But I tell you what though; there is a board over there where locals put cards to advertise. You might find something there."She thanked him and then breezed past Jordan, hardly noticing him, on her way to check out the cards stuck on the board at the back of the shop. He watched her for a few minutes as he bought his few items of shopping. Her hips swayed and her ponytail swished as she looked carefully from one side of the board to the other."No luck?" the shopkeeper called over, as she sighed and made her way toward the door. "No" she replied, sadly. "Maybe I'll just ask around the neighbours, but I don't really know anyone that well."Jordan took a step toward her and put out his hand."Er... Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear... Mrs Peters is it...?"She half turned again."Yes it is. Oh, I've noticed you pass my way on your bike sometimes. Do you know of someone who could help me out?" She shook his offered hand. "Well, my name is Jordan," he smiled, and added, "I have a. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the young pap, who was following her down the street.Peter was stunned when he saw Emma. She had the appearance of a normal twenty-something. It stood in stark contrast to her red carpet events, he thought, where she always appeared to Peter like an untouchable diva. Some of his colleagues had talked about her appearing normal, but he shouldn't be fooled. Ben, Peter's boss and now head of Britain's biggest paparazzi photo agency, had his own opinion of her. For a long time, he had managed to find her wherever she was hiding. He had pictured her walking through Oxford, London, Manchester, Glasgow, and Brighton – to name just a few. He even bragged about getting shots of her kissing a bloke somewhere in Sandbanks. But the agency never sold such pictures. In fact, no one ever found such files on the agency's cloud. His friends all joked behind his back, claiming that Ben had only dreamed about getting his hands on such material.
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