Chapter 25
25
Benoit arrives with an inflatable collar for Minou and a backpack with a transparent viewing pouch.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ I ask.
‘Yes, a cat pack! You can place Minou inside. It’s got air vents and he can see out of all three sides in case he wants a walk and some fresh air. The woman at the pet shop said they’re very popular among Parisians. Although, she could have been just after another sale, who knows?’
I laugh imagining Minou trapped inside a see through backpack while I amble along the boulevards of Paris. ‘How much do I owe you?’
He hands me a receipt and the amount isn’t too bad considering. I find my purse and hand him some euros. ‘Thank you for doing this. Should we see if he’ll try the backpack?’
‘Oui.’
But Minou is nowhere to be found. ‘He must be here, I haven’t left the apartment today.’ We hunt high and low and part of me senses he’s watching us from some hidden vantage point, laughing at the show we’re putting on for him.
‘Are you sure he can’t have escaped somehow?’ Benoit asks, raking a hand through his thick dark hair.
‘I’m sure. I haven’t opened the balcony door and all the windows are locked. Do you think this is some kind of cat trickery? What if we stop searching for him and pretend we’re having a grand old time and see if he appears?’
Benoit’s eyes shine with mirth. ‘Do you think cats are that manipulative? Or is this the lack of sleep talking?’
I slap my forehead. ‘I sound like a crazy cat lady already and he hasn’t even been in my company for twenty-four hours. Imagine what I’ll be saying at the seven-day mark!’
With a laugh he takes a seat on the sofa. ‘Ah, I assume the fabric didn’t look like this yesterday?’ He points to the arm that looks like it had a run in with a cheese grater.
‘You assume correctly. I’m not sure how he managed to shred it so viciously when he’s only got a few claws left. Maybe it was a way to get his rage out after the cat fight? I tried to be supportive and show him the scratching post, but he turned his nose up at it, and I mean he literally put his nose in the air as if the contraption was beneath him.’
‘Cats, eh?’
I join Benoit on the sofa. ‘Any sign of him?’
He pretends to stretch as he gazes around the room. ‘Is that a paw?’ he whispers, tilting his head towards an umbrella stand.
Sure enough, behind the oversized ceramic vase I use as an umbrella stand, a tabby paw sticks out. ‘We see you, Minou.’ At that he sticks his head up over the stand and gives us a wide smile. Can cats smile?
I stand and say, ‘I better move that before he breaks – Minou, no!’ I dive across the space hoping to catch the oversized vase before it smashes to the floor but I don’t quite make the distance. The pot lands safely – upon my head.
‘Aie!’
The tabby terror sprints from the living room to wherever his next hellscape is.
‘Are you OK?’ Benoit helps me up from the parquetry floor. I’m slightly dazed as I sit on the sofa once more, rubbing the back of my head with my hand.
Benoit presses his lips tightly together.
‘What’s that face for?’ I ask. Minou has got me on edge. I dart around this way and that looking for his next surprise attack.
‘It’s… it’s…’ The dam breaks and Benoit dissolves into laughter.
‘This is funny to you?’ I say, hiding a smile.
‘Sorry, sorry, it’s not funny. It’s only that I’ve never seen a cat engage in warfare quite like this before and the way you threw your entire body across the room, well, I’ve never seen any human airborne like that before either.’
Soon we both break into the kind of hysterical laughter that takes forever to get hold of. When we’re finally composed I say, ‘Was he smiling? Or did the bump to the head do some real damage and I’m imagining that?’
‘It was a smile, but more of the maniacal kind.’
‘OK, that’s only slightly alarming,’ I say. Minou saunters over, casually as anything, and springs up on my lap, kneading the leg of my jeans as if we’re the best of friends. ‘Aww, this is the first time he’s sat on my lap.’
‘These are clearly just teething problems and he’s already learning that he’s safe here.’ Minou accepts a pat from Benoit. ‘But I’m not putting him in the backpack and risking him hating me.’
I grin. ‘Me neither. We’ll leave that contraption for Guillaume. Minou might be a cat but I think he categorises himself more as a human, and I can’t quite see him enjoying being bundled up in a cat backpack, and he would not suffer in indignity of such a thing!’
The turncoat moves from my lap to Benoit’s, resting his body on his chest and tucking his head into his neck. It’s adorable and gives me hope that Minou just might settle in as a house cat.
‘While you’re getting him off to sleep, shall I make apero?’ I ask.
Apero is usually taken in the space after work, the lull before dinner. It comprises a few drinks served with finger food and is a great excuse to catch up with friends without ruining your appetite for dinner. Most Parisians practise this tradition once a week or so. Any time is a good time for apero.
‘Apero sounds great. I’ve got a feeling I might be stuck here for a while.’ It’s hard not to soften at the sight of Minou sprawled across Benoit, trusting him implicitly when really he’s not the affectionate type, not like Marmalade who loves being rocked like a baby.
I’m still not convinced Minou will acclimatise to a domestic arrangement, but I hope he does.
I go to the kitchen and take some brie, a wedge of Roquefort and some grapes and pile them on to a platter. I realise too late that I don’t have a baguette, which is a crime in Paris when you’re serving cheese.
‘Benoit, I’m just going to the boulangerie on the corner for a baguette. Will you be all right for a few minutes with Minou?’ Part of me doesn’t trust the tabby terror won’t create a ruckus while I’m gone and then pretend nothing happened.
‘Oui. I’m not going to move a muscle, so he can rest.’
I take my purse and tiptoe out of the apartment, clicking the door softly closed.
At the boulangerie, I grab a baguette and a citron tart. It’s only when I’m almost back home that I question the fact I’ve left a virtual stranger inside my apartment. We’ve shared a few conversations across the hall and a last-minute dinner, but I don’t really know Benoit all that well. Still, what can he do? Not much while the cat has him pinned to the sofa. And he’s too sweet to be the type to snoop. It’s always at the back of my mind that Paris Cupid is a secret I don’t want known. All he’d have to do is lift my laptop lid and he’d see the homepage on the screen. While I trust him, I quicken my steps and tell myself it’s my worry about Minou that has me hurrying.
When I return, all my anxiety evaporates. They’re in the same spot, only now Benoit is also in the land of nod, his head lolling to the side, his mouth slightly parted. I drop the baguette and tart on the kitchen bench and then tiptoe close to the sleeping beauties and give Minou a gentle pat.
Benoit’s eyes spring open and I jump backwards. ‘Sorry, I was checking on Minou.’
He laughs. ‘That’s OK. His purring put me right to sleep and it doesn’t look like he’s going to move anytime soon.’
‘You’re stuck here for the foreseeable,’ I say. Minou is a totally different cat to the one the night before, but maybe exhaustion from his trauma has finally caught up with him and he can rest now he knows it’s safe here.
‘He’s drooling on me a little bit.’
I laugh. ‘And he hardly knows you. How rude.’ While Benoit is stuck as Minou sleeps, I pour two glasses of cool crisp Sancerre.
I hand Benoit a glass of wine as he awkwardly slides upright so as not to disturb the furry creature. Minou wrenches one eye open and then promptly closes it again.
‘Merci,’ Benoit says, taking a sip. ‘I didn’t expect the day to quite pan out like this. But I’m glad it has.’
‘Me too. Guillaume has sent me about a hundred texts asking how things are. After my frantic messages last night, I sense he doubts my cat parenting abilities.’
‘I’m sure he trusts you. It’s probably more that he’s in love and not thinking straight.’
What? How does Benoit know such a thing? ‘In love? Guillaume?’
He gives me a slow nod. ‘Oui. He joined that site, Paris Cupid.’
‘Oh, he might have mentioned that in passing. I wasn’t really paying much attention. What did he say about it?’
‘He’s enjoying it but has reservations about the safety side because of all the conjecture about it being run anonymously. But I assured him his details are safe.’
‘Him and technology!’ I say with a stiff smile.
‘Right, he’s a luddite of the finest order. It’s not helped by every second person at the market gossiping about Paris Cupid. I suppose it’s because of Emmanuel Roux. I don’t understand why people care so much about it being run by someone who doesn’t want their name involved.’
‘I don’t get it either. Was Guillaume really worried?’ Will that stop him from writing to Clementine? I’d hate to see that happy smile of his snatched away again. All because he’s worrying about a data breach or whatever his suspicious mind dreamed up.
‘Oui. He’s worried it might have been some kind of scam, that he’d be cloned, just the usual.’
‘Cloned?’ I let out a giggle. ‘Guillaume says technology has advanced too quickly and we’re all going be replaced with robots. The cloning thing is new.’
‘I did some investigation into Paris Cupid to put his mind at ease. It looks like a legitimate site to me.’
I try my best to keep my expression neutral but to hear even Benoit is digging around Paris Cupid is alarming. ‘So you said Guillaume is in love?’ He’s been writing for well over a month, so I suppose they could have agreed to meet, but I just don’t see Guillaume going that fast with this, and to call it love, well, that’s a whole leap I didn’t expect he’d take, not for a very long time at any rate.
Benoit makes a face. ‘I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but he asked me to write one of his love letters in calligraphy.’
‘Oh…?’
‘He wanted to meet. He wasn’t sure if he was being too forward, rushing into things, hence he wanted me to use an elegant script to show her his romantic side and that he was taking their relationship seriously. After she read that letter they arranged to meet. As far as I know things progressed fast because he told me she was joining him for a few days on his buying trip to Roeun.’
‘I’m…’ Lost for words. So much for taking it slow! It hasn’t been very long and they’re going away together already? ‘I’m a little taken aback. Guillaume confided in me about Paris Cupid and I figured he was searching for a friendship more than anything else.’ First Emmanuel and émilienne and now this. None of my matches are panning out the way I expected.
‘Apparently sparks flew. They’re both smitten.’
It’s like my brain is on overload and can’t compute the information. None of this came up when I met him at the vet but I suppose our focus had been on Minou. I consider Benoit’s job, penning the private innermost thoughts of his customers, writing their secrets, their sweet nothings onto delicate parchment, taking a love letter and making it into art with his beautiful calligraphy. It’s just like Guillaume to elevate his humble letter-writing, using Benoit to make it even more special. ‘I guess it was love at first sight for Guillaume and Clementine.’
‘Looks that way.’
Mortifyingly happy tears spring to my eyes and I hurriedly wipe them away. ‘Ignore me.’
‘You really care for him, don’t you?’ For a moment I get lost in Benoit’s deep intelligent gaze. He manages to pick up on just what I’m feeling without me having to voice it.
‘I do. I’ve been so worried about him since Mathilde passed away. Each year he gets thinner, wasting away before my very eyes, and nothing I could say or do would help. Mathilde had been adamant he should find love again, but he was dead against it. To hear this news, well, it’s a real privilege to have been…’ I stop short, catching myself before saying too much. Blame the emotions of the moment. ‘To hear this wonderful news.’
Benoit gives me a strange look. Or am I reading too much into it after my gaffe?
‘Cheese?’ I say brightly, holding the plate up.
‘Sure.’ He takes a slice of baguette and cuts a wedge of brie to place on the top.
‘It seems like everyone in Paris is falling in love…’ I muse almost to myself as we lock eyes.
‘There was something I wanted to ask you…’ Benoit says, but the thread is lost when Minou jumps up and steals the brie from Benoit’s fingers and dashes to my bedroom.
‘That cat!’