Chapter 27
27
Another week slips by as I’m tidying up the bookshop when my phone rings. I dig in my jeans pocket to find it.
‘Bonjour?’
‘Hello, Coco.’
‘Sally?’ My first ever acquisition at London Field Publishing and one of my favourites.
‘Yes, it’s me, love. How’s Paris treating you?’
I take a moment to decide if I’m upset with Sally calling out of the blue like this, and decide to hear her out. ‘Well, I’m not getting the double takes and the whispering behind the hands like I did in London.’ I try to infuse my voice with a lightness I don’t feel. My Paris life isn’t exactly all rainbows and butterflies yet. Not with my daughter, at any rate.
‘I’m sorry, I really am. That man did a number on you, that’s for sure. I’m sorry for my radio silence too. Not just mine, all of ours, but we were advised to have no contact until it was all sorted.’ The liquidators were waiting on further funds to come in from various eBook platforms and bookshops, who often pay months down the track, so there’s hope that we’re nearly there in terms of everyone being paid fully now, as I couldn’t get those funds any faster and they weren’t due until now anyway. I’d received an email this morning saying all the loose ends would be tied up by the end of the month and that would be that.
Then I could go after Alexander, having the full financials.
‘So it’s all sorted? Finished?’
‘For me. A few others are still waiting but they’ve been told they’re working through them all.’
‘It’s a relief.’
‘For everyone I expect.’
There’s an awkwardness between us that wasn’t there before. It can’t be helped I suppose. ‘Coco, none of us were happy that you were given the short shrift. Your cantankerous pal, the retired DS Phillip got his mates to personally look into it. Ooh, I’m probably not supposed to mention that, and over the phone no less. Next minute I’ll have Scotland Yard around here.’ We laugh. Phillip is a stickler for the rules, and I can relate, so for him to have asked his police mates is unusual.
‘And?’
‘And they say you’ve got a strong case and you shouldn’t let it go.’
‘They were suspicious of me though.’
‘Well, you’ve got oodles of proof now, haven’t you?’
‘I do, but I’d have to file a civil suit and bleed myself dry with legal fees.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not?’
‘Did Phillip put you up to this call?’ I miss Phillip complaining about the state of the publishing industry and his writing colleagues who get their policing facts wrong.
‘He did. He might have a little rabbit up his sleeve.’
‘Do tell.’
‘This isn’t the first time Alexander’s pulled a stunt like this. He’s done it before and settled out of court. DS Phillip wants you to call him. He might be retired but he’s got an idea.’
‘Well, that changes things.’ He’s settled out of court! ‘Who was it?’
‘I’m sworn to secrecy. Blame DS Phillip. But if you needed a little spurring on, Alexander has announced his engagement to Molly-Mae. They purchased a lovely little cottage in St Ives, in Cornwall. I’m sorry, Coco.’
I assess how I feel about the impending nuptials… Oddly at ease. They deserve each other, but as for the cottage, a quiet rage boils inside of me. ‘He’s not even trying to hide it? How is he so brazen with stolen funds?’
‘There are whispers he and Molly-Mae are going to launch their own digital publishing firm – but we’re not sure if that’s Alexander putting feelers out to see what reaction he’ll get.’
I rub my face, probably smearing my lipstick. ‘I see.’ I seem to be the only one who is suffering after the fall out. That hardly seems fair.
‘DS Phillip said his door, or phone in this case, is always open.’
‘Thank you, I might take him up on that. So where did you land after all this?’
Sally names another boutique publishing firm. ‘Only signed for two books, though, Coco. In case you return to the industry. I don’t mind admitting I’m struggling without you. I miss your editorial magic touch, the way you don’t stop until you get the best story out of me. I always knew you were a wonderful editor, I just didn’t realise how much you shaped the manuscripts and made them better until you weren’t there.’
‘Thank you, Sally. That is really lovely of you.’ I do miss that part of my life. Reading Sally’s messy drafts and then going for a walk around London to ruminate about it. Letting the story sink in while I ponder about what can make it stronger.
‘Keep me posted, won’t you? If you start up again, or join another publisher, I’d love to go back to where we were.’
‘I will, Sally. I miss working with you too.’
After we say our goodbyes and I hang up, Valérie calls me over to the bar. ‘What was all that about then?’
I’m numb. Not much can shock me when it comes to Alexander any more, so even the cottage and the engagement doesn’t hurt me like it should, but what does blow my mind is that he’s done this before and gotten away with it. I’d never heard any rumours about him and if he settled out of court, that would be why. And now he’s planning on starting another company, while I’ve lost my investment and my dignity. He doesn’t get to do that twice and get away with it.
‘Sit,’ Valérie says. ‘And tell me what’s going on. Your complexion is grey so you must’ve had some sort of shock. Now, before you launch into it, I know all about London Field and what happened.’
‘You do? How?’
‘Google.’
Oh God. ‘That’s why you gave me the job?’
‘No, that’s not why. Do you see any other weekday staff here? No, the job is legitimate. You recall you dropped your business card here the first day we met?’
‘Yes.’
She shrugs. ‘I was curious. It’s not magic that fixes a broken heart. It’s details. And I wanted to know what made you hold your sadness in such a physical way. And so down the rabbit hole I went.’
I cup my face. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘Why? What would it matter? I’m only telling you now so we can skip to the next part of the story, the phone call and what’s happened today.’
Am I upset about the intrusion? I suppose not, because this is Valérie, who has trusted me even knowing that I’d run from a scandal in London. Who sensed I needed a life raft and sailed on by with her hand outstretched.
With a deep breath, I tell her what I’ve learned from Sally.
‘You need to take action now, Coco.’
‘I know. I’ll call DS Phillip, see what his idea is.’
‘Good plan. Now, why don’t you head off for the day?’
‘ Merci , Valérie, but I’ll be OK. I’ve got to tidy Library Madeline. There have been a lot of customers up there today and it’s a mess.’
‘It’s always a mess up there, that’s why I don’t tell anyone about the book loft. If they find it, then that’s all well and good, but otherwise, all those stairs, it’s too much.’
‘But it’s such a beautiful area with the view of the Eiffel Tower and sunlight streaming in.’
‘It really is, so why don’t you take a break then? You haven’t stopped today, you haven’t even had lunch. Why don’t you go upstairs while it’s quiet and I’ll ask Henri to ferry some lunch up to you, because those stairs will be the end of me.’
‘No, it’s?—’
‘I’m not asking, I’m telling. Off you go.’
‘OK.’ I head upstairs, glad for a moment to clear my head.
Not long after, a sheepish Henri appears, carrying a bottle of white wine and two glasses. ‘I’ve been sent to cheer you up. Liquid lunch OK?’
I laugh. That Valérie is always scheming when it comes to me and Henri.
‘Sure.’
He sits beside me on the daybed. It feels rather intimate but also comforting, like I’ve made real friends here already at the bookshop and those friendships will continue to deepen as time goes on. It makes me think of Eloise, not having the same good fortune.
‘Valérie mentioned a phone call…?’
‘Alexander is engaged. They’ve bought a cottage in Cornwall, in one of the most picturesque villages in the UK. They’re putting feelers out about starting their own digital publishing company. Meanwhile, I’m living with my parents and sharing a bedroom with my daughter who, by the way, isn’t speaking to me. I’m no mathematical genius, but I’d say the only person suffering in this equation is me.’
Henri’s sympathetic smile almost pushes me over the edge. I’m not upset, so why do I feel like crying? I’m angry, dammit. I’m tired of always feeling like less.
‘I’m so sorry, Coco.’
‘I should have asked your underworld pals to kill him.’
He laughs. ‘There’s still time.’
I bring my knees up to my chest. ‘He’s now living the kind of life I wanted. Am I’m too pedestrian for the fairytale? Maybe not all of us get the veil, the husband, the white picket fence.’ I cup my face, wondering why I’m blurting all this out to Henri when I’ve just told myself that none of that matters, all that I’m concerned about is the destruction of London Field Publishing, but I guess I can only bury my pain for so long before it rises back to the surface. It’s not that I miss Alexander, it’s that I want to find someone who loves me enough to propose. To plan a dream life with. I haven’t even got close to that happening, so what does that say about me? Am I so unlovable?
‘It shocks me, that it’s all working out for Alexander, the villain of the piece.’
‘Well, even if it is working out now, he’s still the bad guy, and everyone in the industry knows that. Whereas you’re known for stepping up and doing what was right, even at great personal cost to you.’
I manage a wobbly smile. ‘Do you ever see yourself getting married again?’ Right now, I’d much rather imagine Henri in a suit waiting at the end of the aisle than Alexander, which is the picture that’s front and centre right this minute.
Henri considers it. ‘Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But I’d like to fall in love again. It’s hard, being a single dad, but you understand.’
‘ Oui , I do. It’s why I didn’t date for the longest time, wanting to preserve our homelife just for us. But now I wonder, have I left it too late?’
‘Why would it be too late? You’re young.’
‘I feel older than thirty-three, somehow. Even my daughter worries I’ll end up alone, living with a virtual assistant called Alexa for company.’
He grins. ‘It’s scary, isn’t it, to think of our children one day being independent and gone from home. We’ll have all that freedom and not know what to do with it.’
There’s something so authentic about Henri. He could be throwing all sorts of platitudes my way to cheer me up and get back to his work, but he’s just sitting here instead being real. ‘We could get married,’ I say, arching a brow.
‘I’m all for spontaneity…’
‘Stop! I don’t want to hear the “but”.’ I laugh. ‘I mean, if all else fails. Say, when I’m forty or so, when my daughter has truly left me for her own exciting life at university or whatever, we can get married so we’re not alone.’
‘A marriage pact for lonely, sad people?’
‘ Oui, exactly like that.’
‘I’m in.’
I give him a wide smile. ‘Deal.’ I hold out a hand so we can shake on it. ‘If we find ourselves single at forty, we’ll get married and live happily ever after.’
Henri rubs his chin. ‘This is probably when I should mention I’m forty next year.’
‘What!’
‘You already made the deal. No reneging.’
I’m not sure why the silliness of the conversation amuses me so much, but soon we’re in fits of laughter.
When the laughter subsides, I find myself close to Henri; our knees brush, our heads are dipped forward. As we gaze at each other, time slows then stops, a caesura. The moment feels weighted, as if this elongated pause is for my benefit – a sign pointing this way, in case I miss or misread the signals, which I so often do.
I’m almost floating with the sensation pulsing through me, and so I trust in that. I lean closer, our faces a breath apart, waiting a beat for consent, some tacit approval. He traces a fingertip along my cheek, the softest touch, but it sends my nerve endings into a frenzy. There’s no sound except the thrumming of my heart, the siren wail of my pulse, as I press my lips against his, slowly, then all at once, I give in to the kiss.
The world fades to black but inside my mind is a riot of colour as he cups my face and the kiss deepens. I’m electrified, startled back to life. I’m Snow White, awoken with a kiss from the prince. It feels like coming home, and how can that be? Like the touch and taste of him is familiar.
I’m woozy with it all when a voice breaks through the love-struck bubble.
‘Mum! What are you doing ?’
I jump back from Henri as if zapped, stung, to find Eloise standing there, glowering, backpack slung over her shoulder .
I will myself to snap back into maternal mode. My brain scurries to reboot, but too many wires are crossed, as if I can’t find the path, the way back. ‘I… we… there…’ It’s a muddle. I suck in a breath as dizziness comes. The tingle of Henri’s fingertip along my cheek still pulses, yet his hand is now by his side. There’s the thought of panicking, but I’m done with that. I don’t want to fall prey to it ever again. I have done nothing wrong, then or now. I steel my shoulders. Focus on the matter at hand. ‘Why aren’t you at school?’
She harrumphs. ‘They’ve been trying to call you for hours! In the end, Mémère had to leave work to get me! And you’re just here… kissing this guy? My life is legit falling apart right now and you don’t even care!’
I take my phone from my pocket. No missed calls.
Henri’s touch glances over my arm. There’s a message in that briefest of connection. It’s reassurance, it’s support. ‘I’ll be downstairs.’ He leaves us, giving Eloise a quick wave as he goes. Politeness stops her from being rude and she gives him a tiny wave in return and then turns her fire on me.