Chapter 10
10
There’s a sense of excitement as I get ready for my first day at the Paris Bookshop for the Broken Hearted. It’ll be fun to be on the other side of publishing, helping readers find the perfect novel. If I can find them in the jumble, that is.
If I don’t get a move on though, I’m going to be late, which is not like me. The bedroom resembles the scene of a crime; clothes are discarded on every available surface. Nothing seems to fit properly or is either too dressy, or too casual. Why did I leave it until this morning to figure out my work attire? I’m slightly out of breath as I slip on a pair of distressed denim skinny jeans – just call me cheugy – and a navy and white striped tee and some ballet flats. At least I don’t need to wear heels, and that is a bonus. I apply light make-up and spritz on a floral perfume. It will have to do.
‘I’m off, Dad,’ I say as I check my handbag, sunglasses, phone, purse before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. It’s jarring to feel so scattered and unprepared, but I really haven’t been my methodical self since I left London. Part of me wonders if my efforts to compartmentalise all the hurt I feel isn’t quite working…
‘Wait, what about petit dejeuner ?’ Dad says with a yawn. ‘I went to the boulangerie this morning and got a baguette for you and a pain au chocolat for Eloise.’
‘ Merci, merci. I’ll have to eat quick.’ He’s gone to so much trouble, but I need to catch the bus and I’m not exactly sure which one. We had a late night and got carried away celebrating at our family dinner, and after a few glasses of wine I slept deeply for the first time in weeks, missing my alarm this morning and only waking when Maman gave my shoulder a quick squeeze reminding me I had to be up, before she headed off for an early work meeting.
While Dad plates up breakfast, I search online for the bus timetable to find the quickest route. In future, I’ll walk, but there’s no time this morning for that.
‘Café crème?’
‘ Oui, merci .’
Dad bustles around the kitchen whistling a tune while he makes us coffee on the new-fangled machine that Eloise and I gifted them last Christmas. At first they were averse to using such a modern piece of technology, preferring to stick to their traditional French press. But over the holidays, Eloise showed them how to use it properly and now they’re hooked.
He places down our coffees and takes a seat opposite me and shakes out his Le Monde newspaper. Dad is old school like that and won’t hear of reading it on a device.
‘I’ll walk Eloise this morning and Maman will pick her up after school. She’s planning on taking her to Le Bon Georges for their famous mousse au chocolat . ’
Ooh la la, Paris and its gastronomic delights. This bistro Le Bon Georges is authentically French and uses only high-quality ingredients. They’re famous for their gourmet mousse made with the very best chocolate, resulting in a rich intense flavour. Quite frankly, I’m jealous of their téte-à téte and am grateful to Maman for planning it. The more we show Eloise how wonderful Paris is, the quicker she’ll settle in. Well, in theory.
‘ Merci. Eloise will love that. When you walk her to school, don’t be offended if she asks you to leave her the block before.’
He laughs. ‘Teenagers. You were the same. Go,’ he says as I ignore the breakfast on my plate, my stomach somersaulting with first-day nerves and my lack of preparation. ‘Get yourself in the right frame of mind so you’re ready for the day. They’re going to love you.’
My dad knows me so well. I kiss his cheek. And down the hall I yell through the bathroom door to Eloise, who is still taking a shower. Her muffled reply comes, something about cutting the cord. She often calls me a helicopter mother because I’m always hovering. If only she knew I was wearing skinny jeans today… I take a quick snap and send it to her to make her laugh.
‘ Je t’aime, Eloise.’
‘ Oui .’ How humbling it is to be a mum of a teen. The shower shuts off. ‘Have fun.’
I pause for a moment. Do I mention Léa and the gang again? Remind her to be strong and walk away even if it means sitting alone for a while? She seems jovial enough, so I decide against it, not wanting her to spend her morning worrying.