Chapter 9
9
The next day, by some miracle I arrive at Ephemera early. The neighbouring stalls are shuttered. The halls are bereft of customers so I open my laptop and set about designing a feedback survey for Paris Cupid while no one is here to catch me. My set-in stone rules forbidding working on the site at the market are a thing of the past as I struggle to keep up with demand.
Ideally, I’d like to send the survey to all members – their happiness in the game of love is my main priority – but there’s no time while I’m still assessing the influx of current applications and debating whether I will pause new applications for a while in order to keep a handle on it.
Last night, I didn’t have the heart to close Paris Cupid to new applicants but I regret that when I open the portal to find so many more have come in overnight. I shelve the feedback survey for a moment and draft a statement explaining Paris Cupid will be suspended for a brief period of time because we’re at capacity while our dedicated, but small, team work through current applications.
My chest tightens when I post the statement and disable the application process. Mostly, I worry about those types who have decided to give love one last chance, and I’ve pulled the rug from under them.
I return to the feedback survey. One of the last questions I type is: Have you found the one? I add the Paris Cupid rules at the end and a gentle reminder they were made to protect all members and suggest they take a minute to familiarise themselves with them again. After a quick proofread, I send it to both émilienne’s and Emmanuel’s emails and hope they’ll take the time to fill them out. Truthfully, I’m intrigued.
What if Emmanuel has had an about-face so dramatic that he does really love émilienne? For her sake, I hope it’s true. But there’s still that gnawing feeling in my gut that he has some ulterior motive. I pack my laptop away and tamp down my sadness about the suspension of Paris Cupid.
It’s my turn to buy Felix a café crème. I text him to ask if he’s close to the Marché Dauphine and he replies he’s a few minutes away. I lock up and stroll towards the outdoor café. It’s bustling with other vendors sitting down to hearty breakfasts before the busy work day begins in earnest. I wave to a few familiar faces. When florist Coraline shrieks ‘Bonjour!’ and gestures to me to join her, I pretend to be absorbed reading the blackboard.
Coraline jogs over, frown marring her brow. ‘Didn’t you see me waving to you?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t. Can’t chat long, I’m in a bit of a hurry because?—’
She ploughs ahead, not listening to a word I say. ‘Did you hear the latest news about Emmanuel?’
I let out an exaggerated sigh. Why is she so obsessed with him? She’s like a dog with a bone. ‘What now?’
Coraline makes a show of contorting her features as if she’s about to impart some very grave news. She pulls up a website on her phone and says, ‘His public relations team released a statement last evening, and I quote: “Emmanuel Roux is retiring from his acting career effective immediately. He intends to focus on his new great passion: spirituality.” What have you got to say about that?’ She pockets the phone and folds her arms, giving me the mother of all stare downs as if I personally had something to do with Emmanuel’s retirement from acting.
I can’t help it; I laugh at Coraline’s overblown reaction. You’d think Emmanuel was someone important in her life and not a celebrity she’s never met, the way she’s dramatizing it.
‘I would say: “Congratulations and thanks for the memories”? What else is there to say and what does it have to do with me?’
I can’t help but wonder, once again, could he actually be in love with émilienne? Is that what has made him reconsider his career, his celebrity status? My heart expands at the thought. Does Emmanuel truly want to leave the glitzy celebrity world for a more authentic life? Or is this all just a PR stunt? Who knows what the movie biz lifestyle is really like on the inside. It could very well be a soul-sucking shallow existence, a toxic environment that Emmanuel didn’t know how to extricate himself from until émilienne happened along. A girl can dream.
‘Allez, Lilou! Don’t you see what’s happening in front of your very eyes?’ Coraline’s emphasis on the word is downright noxious. ‘Parisians are in mourning today, and you’re flouncing around like it doesn’t matter.’
La vache! The flea market is like a small town, and like any small town there’s the requisite local gossip who thrives on drama, and here it’s Coraline. Furthermore, if rumours are sparse, like they are at the moment, she is clearly quite happy to jump on the celebrity bandwagon and embellish. ‘In mourning – he’s not dead!’
She inhales sharply. ‘That silly little matchmaking site is to blame. He meets a… a commoner, and now he’s renouncing his craft! You can’t tell me it’s not linked. It’s obvious this mystery woman has her claws in deep to convince him to make such a terrible decision. Everyone is talking about it.’
It’s impossible not to guffaw. ‘A commoner? He doesn’t have royal blood! Have you ever considered the facts, as boring as they are? Twilight Dream has been running for the last fifteen years – that’s a long time for a TV series. He’s done a number of movies as well. Could it be he’s just exhausted?’
‘You’re not taking this seriously!’ Her face reddens. ‘And hang on, how do you know so much about him all of a sudden? The other day you had no idea who I was talking about.’
Merde! Miraculously I manage to keep my expression neutral. ‘His face has been plastered across every tabloid in every newsstand in Paris, not to mention the amount of live interviews he’s given over the last little while. I can’t even turn on the TV without him popping up and, to be honest, I’m so sick of hearing about him.’ I add just enough frustration to my voice in the hopes she’ll believe me.
That was a close call. Too close. If Coraline had the merest hint that it’s me behind Paris Cupid she wouldn’t stop until she had proof, and then all of France would know. I soften my expression. ‘I’m sure Parisians are going to miss him on their screens every evening, but perhaps he’s retiring for his own sanity and we must support that.’
Mollified, she gives me a small smile. ‘For someone retiring, he really has done a lot of media lately.’
That’s what makes me so anxious about the whole scenario. Why does he constantly need to share his private life at every opportunity when he tells each reporter he’s looking forward to leaving the spotlight, while he sits directly under one? It doesn’t ring true.
‘Going out with a bang.’
‘Possibly. Au revoir.’ Coraline spins on her heel, flicking her mane of black hair over her shoulder. I step towards the counter and order two café crèmes to go and can’t help but continue to muse about the retirement announcement. Is it legitimate?