat watching the sunset and mentally reviewing the weekend's events. Mac would be back in an hour or so and he was not going to be happy with the tale Richie had to tell.
It has started out innocently enough. The drive hadn't really been a bad idea. Mac had left the keys after all and there really hadn't seemed any harm in just going for a drive. Ok, so he wasn't actually supposed to drive without Mac or Tessa along after that little incident with the traffic cop but, what the hell? That was just a technicality anyway and no one would ever know. Would they? Anyway, it was a stupid place to stand. Even if he was directing traffic
Maybe he shouldn't have stopped at the café? No, even that would've been ok if he'd just had a coke and moved on but, well, it was legal for him to drink here, wasn't it? And, well, he was bored and fed up and a beer seemed like a good idea at the time. And another. And another.
Even then, everything would have been ok if it hadn't been for that jerk in the corner. How was he supposed to know that he was the son of the patron behind Tessa's exhibition? Maybe if his brain had been clearer he would have realised that the brat seemed familiar but, in his beer fuddled state, he'd just thought the kid was a mouthy little bastard who deserved to be taught a lesson.
Ok, now hitting him was definitely a mistake but, even so, the café owner hadn't needed to chase them out with a broom like a couple of scrapping puppies! And she definitely didn't need to phone the obnoxious little brat' s father. They'd only traded a couple of blows for goodness sake. It was all but over by the time the old man arrived!
Now him Richie did recognise and the recognition was clearly mutual. And unwelcome. Richie didn't understand very much of the tirade that was directed at him but he got the general gist of it and it clearly wasn't complementary. Tessa's name was also mentioned several times so it was clear that she would be the first to hear of his activities. Suddenly this didn't seem like such a great idea after all.
Finishing the tirade in a crescendo, gesticulating at both boys, the old man swiftly clipped his son across the back of his head and swept him off, leaving Richie feeling very much the worse for wear and digging through his pockets for the car keys. They weren't there.
Timidly he walked back towards the café to look for them inside. On seeing him the owner initially brandished her broom again but he managed to explain his problem with in a mixture of pidgin French and gestures and she agreed to let him back in to look for his keys. Unfortunately they didn't seem to be there either.
This shouldn't have been a problem. After all, breaking into cars was what he'd done for a living at one stage but why oh why did those policemen just happen to be passing just then? And why oh why did one of them just happen to be his friend the traffic cop? Though, strangely enough, that at least turned out to be a blessing. Given that the guy clearly remembered him he couldn't actually arrest him for breaking into Duncan's car, however tempted he might be. They couldn't even charge him under the drunk driving laws. He didn't have the keys on him so how could he be intending to drive? However that did rather leave him without transport as he could hardly hotwire it and drive it away under their very noses.
It had been a long, cold walk back to the barge that night and an even longer walk around Paris the next day trying to find where he'd left the car. The anticipation of Duncan's probable reaction when he heard that his was car as lost somewhere in Paris together with the reason why was not exactly comforting either.
Richie was used to talking his way out of trouble. It was something he was very good at but even he had some doubts that he could talk his way out of this one. Which is why he was sitting on the barge looking out over the water, waiting for his friends to get back, generally feeling very sorry for himself.
He'd been bored. Bored and lonely and homesick. That had been his problem to begin with. Now his problem was how his friends were going to react to his methods for counteracting that boredom.
When Duncan had first given him the plane ticket and he'd understood that he really was going to Paris with Tessa he couldn't believe his luck. Given practically no time to pack, let alone think about the realities of a move to France he'd just floated along on a cloud of excitement that had lasted him until Mac joined them and they'd settled into the barge on the Seine.
Then reality set in. Its wasn't that he didn't like Paris or wasn't incredibly grateful to his friends for the chance they had given him. It was just that, well, he didn't belong. He didn't know anyone and couldn't have made himself understood even if he'd met anyone. He was far more dependent on his friends here than he had ever been at home and dependence on anyone wasn't something he was exactly comfortable with.
Duncan and Tessa didn't seem to mind. They generally tried to include him in anything they were doing but they had friends of their own here and they were definitely not his type. Or, more to the point, he wasn't theirs. They were clearly a little perplexed by his inclusion in Duncan and Tessa's family and he quite often had the suspicion that they were talking about him when they suddenly moved into French and that made him even more uncomfortable.
He didn't want to bother either of his friends with his problems. He wasn't a child after all and he didn't want them to think he wasn't happy to be here, particularly given everything they'd done for him. So he retreated into his usual cocky, tough guy persona and struck out on his own. And anyway, wasn't Tessa always saying that he'd learn the language much more quickly that way?
Duncan and Tessa had been invited to a weekend house party at the chateau of a gallery owner friend of Tessa's. They had assumed that he'd go too but he had persuaded them that he would much rather stay in Paris. Reluctantly they had agreed, feeling that there was little trouble that he really could get into in just two days.
Big mistake, thought Richie as he sat watching the sunset and mentally reviewing the weekend's events. Mac would be back in an hour or so and he was not going to be happy with the tale Richie had to tell.
It has started out innocently enough. The drive hadn't really been a bad idea. Mac had left the keys after all and there really hadn't seemed any harm in just going for a drive. Ok, so he wasn't actually supposed to drive without Mac or Tessa along after that little incident with the traffic cop but, what the hell? That was just a technicality anyway and no one would ever know. Would they? Anyway, it was a stupid place to stand. Even if he was directing traffic
Maybe he shouldn't have stopped at the café? No, even that would've been ok if he'd just had a coke and moved on but, well, it was legal for him to drink here, wasn't it? And, well, he was bored and fed up and a beer seemed like a good idea at the time. And another. And another.
Even then, everything would have been ok if it hadn't been for that jerk in the corner. How was he supposed to know that he was the son of the patron behind Tessa's exhibition? Maybe if his brain had been clearer he would have realised that the brat seemed familiar but, in his beer fuddled state, he'd just thought the kid was a mouthy little bastard who deserved to be taught a lesson.
Ok, now hitting him was definitely a mistake but, even so, the café owner hadn't needed to chase them out with a broom like a couple of scrapping puppies! And she definitely didn't need to phone the obnoxious little brat' s father. They'd only traded a couple of blows for goodness sake. It was all but over by the time the old man arrived!
Now him Richie did recognise and the recognition was clearly mutual. And unwelcome. Richie didn't understand very much of the tirade that was directed at him but he got the general gist of it and it clearly wasn't complementary. Tessa's name was also mentioned several times so it was clear that she would be the first to hear of his activities. Suddenly this didn't seem like such a great idea after all.
Finishing the tirade in a crescendo, gesticulating at both boys, the old man swiftly clipped his son across the back of his head and swept him off, leaving Richie feeling very much the worse for wear and digging through his pockets for the car keys. They weren't there.
Timidly he walked back towards the café to look for them inside. On seeing him the owner initially brandished her broom again but he managed to explain his problem with in a mixture of pidgin French and gestures and she agreed to let him back in to look for his keys. Unfortunately they didn't seem to be there either.
This shouldn't have been a problem. After all, breaking into cars was what he'd done for a living at one stage but why oh why did those policemen just happen to be passing just then? And why oh why did one of them just happen to be his friend the traffic cop? Though, strangely enough, that at least turned out to be a blessing. Given that the guy clearly remembered him he couldn't actually arrest him for breaking into Duncan's car, however tempted he might be. They couldn't even charge him under the drunk driving laws. He didn't have the keys on him so how could he be intending to drive? However that did rather leave him without transport as he could hardly hotwire it and drive it away under their very noses.
It had been a long, cold walk back to the barge that night and an even longer walk around Paris the next day trying to find where he'd left the car. The anticipation of Duncan's probable reaction when he heard that his was car as lost somewhere in Paris together with the reason why was not exactly comforting either.
Richie was used to talking his way out of trouble. It was something he was very good at but even he had some doubts that he could talk his way out of this one. Which is why he was sitting on the barge looking out over the water, waiting for his friends to get back, generally feeling very sorry for himself.