Chapter 26
NOW
Tonight, when she reached the house, the front door was slightly ajar and music was playing softly from the kitchen.
She wondered whether Brad had brought his guitar downstairs, but when she opened the door, she found Henri and Odette with a collection of other youngsters, milling around the central table.
One of them had Brad’s guitar in his hands, although Brad himself wasn’t there. Henri looked up and gave her a grin.
Six days had passed since Brad’s arrival, but he seemed to have spent most of his time holed up in his room.
Sometimes she heard the sound of soft, beautiful guitar music playing; other times it was silent and she wasn’t sure whether he was at home or out somewhere, conducting whatever business he was here to conduct.
‘Bella!’ Odette said, sounding inordinately pleased to see her. ‘You’re home.’
‘Yes.’ She accepted the glass of wine that was already being shoved into her hand.
‘I didn’t realise they would keep you so late.’
In reality, she’d chosen to stay late to get her desk in order, to prepare what she could for the next day. But she smiled and said, ‘Yes, everything got really busy.’
‘We’ve been waiting for you!’
They had? She racked her brain, trying to figure out why that might be, but couldn’t for the life of her work it out. She definitely didn’t remember agreeing to go anywhere this evening. ‘Thanks,’ she said at last then, ‘Does Brad know that guy has his guitar?’
Odette shrugged. ‘Brad was here when we arrived, but he disappeared into his room. He left his guitar so—’
‘Yeah, but surely someone should ask before they play it?’
‘I don’t think he’d mind?’ Odette said, the last part raised in an inflexion which suggested she hadn’t considered this possibility before. ‘We asked him to keep playing, but he is very private about it. He seemed almost angry when we turned up.’
‘Oh. So, you waited for me?’ she prompted, changing the subject.
‘Well of course! We couldn’t go to Pigalle without taking you, after you said you’d never been!’ Odette said, laughing. ‘Now go change.’
Bella suddenly realised that her attire was very different from that of the others in the kitchen.
The women – girls – were dressed in short dresses made of shiny material, the men – boys – in jeans and shirts that were fitted and open-necked.
She glanced at her own plain work outfit and realised that she looked like their chaperone rather than a friend.
‘Oh, tonight?’ she said, thinking longingly of the bath and the fact that when the house emptied it would be so very wonderfully quiet. ‘I think I might prefer to—’
‘Nonsense!’ Odette interrupted. ‘You will love it.’ She grabbed Bella’s hand. ‘Come on, I will lend you something. We are only young once, after all.’
Bella allowed herself to be taken along the corridor to Odette’s room.
Odette disappeared inside, and Bella made to follow her, only to have the door – abruptly – closed in her face.
She stood back, surprised, and was about to knock and say something when Odette emerged, smiling, with a black dress edged with sequins.
It was made of some sort of silky material.
While beautiful, it wasn’t something Bella would usually consider wearing.
‘Put it on,’ Odette commanded.
‘I honestly don’t mind not going,’ Bella said. But she obediently made her way up to her room. Inside, she slipped off her day wear and pulled the dress over her head. Odette followed her in, unfazed by her near nudity. ‘Wow, you look great!’
‘It’s been quite a day at work, and they want me in early tomorrow so—’ Bella continued.
‘Pah! What does it matter?’ Odette asked. ‘They don’t own your soul, just a few of your hours. You are interning, not running the place!’
Bella was about to protest, when Odette spun her around towards a full-length mirror propped against the wall.
Seeing herself, Bella gasped. Gone was the corporate, efficient, possibly forty-year-old businesswoman, and in her place was a young woman who looked vibrant, confident. Ready for a night out.
She resisted the urge to tug at the hem of the dress to make it a bit longer and instead turned to Odette. ‘You really think I can get away with this? It’s quite short?’
Odette scoffed. ‘It is perfect for you. Now, come.’
Something about seeing herself on the cusp of a night out, being pulled along by a new friend. Something about the comradery of the group in the kitchen and the fact that they’d waited for her – as if she actually mattered to their night out – drove Bella forward.
Her fatigue lifted slightly by the time they piled into a couple of Ubers and asked to be taken to Pigalle. ‘What’s at Pigalle again?’ she asked Odette who was squeezed next to her on the seat.
‘Oh, you will see,’ her friend grinned. ‘You will soon see.’
After half an hour, the taxis pulled up at the entrance to a cobbled alleyway behind a busy street full of people dressed to the nines heading out for the night, and sombrely dressed workers heading home.
Bella’s eye was caught by the vibrant red of a windmill attached to a building, so lit up it seemed like a beacon.
‘Is that the Moulin Rouge?’ she asked, and Odette looked at her and laughed.
‘Have you not been to Paris before?’ she joked.
‘Not this area.’ Bella wondered why she and Pete had never made the regular trips to Paris they’d thought they might on moving to France.
The city had only been a few hours away on the train, but running the business and paying the overheads had meant that both free time and money had been in short supply.
They exited the Ubers and the group of them walked towards a rather shabby-looking building and joined a queue. Things moved fast and soon they were in, twenty euros poorer and a drink in hand, and in a completely different Paris from anything she’d imagined.
The club was packed, people drinking and talking and dancing.
Couples and groups crowded the dance floor, arms in the air, lost in the music.
There was a raised platform where a DJ was mixing tracks, something Bella didn’t recognise, with a thumping tempo that seemed to reverberate through her whole body.
She felt herself swept up into the pulse of the night, giving into her body’s urge to move and surrender to the beat.
She knew from experience that she wasn’t a good dancer but somehow, being on this packed floor with nobody really paying attention, she was able to find some sort of rhythm.
She sang along to the odd lyric she recognised, took a swig from her plastic cup and, for once, felt completely part of things as she moved – Henri to one side of her, Odette to the other, completely given in to the important task of having a bloody good time.
And despite her worries about Henri, as he moved closer and leant down to kiss her, she found herself kissing him back.
He smelled of aniseed and cigarettes and some sort of spice – a weirdly exotic, intoxicating mix – and his kiss sent shivers of electricity through her.
It was the proximity of him, the lights, the sound, but also the feeling of being desired.
Intimacy had begun to fizzle out between her and Pete a couple of years ago and although they’d enjoyed cuddles on the sofa, the passion had definitely gone. ‘It’s what happens in a marriage,’ Kitty had said when she’d mentioned it. ‘It’s a natural part of settling down.’
Bella had accepted this, and over time had learned not to miss the passion that had come at the start of their relationship. But with Henri, her body was responding in ways she’d forgotten it could; and she wondered how she’d let that part of her go, allowing it to slip away almost unnoticed.
But suddenly there was dizziness, a feeling of disorientation. Smiling faces seemed to leer, bodies dancing close felt suffocating. The music started pounding, the lights were a blur of nightmarish colour. She pushed past Henri and rushed for the stairs.
* * *
The air was unseasonably chilly when she exited onto the street, Henri behind her, but felt fresh; welcome. She breathed deeply and leant against the wall until her head stopped spinning.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, concerned.
‘Yes. I think so. Just… tired, I think. Bit too much to drink.’ She smiled at him, still feeling slightly wobbly. Now, in the alley which smelled unpleasant but at least was out in the open, she felt a little better. She checked her watch: midnight. ‘I think I’d better go home.’
Henri nodded, his eyes still concerned. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘OK,’ he leant in and kissed her lightly. ‘See you later.’
‘See me— What?’
He had already turned and was disappearing into the club, leaving her feeling wobbly and a little annoyed. Surely he should at least have seen her to a car? He hadn’t thought to see her home, let alone go home with her.
There was nothing else for it but to get herself a taxi. She straightened her shoulders and made her way to the main road, tapping in her phone to request an Uber and telling herself that it was fine – Henri had left her because he knew she was more than capable.
Despite this, when she finally and gratefully slipped into the back of the car, she felt a little tearful.
And for the first time in a long time, she found herself wondering what Pete was doing.
Then she thought of Kitty and how after a night out they’d used to sit in the kitchen with a cup of tea and put the world to rights.
And of Juliette, who had always been nearby if she’d needed her.
These people, even Pete, felt like home in a way her friends in Versailles still didn’t.
And she had a longing for her own place, for being herself, for feeling on solid ground rather than out of her depth.
She turned her head to look at the streets as they travelled so that the driver wouldn’t notice her tears.