CHAPTER EIGHT
79“Excellent, Mam’selle Éclair!” exclaimed Chef Michel as Alice wheeled her cake into the hall to take pride of place for the gala. Alice was pleased with how the toppers had turned out. She had recreated Hugo’s designs perfectly, standing each roundel on its edge so that the figures looked as though they were in motion. They were white chocolate, dusted with gold so that they shimmered in the light of the candelabra on each of the tables in the dining hall. Above the medallions, Alice had added a spray of spun sugar to look like fireworks bursting from the top of the cake.
“You have a few hours in hand before we begin,” said Chef Michel, glancing at his watch. “Perhaps a rest would be advisable. It will be a busy evening.”
Alice was glad of a break. She stepped out into the warm afternoon and made her way down the dusty track towards the cycle huts. As she passed the first, a group of girls tumbled out of it, giggling and holding up sparkling dresses to themselves. The camp was clearly excited for a rest from training and an evening of sheer enjoyment.
Alice rapped on the door of Adele’s hut but there was no response. 80
“They’ll all be at the velodrome,” called a voice from the next hut, and a young man stuck his head out of the door. “Carry on down that track there and it’s the first stadium on your right.”
The velodrome was a large wooden structure with a track that curved like a bowl down to a paved platform full of bicycle stands, tables full of inner tubes and spanners, and one very comfortable armchair. Alice arrived as the cyclists were beginning a race and she stared as they rode up on to the steep sides till they were cycling at an alarming angle, their wheels spinning so fast that they were a blur.
Down in the middle of the track, Hugo was making notes in a large blue book and Sophie was helping one of the cyclists to check the wheels on their bicycle. Hugo waved Alice to join them.
“Adele’s just done her first time trial,” he said. “Room for improvement if she wants to make the team and get gold, but on the whole we’re happy, which is more than you can say for Bastien.”
“Which one is Bastien?” asked Alice, but as soon as she had said it, she realised it was obvious who Adele’s trainer was. Claude had said that he could 81be grumpy, and surely it must be the handsome but frowning man who was stood at the side of the track, glowering at the cyclists as they sped past.
“He’s not in that bad a mood,” said Sophie. “When he’s really grumpy he sulks in his armchair. He had me add castors to it, you know, so that it spins round and he can glare at everyone in perfect comfort.”
Adele completed a full circuit as she slowed down and descended to join them in the middle of the track.
“Still five seconds away from the Olympic record,” shouted Bastien, striding over to them. “You lifted your head too soon on the last circuit. That could have cost you in wind drag. What’s the point in Stephanie here making your bicycle the fastest on the track if you’re going to ruin it all by cycling badly?”
“It’s Sophie,” muttered Sophie. Bastien ignored her.
“Take five minutes, stretch and then try again,” he snapped.
Adele dismounted and began to stretch out her muscles. 82
“What slowed you down?” asked Hugo. “Was it the wind? It’s quite strong from the north-west at the moment.”
Alice gave him a quizzical glance.
He drew a compass from his pocket and waved it at her.
“I’m never without this,” he said. “Papa made it for me and it’s invaluable for working out where on the track Adele might be heading into a crosswind.”
“It wasn’t anything to do with the wind,” said Adele, pointing at another cyclist. “As I passed Emily, her wheel wobbled and I checked behind to see if she had fallen.”
Hugo slipped his compass back into his pocket and buttoned it safely inside. “Don’t tell Bastien that,” he warned. “Winning at all costs, remember.”
Adele bent her leg behind her and pulled on her foot to stretch. “I like to play fair,” she said simply. “And I can always do better next time.”
“Well, I thought you looked amazing,” said Alice.
“I suppose it sounds like a lot of fuss over five seconds,” said Adele.
“Not at all. A few seconds can be the difference between perfectly whipped cream and a curdled 83mess,” said Alice.
“Come for a walk,” said Adele. “It will keep my muscles warm. Hugo, are you coming?”
He shook his head. “I’m not pushing it today,” he said. “I don’t want to have to sit out this evening’s fun, so I’ll stay here for a bit.”
The three of them left Hugo bent over time calculations and walked round the edge of the track while Adele pointed out the other potential members of the team, who were doing their own test runs. They were three-quarters of the way round the track when a cyclist on a shining silver bicycle sped past them, her feet pumping against the pedals.
“It all looks very hard work,” said Alice.
Adele nodded.
“A lot of people think that it’s all down to the bicycle,” she said, “and Sophie’s amazing designs do make me faster, but there’s more to it than that. I have to keep my legs strong and my balance good and know when to push ahead of the others. It’s great up there though. It’s the closest you can get to flying without being in one of Sophie’s inventions.”
“Speaking of which,” said Sophie. “Ariadne’s here.” 84
Alice grinned at the mention of Sophie’s small plane. She had built it herself and it had made quite an entrance at the World Fair the previous year.
“You have to come and see her,” said Sophie. “I flew her in this morning and I’ve made quite a few improvements since you last saw her.”
“And flew her,” said Alice, grinning at the thought of when she had flown the tiny plane over Paris while trying to catch two dastardly spies.
“Yes, well, you won’t be doing that again,” said Sophie sternly, making Alice laugh.
Adele jogged ahead to her bicycle, which was propped against a stand in the middle of the arena. Bastien was talking with Hugo, both of them looking through Hugo’s notebook.
“I said take five minutes, not go for a walk,” he snapped. “Get back on and rerun that circuit.”
Adele stretched to each side, tightened her helmet over her ears and then wheeled her bicycle back to the track. Alice and Sophie sat down to watch her on her next test run.
As the sun finally set over the camp the gala was in full swing. The centre of the Chefs’ Hall, where the 85athletes usually ate their meals at long tables, had been transformed into a dance floor and several of the guests were performing energetic twists and turns to the music of the jazz band on the stage. Waiters wove their way through them carrying trays of sweet treats or sparkling glasses. The athletes had changed too, swapping shorts and T-shirts for smart suits and evening dresses in order to greet the local dignitaries and famous faces who had been invited to add a touch of glamour to the occasion. Alice saw an American actress, who had recently made France her home, talking with the swimming team and remembered that before being discovered by Hollywood, she had been tipped to be an Olympic champion. The mayor was weaving his way between the tables, talking briefly with each team and making sure to shake the hands of every factory owner.
“Isn’t it posh!” said Sophie, who was standing beside her, having just brought a tray full of vol-au-vents from the busy kitchens. “I don’t think Adele is enjoying herself much.” She pointed towards a table at the end of the room, where Adele was sitting between Hugo and Bastien.
The coach did look very stern and Adele, in a long 86chiffon gown, seemed bored and uncomfortable.
“Adele hates this sort of thing,” said Sophie. “She thinks it’s a waste of good training time. She’s very driven. That’s why I don’t think that these notes will bother her. She won’t give up just because someone is sending her horrible messages.”
Alice caught Adele’s eye and gave her a brief wave. The cyclist murmured something to Bastien, got up and made her way through the crowd of chattering guests, followed by Hugo, who expertly propelled his chair round the gathered groups. As he reached Alice and Sophie, he leaned back and spun round in a perfect circle.
“How did you—” started Alice.
“Sophie has been making some adjustments.” Hugo laughed, making a half-bow towards the young engineer.
“I tilted the wheels slightly towards the top,” Sophie explained. “And added smaller ones at the back that work like castors, so Hugo can change direction more quickly.”
Hugo quickly spun his chair back and forth to demonstrate.
“I’ve been in this old chair for years,” he said. “No 87one thinks to make them quicker or easier to use. I reckon I could give Adele a run for her money in this.”
“If I’m allowed to compete on my two wheels, I don’t see why you can’t compete on yours,” said Adele. “One day there will be wheelchair competitions, just you wait and see.”
“And in the meantime, we’ll have to rely on you to bring home the gold medals,” said Hugo.
“Speaking of medals,” said Alice, “what do you think?”
She motioned towards the top tier of her cake and Hugo wheeled closer to the table and let out a sigh of admiration. “They look great,” he said. He leaned further forwards. “Well, I never noticed that before.”
“What?” asked Alice.
Hugo pointed to the arm of the archer, then the swimmer and the runner. “They move around almost as though they are the points of a clock. Look. The archer is pointing to midnight, and the swimmer to one o’clock.”
Alice stared at them.
“Didn’t you design them like that?” 88
Hugo shrugged. “Maybe. I just copied what I remember from Papa’s medallion. He used to let me play with it when I was tiny and he was working late on one of his inventions. It’s amazing – clockwork that moves when you press a button on the side. The figure in the middle moves to create all the sports I’ve drawn, one by one.”
Alice watched Hugo carefully. Once again, she was surprised that the twins did not look more worried when talking about their father. Were they just good at hiding their emotions, or was there really something in his last letter that had convinced them he was safe? Monsieur Rejewski was a skilled codebreaker. Surely he would have left a clue, even if he was not sure that his children would be able to solve it. She wished she could see the note, but there was no good excuse she could think of for asking to read it.
Alice sighed. She’d come up with a good reason. In the meantime, she picked up her cake slice.
“I think you should have the first taste,” she said.
An hour later, when all that was left of Alice’s cake was a pile of crumbs and the memories of murmured 89admiration, Bastien appeared at Alice’s table.
“The cake,” the trainer said. “Interesting design.”
He picked up a medallion that had been on the top tier and examined it closely. Alice was about to tell him that it was Hugo’s design when the trainer slipped it into his pocket and, without a word, walked away back into the crowd. Alice watched him make a beeline for Chloé, who was hovering at the side of the room, and the two of them bent their heads together in conversation.
“What a rude man,” Alice muttered.
It was a very strange exchange and Alice’s gut always told her that strange things usually meant something. She watched the coach as he left Chloé and made his way through the room and out on to the patio that overlooked the cycling track.
“What’s going on?” hissed a voice at Alice’s elbow. It was Sophie.
“Bastien is acting very strangely,” said Alice. “He seemed very interested in the designs I made for the cake. He stole a topper!”
“Not surprising,” said Sophie. “Your designs are always delicious.” She dipped her finger into the leftover sugar cream and ate it with relish. 90
“I’ll tell you one odd thing I saw earlier,” she continued. “I had to go to the city this morning to collect a new chain for Adele’s bicycle. Chloé was there at the cycle shop and so was Bastien. You remember I said that’s where Chloé has her bicycle fixed, but Bastien never goes there? And as I was coming out of the door I bumped into this man who stared very hard at me before stepping aside to let me go past. It was almost as though he recognised me, but we’ve never met.”
“What did he look like?” asked Alice.
“Old, broad shoulders, brown eyes – the shade you get when you forget to change your engine oil, and a nose like the tailfin of an American Eaglet.”
Of course, Sophie would see everything through the eyes of an engineer. The thought almost made Alice smile, but something nagged at her. Sophie’s description of the man in the bicycle shop sounded a lot like Uncle Robert. Uncle Robert had been passing notes from the Hotel Anise. Was he behind the ones that were sent to Adele? It was looking more and more likely that he was involved. And in that case, had he been at the cycle shop to meet someone? But who?