The Paris Affair

15 Julia

15

Julia

July, 2002 – Paris

Julia opened the window. The Tuileries Gardens blossomed in front of her. Sandy yellow paths intersected rows of ornamental trees. The morning sun lit up the stone buildings and grey-leaded roofs of the Louvre.

She’d never stayed anywhere like Le Meurice before. The room was enormous: a double bed and armchairs arranged around a coffee table. She’d hung up her clothes on padded hangers, unpacked her toiletries, and now … well, now came the difficult task of phoning Sebastian to tell him she wasn’t coming to Prague.

After an agonizing wait, he answered.

‘Julia,’ he said. ‘Please tell me you’re at the airport.’

‘Actually’ – she steeled herself – ‘I’m in Paris.’

A sharp intake of breath. ‘What?’

‘I’m staying at Hotel Le Meurice in Paris. We arrived this afternoon.’

‘For heaven’s sake, what are you doing there?’

‘I’ve come with Christoph to look after him.’ Her voice faltered: please let him understand.

‘But all the publicity. Tickets sold.’

Julia bit her lip. ‘I know, but the stiffness keeps happening.’

‘You said it was improving.’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I hoped it would, but my hands need a rest, and Christoph needs my help to get back to his old self. I can’t play yet, Sebastian.’

Sebastian sighed. ‘I think you’re making a mistake. By running away, you’ll only make things worse.’

His words echoed the doubts in her head. Her mother’s voice too: ‘Don’t be a quitter. I gave up the piano when you were born, and look where that’s left me . ’ But running counter to this was Christoph’s advice that sometimes it was better to stop.

‘I’m sorry, Sebastian. I don’t want to disappoint you. But there’s no way I can go on stage in Prague.’

She heard him shuffling papers on his desk. ‘I guess I could get Tanja to do Prague. She’s free.’

‘Tanja?’ She was another one of his clients, an up-and-coming pianist from Estonia who was extremely talented. Julia had a sickening moment of regret.

‘She’s playing flawlessly right now,’ Sebastian said.

‘Don’t say that.’

‘What do you expect me to say? I’ll have to spend the next few hours sorting out the cancellation. If Tanja wasn’t available, it’d be much worse.’

‘I know,’ Julia pressed the phone against her ear. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘If you really think it will help, maybe this rest is worth a try. But you have to promise to come back in time for the next concert in Salzburg.’

‘I will,’ Julia said, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t have to break yet another promise. Sebastian had been understanding, but she feared his patience would run out soon. ‘Thank you.’

‘What are you doing in Paris anyway?’

‘Christoph wanted us to bring him here.’

‘Us?’ Sebastian’s voice became alert. ‘Who else is there with you?’

Damn, she hadn’t meant to tell him. ‘Daniel. It’s a chance for Christoph and him to spend some time together.’

‘I see. Well, I hope it all turns out the way you hope.’

She put the phone down and buried her head in the pillow. Oh God, was she doing the right thing? It was tempting to snatch up the phone and ring him again. The thought of Tanja taking her place was unbearable. But how could Julia go on stage knowing there might be a repeat of what happened at Wigmore Hall?

She breathed out. It was done. There was no going back. She was free for a while longer. She wouldn’t worry about Salzburg yet. Instead, she’d put the piano out of her mind and concentrate on cooking.

Later, she went to see Christoph. He was sitting in an armchair in his hotel room, resting after the journey.

‘Did you find a class then?’ he said. Christoph had suggested getting some professional help with the next recipe.

‘The receptionist has recommended a patisserie that does lessons,’ Julia said. ‘I’ve taken the plunge and booked a place for this afternoon. We’re making palmiers. It’s the closest I’ll get to making a Schweinsohren in Paris.’

‘Marvellous.’

‘Will you be okay while I’m gone?’

Christoph’s old, battered suitcase stood next to the wardrobe. He hadn’t brought much with him, just some clothes and the guidebook.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Hopefully, Daniel will keep me company.’

Julia glanced at the interconnecting door to Daniel’s room. ‘Have you told him about Sylvie and why we’ve really come to Paris?’

Christoph sighed. ‘No, I think he’ll disapprove.’

‘Why?’

‘He was close to his mother. I doubt he’d want me to try and remember a woman I knew from the war. Besides, he’s never liked talking about the past.’

‘He’ll think we’re conspiring.’

‘There’s nothing to tell him yet, just scraps and fragments,’ Christoph said. ‘Let’s wait and see.’

‘Did anything come back to you when we walked into Le Meurice?’

She’d watched Christoph’s face as he climbed the front stairs and entered the lobby. He’d looked bewildered at the high ceiling and smartly dressed concierge.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But everything’s so different now. Back then, there were soldiers going in and out, not tourists. It was a strange place to work. The hotel had been designed for leisure and opulence, and there we were, at the Kommandant’s bidding, managing the occupation of France.’

Being here again seemed to have helped Christoph’s memory.

‘It sounds like Sylvie found it strange too. I found this written by the recipe for Schweinsohren,’ Julia said, opening the pages of the book. ‘ You were with me when I made these, Christoph. Things weren’t friendly between us. We were on opposite sides, even then. Do you remember her making the Schweinsohren?’

‘No,’ Christoph said. ‘I just know she made an impression on me. That day in the Tuileries, when I helped a girl who was being harassed by the soldiers, I wanted to show Sylvie I was a decent person. I don’t know why her opinion mattered, but it did.’

He glanced at Julia. ‘Speaking of which … is everything all right between you and Daniel? You were very quiet on the journey here.’

Julia shrugged. She’d glanced at Daniel as he drove, his strong hands firm on the steering wheel, and experienced such a sense of longing. But there was nothing safe to say to Daniel that didn’t remind her of the past.

‘It’s complicated,’ she said.

‘I know, but could you try and be friends with him, for my sake?’ Christoph said. He looked tired: his eyes were tinged with purple.

Julia had no desire to make this trip any harder for Christoph. She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘Of course.’

Patisserie Claude was situated on the quai de l’H?tel de Ville. The shop window was filled with an array of intricately decorated pastries. Julia’s nerves doubled as she opened the door. There was no way she could make anything so exquisite. A young man wearing whites and a chef’s hat welcomed her.

‘ Bonjour , you must be Julia,’ he said, consulting his list. ‘I’m Claude. A pleasure to meet you.’

‘I’m afraid I’m a complete beginner,’ Julia said, anxious he should know her limitations from the off.

Claude smiled. ‘ Pas de problème . That’s what I’m here for.’ He handed her an apron.

Julia put it round her waist and fastened the straps. At least he seemed friendly. She glanced around. Two older couples, ready and waiting with their aprons already on, smiled encouragingly.

‘ Bien s?r ,’ Claude said. ‘Let’s begin with making the puff pastry.’

Julia took a scraper and rolling pin and got to work making the dough as per Claude’s step-by-step instructions. Flour puffed all over her apron, making her sneeze. The next task was to wrap the dough around a block of butter. Claude came over to check how things were going.

‘ Fais attention. Your butter is getting too soft,’ he said, hovering at her elbow.

‘Sorry,’ Julia said, flustered. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Wrap it all in cling film and pop it in the fridge. We’re going to take a break anyway.’ He winked. ‘And relax, you’re doing okay.’

Julia tried to relax, but it was difficult. Her perfectionism kept getting in the way. Claude’s filling for the palmiers was different to Sylvie’s recipe. Instead of joining the rest of the group, she stayed inside to consult the recipe book.

‘What’s that?’ Claude said. He had two cups of coffee and handed one to Julia.

‘An old recipe book,’ she said. ‘I’m making the recipes for a friend who was here during the war. The food helps him to remember those years. At the moment, it’s all a bit of a mystery, so we’re hoping that being back in Paris and continuing to make the recipes will help put the pieces together.’

‘ C’est interessant . May I see?’ He took the recipe book and glanced at it. ‘Who is this friend of yours?’

‘My piano mentor. He’s very old now and struggles to recollect it all,’ Julia said. ‘I’m not much of a cook. That’s why I’ve come here. I’m desperate to see him at peace with the past.’

Claude’s eyes softened. ‘Ah, my grand-mère was the same. She struggled to remember her life. By the end, she didn’t recognize me.’

Julia sighed. ‘The doctor has mentioned the possibility that it might be dementia. I feel like time isn’t on our side. I just have to keep going with the recipes and see where it leads us.’

‘So that’s why you’re here today,’ Claude said, handing back the book.

‘I wanted to make Schweinsohren,’ Julia explained. ‘They’re like palmiers, except, in this recipe, there’s a different filling. Cinnamon, figs and walnuts.’

‘A delicious combination,’ Claude mused. ‘I’ve never tried that before.’

‘There are notes in the margins. Look at this one. If it hadn’t been for the Schweinsohren, you wouldn’t have walked me through Paris. Do you remember the dried lavender? I wonder if you have it still. ’

‘Sounds intriguing,’ Claude said. ‘It’s a German recipe, isn’t it?’

Julia glanced at him. ‘Yes, my friend, Christoph, he’s German. He was here during the occupation.’

‘It was a difficult time for France. Even now, for Parisians, discussing the occupation is – how shall I put it? – very complicated.’

Julia nodded. ‘Christoph feels a tremendous amount of guilt and shame for the occupation. I wonder if trying to regain his memories is a way of atoning, somehow.’

‘Well, he sounds like an interesting man,’ Claude said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘Do you know who wrote the recipes?’

‘I only know her first name. Sylvie. Christophe can’t remember how he ended up with the recipe book, but judging by the dedication, I imagine it was a gift from when he was stationed here in Paris.’

‘So, she was French. I do love a mystery.’ Claude glanced at his watch. ‘Sadly, I need to resume the class. Don’t tell the rest of the group, but I’ll help you make your filling.’

At the end of the session, Julia had a box of palmiers wrapped in pink ribbon ready to take back to Christoph. Thanks to Claude, they’d turned out quite well.

Claude tucked his business card under the ribbon.

‘Christoph is lucky to have you helping him with the recipes. I wish I could have tried something similar with my grand-mère. Where are you both staying?’

‘Le Meurice.’

Claude gave a low whistle. ‘ Très chic ,’ he said. ‘I worked there for a while. The head chef, Pierre Dupont, was my mentor. With your permission, I’ll let him know the project you’re working on. His father worked at Le Meurice during the war. Pierre might be interested in what you’re doing.’

‘Thank you,’ Julia said. ‘You’ve been so kind. I really am a hopeless cook.’

‘Everyone has to start somewhere. If I can do anything else, let me know. You have my number.’

Julia smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you. You’ve been so kind.’

The cooking session had lifted her spirits. And Claude’s friendliness had made her feel ready to tackle the rest of this trip and hopefully discover more about Sylvie. She set off down the street, humming to herself. Maybe this break would be good for more than just her hands.

There was no sign of Christoph in the hotel lounge. They’d arranged to meet at six. It was nearly half past now. Panic gripped Julia. She shouldn’t have left him for so long. Then she saw Daniel reading a book, a bottle of beer on the table.

‘Where’s Christoph? Is he all right?’ she said.

Daniel closed his book. ‘Don’t worry. I took him for a walk and that wore him out. He’s resting upstairs.’

Julia let out a deep breath and sat down. ‘Thank God. I thought something had happened.’

‘I can look after my own father, you know.’ Daniel’s tone was a touch defensive.

Julia’s chest tensed. She hadn’t meant it as a criticism. ‘I was worried, that’s all.’

Daniel’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just feel bad that I wasn’t there when he collapsed. You handled it amazingly. I’m not sure I’d be so calm.’

‘How is he?’

Daniel leaned back in the chair. ‘I was looking forward to spending some time with him, but he seemed distracted. I’d hoped to talk to him about the farm, and his memories of growing up there. I thought it might be something we had in common, as I spent so much time there as a child, but he wasn’t really listening. He kept talking about lavender. How he needed to find some.’

Lavender. That’s what Sylvie had referred to in the notes by the recipe. ‘Maybe he can’t focus on the farm right now.’

‘I know, but I thought that’s what this trip was about, a chance to talk.’

Julia twisted the pink ribbon around her finger. The gap between Christoph and Daniel never seemed to lessen.

‘I’m sure that will come. You just need to be patient. He’s still recovering.’

‘Yeah, he was really tired when we got back.’ He glanced at the box Julia was holding. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Oh, I made palmiers. I thought Christoph might like them. You can try one if you like.’

Daniel shook his head. ‘No thanks, they don’t really go with beer, but I’m sure they’re lovely.’ He glanced at Julia. ‘So, why are you doing all this cooking? For someone who was so averse to the kitchen, you’re spending a lot of time on it.’

Julia shifted uncomfortably on the chair. The recipe book was in her bag, like a secret incendiary device. The longer they went on not telling Daniel, the more she dreaded what his reaction might be. But at least she could tell him the other reason why she was cooking.

‘It’s partly to do with the piano,’ she said. ‘Before I came to Bonn, I played in a concert in London and messed up spectacularly. I’m hoping the distraction of cooking will help and give me something else to focus on other than the piano.’

Daniel put his beer down. ‘You messed up?’ he said, his face filled with concern. ‘What happened?’

Julia frowned. It was hard to relive it again. ‘My hands seized up. In front of everyone, I just got up and ran off the stage.’

‘Do you know what caused it? Can anything be done?’

Julia flexed her fingers and shrugged. ‘It’s not physical – I had it all checked out. My sister thinks I’ve been overdoing it since Mum died.’

‘Your mum died? I didn’t know that,’ Daniel said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It hasn’t been easy,’ Julia admitted. ‘But then, you know how it feels. You lost your mum not long ago too.’

‘It’s tough,’ Daniel said, glancing down. ‘I miss her.’

‘Were you with her when she died?’

Daniel nodded. ‘I spent days sleeping on a chair by her bedside. She didn’t give up without a fight. It was painful to witness.’

Julia sighed. ‘I wasn’t even there when Mum died. I was on tour. I still feel terrible about it. The piano was always a refuge, but then this thing with my hands started happening. Christoph thinks I’ve pushed myself too hard.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Cooking is a way of taking the pressure off.’

‘And is it helping?’ Daniel asked, leaning forward.

‘I don’t know, I’m staying away from the piano for now,’ Julia said. ‘In some ways, it’s quite nice to forget about playing for a while.’

Daniel raised his eyebrows. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that. The piano was everything to you, over and above anything else.’

His eyes fixed on hers. The air seemed to still. Julia’s mind flicked back to 1996. Her dedication to the piano had been the nub of all their arguments.

‘Well, things change,’ she said, glancing down at the table.

‘It was electrifying to hear you play. I really hope you can sort it out.’

The seriousness of his voice unnerved her. ‘Well, this time, I can’t blame anyone but myself for messing up on stage,’ she said, attempting to deflect his solemnity with humour. ‘There was no drunken man snogging his ex-girlfriend in the front row.’

It was supposed to be a joke about the recital he’d ruined back in 1996, but it came out all wrong. That was the problem with being around Daniel. The pain of what had happened between them was never far away.

Daniel’s face blanched. ‘Julia, I’m so sorry. Every time I remember that night, I’m filled with shame. I behaved appallingly.’

‘I don’t know why I said that,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I didn’t mean to bring it up. Just forget it, okay?’

‘No, you’re right to mention it,’ Daniel said. ‘It was awful. I’d had way too much to drink, and I just wasn’t thinking straight. I wish I could rewind time and do it all differently. It wasn’t anything personal against you.’

Julia frowned. That wasn’t how she remembered it. She didn’t want to start an argument, but she wasn’t going to let Daniel get away with brushing off the incident. The pain of it was still raw, even after all these years.

She raised a questioning eyebrow as she replied. ‘You deliberately stared at me after you’d kissed her. It felt personal.’

Daniel reddened. He straightened his back. ‘What about that night at the beer garden when you spent all night talking with Hans?’

‘Daniel, you were with Kat. I had no one else to talk to – it was hardly anything romantic. You can’t compare the two situations.’

He pressed his palms against the table. ‘Whenever we got closer, you edged away again.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ she protested.

‘Yes, it was. After that night when you made the fondue, you went all distant. You like to blame the whole thing on me disrupting your recital by kissing Kat. But the fact is, you used the piano as an excuse to push me away.’

Heat flared in Julia’s chest. It hadn’t been like that at all. He was remembering it all wrong.

‘No, I already had my doubts that time I saw you coming out of Christoph’s music room …’ She stopped just in time. He’d been counting the money in his hand. He’d shoved it in his back pocket when he caught sight of her on the stairs.

‘Saw me what?’ His eyes searched her face.

She couldn’t face going over it. She choked back the emotion and cleared her throat. ‘Nothing. Forget it. Now isn’t the time.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s what I mean. It’s never the right time with you.’

Julia swallowed, blinking back tears. She didn’t know what to say. It was impossible to try and make him understand. She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s just leave it, Daniel. I’m thinking of Christoph. Maybe you should too.’ She knew the words would upset him, but it was the only way to end the conversation and veer away from the unspoken truth which could hurt them both.