Chapter 9 #2
‘In fact, I have a very strict rule about kissing women on benches after midnight,’ he continued.
‘Oh, and what is that?’
‘Well, you see, the thing is, they have to sing me a song.’
Oh dear. I had well and truly landed myself in it.
When he’d asked me what I was doing in France, I’d felt compelled to embellish the truth and for some reason, a long-forgotten dream I had had about being a singer just popped into my head.
I used to sing for my mother all the time but I had never done anything about pursuing it.
It was as if I had now become possessed by my younger self, who was intent on living out all of the dreams I had never been able to fulfil.
‘I really couldn’t,’ I began nervously.
‘I know, the crowd must be putting you off.’ He waved his hand to gesture at the family of ducks sailing obliviously past us on the river’s gentle current.
‘I just can’t, I’d be embarrassed. There’s no music for starters,’ I complained, knowing this was going to be a losing battle, as he had begun to kiss my neck, all the while whispering gentle encouragements.
I’m not sure if it was the drink, the magic of the star-speckled night, or if it was just him, but I started to think, what did it matter?
I’d probably never see him again, so why not live out this little fantasy until the dawn arrived and broke the spell?
Taking a deep breath and a giant leap of faith, I closed my eyes and sang my old favourite, ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’.
I hadn’t sung in so long, I knew I was a little rusty, but there was something in the tone of my voice that even surprised me.
It was richer, deeper and more emotive than ever before.
Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’
Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me…
‘Gosh, you have a beautiful voice,’ Hugo said, his voice breaking slightly.
‘The last time I sang that song was for my mother,’ I told him. ‘She’s … she’s passed away now.’
He said nothing, but took me into his arms. I didn’t cry, but I just let myself be held and it felt like such a relief.
I hadn’t told anyone here the real reason behind my sudden decision to come to France, and even though this was probably the most inopportune moment to open up, not to mention the wrong person, it just happened.
‘You OK?’ he asked in a soft voice.
I just nodded. I was as OK as I could be.
‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it?’ he asked, somewhat rhetorically.
‘I’m just not sure who to be now. Or how,’ I said. ‘That probably sounds silly?—’
‘No, I know exactly what you mean. Unfortunately. I lost my brother.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ I looked up at his face, but he wore that same mask we all did, those who are left behind, trying to carry on. The club no one wants to be a member of.
‘It’s about six years ago now. I was twenty-five. I mean, we didn’t even get on, but still it changes everything.’
He was right. It did change everything; so much so that I had to change who I was in order to gain some kind of control over my life again.
I wanted to stay there indefinitely, but the cold had finally broken through to my skin and I was desperate for a warm drink.
‘Do you want to come back to mine for coffee?’
‘Is that a euphemism or actual coffee, because I’d murder a coffee,’ he said drily.
This garnered him another smack on the arm.
‘You’ll be lucky if you do get a coffee at this rate,’ I said, failing to hide my smile.
‘I’m being assaulted here, you know. Oi, gendarmes, arrest this woman!’ he shouted at some students passing over the bridge who responded with all sorts of taunts and gestures that happily I did not understand.
The walk took far longer than necessary, because with every few strides, we were both drawn to each other’s lips. My arms reached under his overcoat and embraced the warmth of his body as we kissed by the crêperie then the tabac, before we eventually reached the boulangerie.
‘So, this is me,’ I said, just like they do in the movies. ‘But Madame Moreau, my boss that is, lives in the apartment below me so you’ll have to be quiet…’ I could see his features changing completely. ‘What is it?’
‘You work here, for Madame Moreau?’
‘Yes, why, do you know her? She’s not exactly boss of the year material, but I’m really growing to like the place and the accommodation is free so…’ I smiled, but Hugo’s expression remained unchanged.
‘You know, I’d best be getting back,’ he said. ‘I have an early meeting in Paris in the morning and I don’t want to cause any trouble with your boss.’
‘Oh.’ I failed to keep the tone of disappointment from my voice, so decided to make up for it by babbling on endlessly about Madame Moreau. ‘You’re probably right, I’ve only been here a fortnight and she might start to question my morals along with everything else if I bring a guy home.’
He smiled and held my hand, and looked at me as if in two minds whether to tell me something. In the end, I made the decision for both of us.
‘Thank you for the book, Mr Chadwick. And for walking me home.’
‘The pleasure has been entirely mine, Miss Lane,’ he responded, lifting both of my hands and kissing each of them tenderly. ‘I hope to see you again,’ he added, lifting those piercing blue eyes.
‘Well, if you ever need a baguette, you know where I am,’ I smiled.
He pulled me close then, and gave me a ravishingly good kiss on the lips, leaving me with a slightly tipsy feeling.
‘Goodnight, Edith,’ he said, as he turned to leave.
‘Goodnight, Hugo.’
I climbed the creaky old stairs to my apartment, still in a daze.
I hung my coat up by the door and slipped out of my shoes, smiling inanely all the while.
No sooner had I turned on the lamp by the window looking out onto the street when I heard stones ricocheting off the glass.
I skipped to the window and looked down at Hugo about to take another aim.
‘Oi, what are you doing, you’ll wake the dragon!’ I hissed.
‘Ah, what light from yonder window breaks,’ he called amusingly.
‘Quit goofing around or you’ll get me the sack, Romeo,’ I said, unable to conceal my pleasure at seeing him standing down there, acting like a romantic fool for me.
‘I just wanted to ask if you’d like to go out to dinner next time I’m in town.’
‘That would be lovely,’ I whispered down to him.
‘It’s a date, then,’ he confirmed.
‘Yes, it’s a date,’ I echoed, almost in confirmation to myself. I couldn’t really believe this was happening.
‘Bonne nuit, Edith.’
I waved silently and blew him a kiss, which he caught and held to his heart, then half collapsed as if I had shot him. All too soon, he turned to go and I could have sworn I heard him whistling the tune ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, but I couldn’t be sure.