Chapter 4
4
TWO WEEKS AGO
The hotel lift was a little smaller than she remembered and as soon as she stepped into it to make her way down to the reception, she regretted not using the stairs for the four flights. Two young French men, or boys perhaps, were in there and as the doors slid closed, she realised how close together they were all standing.
The taller of the two had brown hair, thick and wavy, curling to the nape of his neck, a shadow on his top lip which might be the beginnings of a moustache. The other sported a goatee and had short hair gelled into a neat point at the front. Both were dressed in jeans, band T-shirts, smart loafers. The lift interior smelled of enthusiastically applied aftershave and teenage hope.
One of them motioned at the buttons. ‘ Rez-de-chaussée ?’ he asked.
She had limited French but knew at least what this meant. ‘ Oui, merci .’
‘You are English?’ the other man enquired, a smile breaking across his face like a wave. ‘On holidays?’
‘Yes,’ she said, not willing or able to explain that this wasn’t quite a holiday. What else could she say it was? A mission? One last moment with Tom before she finally let him go?
‘Well, you must let us show you around!’ he enthused. ‘Evan and I, we know all the best places!’
‘Thank you, but no. I’m meeting someone.’
‘But of course!’ he said with an exaggerated eye-roll. ‘A beautiful woman like you will already have someone waiting, especially in Paris. It is not a place to come alone.’
She smiled thinly and waited as the doors slid open on the second floor to reveal an empty hallway. They were silent as the doors slid shut again and the lift shuddered into life and continued its descent.
‘Well, have a good holidays.’ The man bowed slightly as she left the metal container and stepped onto the thin carpet of the reception.
‘Thank you. You too.’
She silently walked the familiar route, seeing how little had changed over the years since they’d first come. She was only thirty-five – hardly old. But imagining the younger version of herself walking these well-trodden streets full of hope and life and excitement, she felt a strange sense of wanting to protect the younger woman. Of wanting her to know how things would work out.
Or perhaps that former her with her wide eyes and ready smile would be better off just enjoying the moment while she could.
She meandered along the Parisian streets, feeling something buzz inside her as she always did when she was here in this eccentric, artistic, historical, beautiful city. It was early August and hot, the sun beating on the pavements; people dressed in shorts and sunglasses, summer dresses and hats. In August, she knew, many of the residents made their way to their country houses, preferring to spend the holiday month away from the city.
But she’d almost always come this time of year – mainly because she’d always been in education (either studying or working), so her summers were free months. She enjoyed the heat, the warm evenings, the sparkle of sunlight on water. There was always shade, always a fountain to drape your hand into. Always ice-cold white wine or enormous jugs of water to pour. Plenty of sunshades on outdoor tables to take the edge off while you rested.
And although she didn’t have any way to compare, she wondered whether Paris was friendlier, more open, at a time when many residents disappeared but tourists flooded in, making an eclectic, friendly and vibrant temporary population of their own.
Once in a while, her hand would creep up to the silver locket at her neck, and she’d finger the cool metal, close her eyes and think back to a time when life was simpler, when her future had looked obvious and she hadn’t imagined the kind of curveballs life could sometimes throw.
Her phone rang and she smiled: Sam, her younger sister. ‘Hi,’ she said, bringing it to her ear.
‘Hey. So, how’s Paris?’
‘Ah, you know. French. Hot.’
‘Sounds pretty good to me,’ her sister said, her voice bright. ‘You know it’s going to rain all weekend here? Might actually come and join you.’
‘Next time, eh,’ she said gently.
‘Yeah. So have you done it yet?’
‘Sam! I’ve only just got here.’
There was a pause. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘Are you all right, sis? Because I don’t like thinking of you being there on your own. All that shit going through your head.’
‘I’m good,’ Sophie said firmly. ‘Anyway, aren’t I meant to be the older sister, taking care of you ?’
Sam laughed loudly. ‘I’d like to see you try!’
Sophie smiled, moving closer to the wall of one of the buildings so as not to block the way of any walkers.
‘Anyway, I’m keeping my phone on all weekend. So just call if you need to, OK?’ her sister added.
‘Thank you.’
She ended the call and, while she thought of it, sent a quick message to Libby.
Sophie
Here safe.
A green dot lit up next to her friend’s name and an ellipsis appeared in the chat box.
Libby
Good. And you’re feeling OK?
Sophie
I’m OK.
Libby
Glad to hear it. Just, you know… Get it done. Don’t overthink it, Soph.
Sophie
OK.
Libby
Soph?
Sophie
What?
Libby
You’re overthinking! I can sense it!
Sophie
Damn! Rumbled! OK, how about this? I’ll buy myself an enormous millefeuille to numb the pain?
Libby
Atta girl!
She slipped the phone back into her bag and continued to walk, wishing she felt half as upbeat as she’d tried to appear to the two most important women in her life.