The Paris Affair

22 Julia

22

Julia

July, 2002 – Paris

Julia sat with Christoph on a bench in the Tuileries, sparrows pecking the gravel at their feet. The scent of lavender wafted on the air. Christoph’s face was haggard. He was up one minute – buoyed by the latest recollections – and down the next, saddened by the fact that his mind could go no further.

‘Sylvie was a chink of light in the darkness. I loved talking to her. If she was prepared to give me the time of day, perhaps I wasn’t beyond redemption,’ he said. He rubbed his forehead. ‘What was I doing, Julia? I had a fiancée back in Germany, but I’d invited Sylvie out to dinner. In the middle of a war filled with atrocities. I don’t know what made me do it.’

Julia thought of Daniel. The pull towards him was magnetic, despite everything that had happened. ‘Maybe you couldn’t help it.’

‘The feelings I had were so strong,’ He gripped the top of his walking stick. ‘The memories aren’t enough; they make me miss her.’

Julia bit her pen. She’d made notes while Christoph had been talking about how he’d got to know Sylvie. ‘Coming to Paris was supposed to help you, not make you feel worse.’

Christoph turned to her, his eyes moist. ‘Oh Julia, it’s not that simple. Now I’ve begun to remember, I want to know it all.’

Julia stared at her notebook. The memories were a jumble of recollections. Things came to Christoph in a rush or with painful slowness. Sometimes he lingered on a particular detail: the maps in his office, or the way Sylvie chopped onions at lightning speed. At other times, he spoke with a burst of fervour.

‘Perhaps it’s time to involve Daniel,’ she said, twisting the pen in her hand. ‘I think he suspects something.’

Christoph sighed. ‘If you tell him, this whole thing will have to stop.’

‘But why?’ Julia asked. ‘It all happened so long ago, before he was born, before you were even married.’

‘I was here in Paris with Daniel once. I don’t know where the memory fits in, Julia, but he must have been little because I recall the feel of his hand in mine as we walked through the streets, our closeness. But something must have happened. We were never so close again. For some reason, Paris became a place I never went to or mentioned.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m thankful he even agreed to come here. We have to keep the recipe book a secret, Julia, please. I don’t want to stir up an argument I can’t remember.’

Julia nodded. ‘I will, but only if you promise to have those tests done when we get back to Bonn. We need to understand what’s going on inside your mind.’

Christoph’s head drooped. She hated to insist, but the recollections were clearly distressing. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘if you promise not to say anything to Daniel, I’ll do the tests.’

Julia gazed at her sprawly handwriting and unruly sentences. She wondered what it all meant and where it was leading. One thing was certain, they couldn’t stop now.

Later in the afternoon, while Christoph slept, Julia went to Bar 228 in Le Meurice and ordered a gin and tonic. The alcohol relaxed the tension in her shoulders. Among the frescoes, dark wood and painted ceiling she was tucked away from the world outside. Soft jazz played in the background and elegant couples sat chatting on deep leather chairs.

This next recipe was complicated. Canard à la rouennaise, duck in red wine sauce. Julia wasn’t sure how to approach it. It was beyond her capabilities, and she was wary of arousing Daniel’s suspicions.

Julia sipped her drink and studied the notes Sylvie had written in the margins. Her handwriting was splattered with dark red droplets.

First meal I ate with C. Dinner at La Tour d’Argent. Always wanted to try this dish, and it’s their speciality.

What had Sylvie felt: a Frenchwoman in occupied France, having dinner with a German soldier? Women who had affairs with Germans were punished after the war: their hair shaved off, their shame visible to all. Is that why Christoph felt guilty? It was impossible to know until he remembered more.

‘Hello.’ Julia heard a voice behind her. ‘Can I sit down?’

It was Daniel. Julia slid the recipe book off the bar before he could see it and tucked it into her bag. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just contemplating my next cooking adventure.’

Daniel ordered a beer. ‘What are you planning to make this time?’

‘Canard à la rouennaise,’ Julia said, ‘but it’s out of my league. It needs a special contraption to squeeze the duck carcass.’

‘I’ve heard of that,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it a speciality at La Tour d’Argent?’

That was the restaurant Sylvie had mentioned. ‘Have you been?’

‘No, but someone at work went on his honeymoon and he raved about it.’

‘Oh,’ Julia said. ‘Do they still make it?’

‘I believe so. He said it was a long-standing tradition there.’ He smoothed the condensation off the bottle. ‘We could take Christoph, if you like. I’m not a fine dining expert, but if it would help this culinary odyssey you two seem to be on, I’d be happy to accompany you.’ He hesitated. ‘Unless you’d rather go without me.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You and Christoph are as thick as thieves; you always have been. I saw you both chatting today in the Tuileries. It looked very intense.’

Julia thought guiltily of Sylvie’s recipe book, of the deeply personal memories that Christoph had shared with her. ‘It’s not like that at all.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Well, that’s how it feels sometimes.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Look, can I ask you something?’

Julia nodded, wondering what was on his mind.

‘I know this sounds crazy, but all these recipes you keep thinking of, are they coming from a specific book?’

Julia stared at him. Her breath grew shallow. ‘What makes you think that?’

Daniel turned the beer bottle and thought for a moment.

‘When Mama was dying, she was fixated on some recipe book, said it had almost ruined their marriage. She described the tatty old cover and handwritten recipes and warned me that, for Papa’s own peace of mind, it was all best left in the past. She told me she’d hidden it, somewhere he’d never find it.’

Julia’s heart beat faster. Hilde had known about the recipe book; she must have put it in the cupboard, and now it was sitting in Julia’s bag. Her stomach twisted at the thought of lying to Daniel. She was torn between wanting to tell him the truth and her loyalty to Christoph.

‘I’m just making things I hope Christoph will eat, things that might remind him of his past here in Paris, or his upbringing in Germany. That’s why I’m looking for more traditional dishes,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘The canard à la rouennaise caught my eye because it’s made using such an unusual method.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yes,’ Julia said, trying to hold his gaze.

Daniel breathed out. ‘Okay, sorry, I just had to check. I don’t want him to stumble on anything that would upset him.’

‘No, of course not. Me neither.’ She took a gulp of the gin and tonic, hoping the subject was closed. ‘I think Christoph would like it if we all went to that restaurant.’

Daniel glanced up. ‘All right, see if he wants to go. If I’m around, I’ll come too.’

‘Where else would you be?’

He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going far. I’m heading out to Normandy tomorrow to see an organic farm. That trip to the market got me thinking. I need to do some research.’

‘What kind of research?’ She liked this side to Daniel, his passion about his future.

‘When I was travelling in India I went to an amazing organic farm in Chennai. It started off as a village farm making organic cheese from the cows and buffalo that grazed there, but eventually the city sprawled around it.’ He sighed. ‘I was sceptical at the time about whether they’d survive. I’d done my college course in food production, and organic was seen as niche and low yield, but they’re still going today.’

‘So, if you bought the farm in Effelsberg, you’d want to make it organic.’

‘Yes, seeing that market yesterday made me realize that I have a real vision for it. At the time, travelling was just a way of escaping from place to place, but when I look back at the knowledge I picked up, it’s all linked to farming sustainably, growing quality produce.’

His enthusiasm sparkled in his eyes. Julia smiled. ‘It sounds like you’re on a mission.’

‘Yeah, I don’t want people to think I’m all talk and no action,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m determined to make you think well of me, Julia.’

She looked up slowly and met his eyes. His proximity radiated around her, sending a ripple of warmth across her skin. Her breath tightened.

‘Why do you care what I think?’ she said.

He reached over and lifted a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘Because we both know this thing between us isn’t finished,’ he said. ‘That’s why.’

It was impossible to look away. Julia’s heart thudded. ‘I’m not sure we can turn the clock back …’

A familiar voice called across the bar. ‘Julia, at last! They told me I’d find you here.’

It was Sebastian, a holdall in his hand, sunglasses on his head.

Daniel’s face went white and he swiftly moved away from her. ‘What’s he doing here?’

‘I don’t know …’ Julia’s head was spinning. Sebastian and Daniel hadn’t seen each other since the recital. The recital was supposed to mark the start of her career. She had played the piece she’d been practising for weeks, but when she had caught sight of Daniel kissing his ex-girlfriend Kat in the front row she’d frozen. It was Sebastian who had hauled Daniel, drunk and belligerent, out of the auditorium.

Now, Sebastian kissed her on both cheeks and nodded curtly at Daniel.

‘I’m only in Paris for a few hours,’ he said to Julia. ‘I have a flight back to London at midnight. I thought I’d spend some time with my favourite client in between.’

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Julia said. ‘How did it go in Prague?’ She glanced at Daniel. His jaw was clenched. We both know this thing between us isn’t finished. Had he really just said that? Sebastian’s arrival had caused the moment to evaporate.

‘It was great. Tanja did brilliantly. What are you doing tonight? I’d like to take you out to dinner.’ He glanced reluctantly at Daniel. ‘You too, Daniel, with Christoph, if he’s well enough.’

‘We were just talking about trying to get a table at La Tour d’Argent,’ Julia said.

‘Perfect. I’ll book a table for four and hope that Christoph can come too,’ Sebastian said. ‘Now, let’s have another drink. Two white wines, please, and Daniel, another beer?’

Daniel eyed up Julia’s gin and tonic and raised an eyebrow at Sebastian’s presumptuousness in ordering her wine. ‘No, thanks. I need to check on Papa.’ He banged his beer down and strode away.

Sebastian glanced at Julia. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

‘No, your timing was perfect.’

Julia took a last swig of her gin and tonic. She needed to come to her senses. This break was supposed to be about sorting herself out and resting in preparation for the next part of the tour, not to mention supporting Christoph. Things were too complicated with Daniel, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.

Julia checked her reflection in the full-length mirror before she left the hotel room. Her dress was electric blue with diamante cuffs and, normally, it gave her courage. Tonight was about taking Christoph to the restaurant where he’d had his first date with Sylvie. But it was impossible not to be nervous about how Daniel and Sebastian would get on.

Sebastian was waiting for them in the bar of La Tour d’Argent. He kissed Julia and turned to the barman. ‘Can I order some champagne, please? Four glasses.’

‘Not for me. I’ll just have a beer,’ Daniel said, his hands in his pockets.

‘Of course,’ Sebastian said.

There was no eye contact between the two men, save a brief nod of greeting. Julia felt the tension, particularly from Daniel, who sipped his beer and glanced around the room.

‘It’s good to see you again, Herr Baumann.’ Sebastian shook Christoph’s hand and handed him a glass of champagne. ‘I’m glad to see you’re looking well.’

‘That’s Julia’s doing,’ Christoph said.

Sebastian smiled and passed Julia her glass, clinking it with his own. ‘I remember when I first heard Julia play. She took my breath away. She still does. There was one concert, in Madrid, when she surpassed all my expectations.’

Julia tried not to catch his eye at the mention of Madrid.

‘That’s exactly what I thought the first time I heard her play.’ Christoph smiled. ‘I’d sworn not to take on any more students, but with Julia, I just knew she was special.’

Julia blushed, feeling the warmth of Sebastian’s gaze. It was hard not to wonder what Daniel made of it all. She wished the waiter would hurry up and take them to their table.

‘Julia tells me you’ve been very understanding about her taking a break,’ Christoph said.

‘I know how hard she’s been working. It’s not an easy time to stop, but I trust Julia to know her own mind. She’s remarkable.’ Sebastian raised his glass to her and smiled.

Daniel made a noise, something between a snort and a cough.

‘What is it you do now, Daniel?’ Sebastian said, turning to him. ‘Last I heard, you were knee-deep in the prairies.’

Daniel shrugged and leaned against the bar. ‘Farming’s my passion. And travelling.’ He took a long swig of beer, gripping the bottle tightly.

‘How nice to have the freedom,’ Sebastian said pointedly.

Thankfully, the waiter came to take them to the table, bringing the champagne bottle in an ice bucket. Daniel carried his half-finished bottle of beer. Julia took Christoph’s arm and helped him into the chair. The huge bay windows of the La Tour d’Argent revealed a view bristling with rooftops. In the distance, purple clouds bruised the sky. Christoph stared for a moment, taking it in.

‘I remember this view.’ He glanced at Daniel. ‘I had dinner here once, back in the 1940s. The skyline was different then, not so many streetlights and high-rise buildings.’

‘How did you come to be at such a fancy restaurant?’ Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair. ‘I thought you were just an administrator.’

Julia looked over at Christoph. How would he answer that question?

‘Someone up the chain of command couldn’t make their reservation, so I went with a work colleague.’

Daniel seemed to accept this explanation.

‘What was it like in Paris back then?’ Daniel asked.

Christoph smoothed his tie against his shirt. ‘I didn’t like being here as an occupier. Even though I had a desk job, I witnessed some horrific things on the march to France, and while I was here. I felt deeply uncomfortable about what the Nazis were doing.’

‘When were you here?’ Sebastian asked. The waiter poured the rest of the champagne.

Christoph frowned and glanced at Julia. ‘Help me out,’ he said. ‘The dates aren’t quite so fixed in my mind.’

‘Well, you recall being around when the round-ups at Le Vel’ d’Hiv took place,’ Julia said. She turned to Sebastian and Daniel. ‘He was walking nearby and heard the cries of the people inside. The round-up of Jews happened in July 1942, so he must have been here then.’

‘My God,’ Sebastian said. ‘That’s awful.’

‘It was unimaginable what those people went through,’ Christoph said, his voice heavy with sorrow. ‘There was nothing I could do. I knew I felt deep shame about being here in Paris, but now I understand why. It’s a memory I wish I could forget.’

Daniel’s brow creased with concern. ‘That’s a lot for you to process, especially when you’re just recovering.’ He glanced at Julia. ‘You need to be careful about what memories are triggered by Papa being here.’

‘I can’t decide what he’s going to remember and what he’ll forget,’ Julia said, sensing his criticism. ‘If that was the case, there are a few memories of my own I’d happily erase.’

She locked eyes with Daniel. He must have known she was referring to the recital. The shame of that night – not only professionally, but emotionally – had stayed with her for a long time. The studio had been filled with musicians, and a potential manager, Sebastian. It wasn’t so much that he’d been kissing Kat that put her off her stride, it was the look he gave her afterwards. As if he wanted to hurt her for choosing the piano over a relationship with him.

Daniel looked down at the table. ‘I’m sure we’ve all got things we’d rather forget.’

‘It’s helped, talking to Julia,’ Christoph said. ‘I don’t feel so confused by everything. We’re taking it slowly, remembering it bit by bit.’

‘Well,’ Sebastian said, stroking Julia’s arm. ‘Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s missed the Prague concert if having her here is helping you, Christoph.’

Daniel cleared his throat and signalled to the waiter for another beer. As soon as it came, he downed most of it in one go.

Sebastian glanced at Julia and raised his eyebrows. She knew what he was thinking: this was like the recital, when Daniel had drunk too much. But something was bothering him, she could tell.

‘Take it easy,’ she said, hoping to smooth the waters.

‘Sorry,’ Daniel muttered.

The waiter arrived with a trolley. The press, containing the cooked carcass of the duck, stood in the centre. The waiter twisted it and the metal crushed the duck, sending blood trickling out.

Sebastian grimaced. ‘Amazing that something so brutal can taste so good. They’ll use the blood to make the sauce for the meat. It’s delicious.’

The waiter wheeled the trolley back to the kitchen for the final stage of cooking.

‘I’m glad I didn’t have to make that,’ Julia said. ‘Thanks for arranging a table.’

Sebastian kissed her hand. ‘Anything for you.’ She knew the gesture meant nothing. He always did it before she went on stage. But Daniel was staring at her, consternation in his eyes.

She tried not to notice. This was Christoph’s evening. Music tinkled in the background; voices murmured intimately. She wanted to imagine what it would have been like for Sylvie and Christoph all those years ago, but Daniel’s presence was like static in the air.

Daniel stood up. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling great. I think I’ll go back to the hotel.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Christoph said, alarmed.

Daniel placed his napkin down. ‘I’m sorry, Papa, I just can’t do this. I thought coming to Paris was about you and me reconnecting, but sitting like this, listening to you talk, I’m not really sure why I’m here.’

‘But …’

‘Sorry, Papa.’ Daniel headed towards the stairs.

Sebastian ordered another bottle of champagne. Julia looked at the empty seat. She couldn’t leave it like this. ‘Sorry, I’ll be back in a minute.’

She caught up with Daniel in the street. A half-moon shone down between gaps in the buildings. Cars sped by: a river of red tail lights in the night-time traffic. It was raining.

‘Daniel!’ she called. He turned round. He’d forgotten to bring a jacket and his shirt was splattered with raindrops. ‘What’s going on? This was supposed to be a nice evening.’

‘Until Sebastian showed up.’

‘He got us the table. It was kind of him.’

‘It’s not just that. I just couldn’t bear to sit there any longer and feel like the outsider with my own father. I should know these details of his past. He should have told me.’ Daniel pushed his hair back. In the streetlight, his face was half in shadow. ‘Paris isn’t a good place for us. It never was.’

‘I think he’s just wary of making things worse between you,’ Julia said. ‘Don’t just give up. That’s not like you.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Daniel said. ‘Look, maybe you’re right. We can’t turn back the clock.’

‘Then why did you say we’re not finished, in the bar earlier?’

He gazed at her, his eyes pained. ‘I don’t know. I thought maybe something was still there. But after Sebastian arrived it seemed a foolish idea.’

‘Why does he bother you so much?’

‘I’ve seen how he looks at you. Something’s happened between you two, I can tell.’

Julia hesitated. What could she say? It was just one stupid kiss last year. It didn’t mean anything.

‘I knew it,’ Daniel said. ‘The moment I saw him at the recital – successful, handsome, charming – I knew I never stood a chance.’

‘Daniel, that’s not fair. You had other people too.’

‘In fact, I knew the day we first met that I could never fully capture your attention.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We were waiting with the little lost girl in the station office in Bonn while everyone looked for her mum. We played Hangman to distract her, do you remember? It was fun, and I thought you and me had a connection, but you kept looking at your watch as if you had somewhere else to be.’ He paused and drew in his breath. ‘I wrote the last Hangman for you as a message, but you never finished guessing it. The little girl’s mother showed up, and gathered her in her arms, and when I asked if you wanted to know what the Hangman phrase was you said you didn’t have time. You couldn’t get away from the station fast enough.’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ Julia said, frustrated. She’d had no idea that Daniel was Christoph’s son at that point; she hadn’t even known his name. Julia had felt the connection too, from the moment his eyes had met hers when they’d teamed up to look after the girl. But by the time the girl’s mother arrived, Julia was already two hours late to meet Christoph. No matter how tempted she was to stay and get to know this handsome stranger, Julia couldn’t risk starting off on the wrong footing with her new mentor, Herr Baumann.

‘If what you’d written was so important,’ she said, ‘why couldn’t you have just told me what it said? We’re not children, Daniel, playing games of Hangman. Sometimes you have to say what you want directly.’

Daniel wiped the rain from his cheek. ‘But even after you made the fondue and we kissed, I was never sure how you really felt. I wondered if something had happened to change your mind.’

Julia blinked in the rain. Something had happened to make her doubt him, even before the debacle of the recital.

‘I don’t know how to explain it. It was just …’ She remembered back to that morning. The dim light of the hallway. It had been just a few days after they’d talked late into the night, sharing the fondue and their first kiss. ‘I saw you coming out of Christoph’s music room with a handful of cash, hiding it in your back pocket. And then later, I heard you and Christoph arguing. He seemed to be accusing you of stealing it.’

‘You were spying on me?’ Daniel’s eyes narrowed.

‘No, of course not.’

‘That’s what it sounds like.’ He pressed his hand against his forehead. ‘So, all this time, you’ve believed I was a thief. Even before I messed up at the recital, you’d made up your mind about me. Jesus, I never stood a chance with you, did I? You’ll always think the worst.’

‘What am I supposed to think? The letter, the estate agent, the equity for the farm. These might be the last years of his life, and all you want is his money. You were never there for him, Daniel. You were always gallivanting around the world and only came back when you needed help.’

As soon as she’d said it, Julia knew she’d gone too far. It was all in the past. Why couldn’t she just leave it there?

Daniel’s cheeks were pinched, his eyes blazing. ‘If that’s your opinion of me, then I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.’

He turned and strode off, his shoulders hunched against the rain. Julia stared helplessly. It was too late to take her words back now.