The Paris Trip: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

CHAPTER THREE

Her hands in her jacket pockets, Maeve waited with a fake smile on her face until his car had disappeared out of view before making her way to the door. She didn’t want him to suspect how vulnerable she felt. Which was silly. If she couldn’t accept help now, of all times, when could she? There was being independent and there was being pointlessly wilful, and perhaps this time she was erring on the wrong side of stubborn.

The embassy did indeed look shut for the night, with only a few dim lights visible through narrow windows. But there were two uniformed security guards patrolling outside the closed front entrance door to the embassy who gave her sharp assessing looks as she approached the building.

One guard barred her way, saying in English, ‘Sorry, Miss, but the embassy is closed now. You’ll need to call the out of hours helpline.’ He pointed to a sign on the wall.

‘I don’t have a phone.’

He looked taken aback. ‘I suggest you come back in the morning, then.’

‘But this is an emergency.’ Briefly, she explained her situation, and the man listened carefully, and then turned away to make a quick phone call.

When he came back, he shook his head, looking glum.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ he repeated, ‘but no one’s free to see you tonight. There’s a private embassy party going on and most staff have the night off.’

Fury flashed through her. ‘Marvellous. I do hope there’s dancing. And fruit punch.’

The guard pulled a face. ‘I can see you’re upset. But nobody’s actually dead, you see, so… ‘

‘I might be dead if I have to hang about the streets of Paris all night with nowhere to sleep,’ she pointed out. ‘I have no money and no documents.’

‘I understand that, yes.’ He shuffled his feet, looking embarrassed. ‘Look, the best I can suggest is for you to wait outside here until first thing in the morning. Not ideal, but that would guarantee you being seen as early as possible. Besides, perhaps someone will become available before then if you wait? You’ll be pretty safe here. Especially with us about.’ His grin died at her stern expression, and he glanced nervously up at the clear dark skies above the city rooftops instead. ‘At least it’s not likely to rain tonight.’

With only a perfunctory word of thanks, she stomped away down the street, cross and dispirited, before realizing that she still had nowhere to go and no money. She walked for some time, trying to put off the inevitable. But there was only one thing she could do, unless she wanted to spend the whole night outside. She was growing chilly and felt bone-tired. Besides, Leo’s card was burning a hole in her pocket. And the last thing she needed was a hole in her pocket on top of everything else…

Swearing under her breath, she returned to the guard and asked with restrained politeness if she could use his phone to make a local call.

‘Hello?’ she said rather breathlessly when the ring tone stopped. ‘Is… Is that Monsieur Rémy?’

There was a short silence. Then Leo asked in a deep, abrupt voice, ‘Maeve?’

Briefly, trying to sound calm and in control, though in fact she was frankly terrified and exhausted, Maeve explained her situation.

‘It seems no one can deal with me until tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I’ve no money and nothing to wear except the clothes on my back. I know this is a huge inconvenience but you said if I needed help that I could call you. And I was just wondering if…’ She tailed off, horribly embarrassed. Good grief. What on earth was she thinking, asking this Frenchman, this complete stranger to help her out? She must’ve been mad even to consider such a thing. Maybe it was the bang on the head… ‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered, ‘I shouldn’t have called. It’s nothing to do with you, Monsieur Rémy. Please forget what I said.’

‘No, of course I’ll help you. It would be my pleasure, Mademoiselle.’

Even though she’d asked for his help in the first place, Maeve cringed inwardly, wishing she had the strength to decline. But she was simply too tired and distressed to turn him down. She’d always been fiercely independent and loathed relying on other people. But right now she badly needed someone to lend a hand, even if it was only to offer her a bed for the night. And maybe a cup of tea.

Goodness, she would kill for a nice hot cup of tea.

‘I’ll come back and collect you,’ Leo went on smoothly. ‘You can stay here with us. We have plenty of room. Are you still at the Embassy? I’m on the other side of the city from you, I’m afraid, and in my pyjamas now. So it’ll take maybe an hour to sort things out here and come to get you. Can you manage alone for an hour?’

‘Absolutely. I’ll walk up and down, or around the block a few times. Oh, but you are amazing… Thank you so much. You’re sure it’s not an inconvenience?’

‘Not at all.’ Leo sounded amused rather than annoyed. ‘I’ll let my grandmother know at once. She’s gone to bed but I’m sure she’ll still be awake. She’s been fretting about you ever since she got home. Trust me, this news will cheer her up.’ And with that, he rang off.

She handed the phone back to the security guard. ‘I’ve found a bed for the night,’ she told him, and saw the man’s brows shoot up. She didn’t know what he was thinking but she could guess by the cynical look in his eyes. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she added shortly, determined to stay polite. ‘I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.’

He touched his cap. ‘Goodnight, Miss.’

Maeve set off on a leisurely walk around the block, keeping within well-lit areas only, as she didn’t like the idea of standing around on a street corner. The last thing she needed was to be mistaken for someone touting for trade. Though the guard had assured her it was a respectable area, so she ought to be safe enough.

She walked as slowly as possible without actually grinding to a halt, sometimes whistling or humming under her breath to appear cheerful to passers-by, and constantly checking over her shoulder. Lightning might rarely strike twice but she still felt vulnerable since being targeted by a snatch-and-grab biker.

Respectable the area might be, but her heart was thumping the whole way and it was hard to stay calm. The occasional motorbike that came zooming along the quiet Parisian street made her stiffen and draw back against the wall, glaring after each unfortunate rider in case it was her thief. But nobody else attacked her. Passers-by mostly ignored her, in fact, absorbed in their own thoughts, hurrying home from a late work shift or some evening entertainment, and fifteen minutes later she was safely back outside the embassy.

The guards grinned as she passed them again, heading around the block for a second time, walking more briskly now and swinging her arms, for the night was growing chilly and she was only wearing a light summer jacket.

Thank goodness she’d chosen jeans for today’s excursion to the Louvre rather than shorts. It might be full summer, but it still would have been a bit on the nippy side, strolling about the capital at night with bare legs.

I’m in my pyjamas…

Had Leo Rémy really said that on the phone?

She felt guilty at the thought of having disturbed him on his way to bed, poor man. But also knew a jolt of curiosity, envisaging him in some stylish, belted dressing-gown that stopped mid-thigh.

Good Lord.

Her mind needed to be cleaned out with wire wool.

At last, on her fourth time around the block, feeling weary and bored, a car pulled up sharply behind her in a side street.

Startled, Maeve jumped back from the kerb, fists up and ready to do battle with some unknown assailant. Struggling for a stringent French phrase to use against some would-be attacker, she was embarrassed to see Leo Rémy gazing coolly back at her through the open driver’s window.

‘Get in,’ he said unceremoniously, for his large, expensive vehicle was blocking the narrow street and another car had already come up behind them, the man behind the wheel sounding his horn despite it being past midnight.

‘Parisian drivers are so impatient,’ she grumbled, climbing in beside her rescuer, and then bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. That probably sounded horribly rude. You’re a Parisian driver too, aren’t you?’

Leo shot her an enigmatic look, accelerating away with barely a glance in his rear view mirror for the car behind. ‘Put your seat belt on,’ was all he said.

So, fumbling with her seat belt, Maeve found herself back in Leo Rémy’s increasingly familiar car, this time heading at speed through dark Parisian streets with no real idea how she was going to get through the next day or maybe two until this mess was sorted out. Somewhere out there, the coach tour would even now be on a boat back to England. If only she hadn’t gone round that corner to post her postcards. If only she had headed back to the coach earlier, or even at the last minute, and never walked down that stupid sidestreet…

They exploded out of an empty side street onto a far busier avenue, bright headlights blinding her as Leo threaded a path between swiftly moving vehicles without even slowing. Someone else honked a horn at them but Leo didn’t pay any attention, overtaking aggressively.

She wondered where all these people were going at such an early hour of the morning. Did nobody in Paris go to bed?

‘You drive awfully fast,’ she said out loud, without really thinking through how that would sound.

Rude, she realised a split-second late, grimacing. Very, very rude. And ungrateful. Yet again.

But it was said now.

He hesitated before answering, ‘This is my normal speed.’ He sounded mildly surprised.

Maeve tried not to say anything else about it. She pressed her lips tightly together and stared straight ahead. But as he weaved like a maniac through a busy intersection, almost hitting another equally fast-moving motorist and practically scraping the side of a lumbering night bus, she blurted out, ‘Do you have many accidents?’

‘Never.’ There was a short silence as he slowed for a red light ahead, which kindly turned back to green before they reached it. Though ‘slowed’ didn’t really sum up the jolting change from insanely fast to almost dead-stop, returning to insanely fast at such a pace that Maeve could have sworn she felt her brain hit the back of her head and rebound, wobbling painfully. ‘Well, perhaps once.’

‘Perhaps? Either you had an accident or you didn’t.’

‘It was the other driver’s fault.’

‘Oh, naturally.’

He flashed her a sharp look. ‘You know I’m doing you a favour, oui?’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

She felt ridiculously tearful again, and clasped her hands in her lap. Her empty hands. No purse with cash and cards to help her navigate the world like everyone else. No phone to check for messages or social media updates. No notebook crammed with important times and dates and instructions so she wouldn’t be late for whatever came next. Not even a bag containing a modicum of make-up, plus her sunglasses, lip balm, hand sanitiser, crossword book and other vital knick-knacks.

‘I didn’t mean to criticize you,’ she went on. ‘In fact, you’ve been marvellously kind, taking me in like this. I was just trying to distract myself.’

‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry.’ Leo slackened off his pace, turning a corner and heading uphill at a more reasonable speed. Which was still too fast for her. ‘I had forgotten how much slower the British drive. No wonder you were scared.’

‘Not scared,’ she said at once, sitting up straight, lips pursed. ‘I just thought maybe you were in training for a Formula One race.’

He laughed then, a hoarse bark of genuine amusement. ‘Now you sound like my grandmother.’

She sneaked a shy look at him, studying his lean, hawkish profile. ‘You know the UK well, then? I suppose you must. You speak very good English.’

‘My mother is British.’

‘Oh, really? Will I meet her? And your father?’

‘My father hasn’t lived with us in years.’ Leo was looking ahead, not at her, but she sensed a shift in atmosphere, his hands tightening on the wheel. She instantly regretted having made him uncomfortable. Her insatiable curiosity again, always asking questions… ‘And my mother is dead.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Now she felt awful.

‘No need to be. It was all a long time ago. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about your lost passport. I’ll drive you back to the embassy tomorrow morning and I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon enough.’ He paused, frowning. ‘But even if it takes another day or so, we’re very happy to put you up at Chateau Rémy. I left my sister Bernadette sorting out a guest room for you. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.’

Maeve stared at him, taken aback. Chateau Rémy? That sounded rather grand. ‘It must be a big house,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’m very grateful to your sister too. Are there many people living there, or just you, your grandmother and Bernadette?’

He bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. ‘I wish! No, we always have a full house at the chateau. Cousins, siblings, hangers-on.’ When she said nothing, feeling awkward, he glanced at her sideways. ‘I wasn’t including you in that category, of course. You are very welcome to stay. If you hadn’t so kindly stopped to help my grandmother, none of this would have happened to you. You would have been on that ferry back to England by now, n’est-ce pas?’

He really was rather good at reading her mind, she realised, which made her a little uneasy.

‘True, but I think that debt has been well and truly repaid by now, don’t you think? You and your family have been more than generous, Monsieur Rémy.’

‘Leo, please. But let’s not talk about my family. Between you and me, talking about my family gives me a headache. What about you? Is there anyone at home you need to contact? Mother? Father?’ His dark gaze flashed to her ring finger, which was bare. But he still added speculatively, ‘A boyfriend or husband expecting you off the boat tonight?’ He paused. ‘Or a girlfriend, perhaps?’

This made her gurgle with laughter. ‘No, no boyfriend or husband. And no, I’m not gay, so no girlfriend either. Plus, my parents are both dead.’

‘My apologies,’ he said gravely. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘Oh yes, you did.’

‘Well,’ he murmured, head on one side as he considered that possibility, ‘maybe a little.’

‘Oh, un peu?’

‘Peut-être,’ he agreed smoothly, his lips twitching.

‘You are insufferable.’

‘It has been said.’ Unexpectedly, Leo slammed on the brakes and reversed at speed into a tiny parking space, leaving the car bumper to bumper with others in the narrow Parisian side street. ‘Here we are. Chateau Rémy is just around the corner. I’m afraid we sold off the parking area to generate cash, so we have to park wherever we can now.’ He got out of the car, and she scrambled out after him, peering about the dark street in confusion. ‘Follow me, mademoiselle.’

They walked across the road from his parking place and up a steep, narrow, cobbled alleyway. Maeve blinked. Could she see turrets up ahead?

Sure enough, the looming shapes in the darkness were revealed to be turrets, surreal and unlikely in a busy Parisian street, somehow squeezed in between stately apartment buildings and modern office and shopping blocks. The turrets, picked out by multiple spotlights set at ground level, were topped with red-tiled circular roofs above high stone walls blanketed in thick, ivy-like creepers.

Like something out of a fairy tale, she thought, glancing at her host’s back.

Who was he?