Chapter 27
27
When I lock up late, all my neighbours have shuttered their shops. Geneviève didn’t turn up today so I send her a text:
Want to meet tonight? Catch up on some Paris Cupid work?
I have to tell her about the exchange I had with Coraline.
When I get to my apartment, I kick off my shoes and call out for Minou. The apartment is in reasonable shape; there’s some shredded paper on the parquetry and the corpse of a banana by the fridge. When there’s no answer to me calling his name, I add some biscuits to his bowl. The tabby cat then launches onto my shoulder and frightens the life out of me. Why can’t he just say hello the normal way? Maybe I’ll get used to these jump scares eventually.
I give his fur a pat as he balances on my left shoulder as if he’s a bird. ‘Did you have a good day?’ There’s a note from the cat sitter telling me she’s administered his medications and that he spent most of the day sleeping in her lap.
Minou jumps to the ground for his dinner, so I leave him to it and go and investigate the bedroom. Sure enough, he’s had a fight with the pillow and the pillow has come off worse.
The vet is scheduled for tomorrow morning so I’ll ask what might be causing such behaviours. Is it boredom? Maybe Minou needs a feline friend? Would two cats create even more mess and angst? Whatever the solution is, I’m willing to give it a shot. Coming home to him is a joy despite him having a burning hatred for décor. I clean up the mess of pillow before administering Minou’s meds when there’s a knock on the door.
‘Now, pretend you’re a well-behaved cat, Minou.’
He lets out a long meow and licks his paw and appears angelic as anything. It’s such a lie.
‘Geneviève! I was just about to pour a wine. Would you like one?’
‘What a silly question!’
‘I take it that’s a yes.’
She passes me her light coat and handbag as if I’m some sort of concierge. I would usually put them on the coat rack, but I’m one step ahead of Minou this time and go through to my bedroom and place them out of harm’s way in my cupboard.
When I reappear, Geneviève’s sitting at the dining table, bottle of wine opened and two glasses poured. She takes a long sip and smacks her lips together.
‘I needed that,’ she says. ‘Now to business. I’ve had a number of texts asking if you’re Cupid.’
‘I know. Pascale told me that there are rumours you’re Paris Cupid because you were encouraging people to join.’
Geneviève gives me a wide smile. ‘I love being the centre of gossip.’
‘I don’t. But they can’t prove anything, can they?’
‘Not unless we make a misstep.’
Geneviève goes to the kitchen to retrieve the wine bottle and returns to fill our glasses. ‘Do we care if the truth comes out? I know you’re worried about your dating history coming to light but, in the grand scheme of things, does that really matter any more?’ She softens her words with a warm smile, but just the thought of the truth coming out is enough to make my toes curl.
‘I’d hate it Geneviève, I really would. The married man saga will be dredged up again. And Coraline has joined some amateur sleuth group who want to find the identity of Cupid because they feel everything should be transparent.’
‘Coraline said all of that, after what we’ve done for her, what Paris Cupid has done for her?’ Geneviève says, aghast. ‘That’s really upsetting, Lilou. She was the one I was most excited would have a beautiful romance and a sort of… transformation. Are you telling me she’s just the same as she always was?’
I nod. ‘It’s disappointing to see she hasn’t changed. I guess she doesn’t know it’s us behind Paris Cupid, but she’s suspicious because of the links I have with love letters and Benoit, Felix and Pascale with their businesses.’
‘All that aside, she does know Paris Cupid helped her when she most needed it.’
‘We should have known better. I should have known better when it comes to Coraline.’
‘If they get close to the truth, why don’t I say I’m Cupid?’
‘But… what if they bring up your past? Won’t that bother you?’
She scoffs. ‘Hardly! I wouldn’t care a jot. I’ve loved and lost and I’ve picked myself up and tried again. Nothing to be ashamed of. But full transparency – if they want to be sensational about it, there’s plenty to work with. Just like everyone, I’ve made plenty of mistakes with men. But that’s just the thing, Lilou. We live and learn! And that’s what I want you to take from this, ma Cherie. They can sky write my dating disasters for all I care. They can splash each sorry past affair of mine online and make an example out of me. I’ll celebrate! I’d take that risk time and again because love is always worth it. Even if it’s not always easy to find.’
Minou takes that moment to jump on the table and swat at my glass, but my cat mummy senses must be improving because I catch it before it falls. ‘Hah!’ I turn to Minou. ‘Too slow this time!’
‘Are you goading that cat?’
‘Oui. But trust me, I’ll pay for that later when I’m asleep and he springboards off my nose.’
Minou regally assesses Geneviève. ‘So what are your thoughts?’ Geneviève asks. I take a sip of wine and consider it from both sides.
‘It’s really not fair to make you the focus of their scrutiny in whatever way that plays out. I couldn’t do that to you, no matter how much I’d hate the scrutiny on myself.’ Geneviève would probably kill for me, but it doesn’t mean I’d ask her to.
‘OK, option two: we acknowledge that people are curious to the identity of Paris Cupid but we’re not sharing that information because the person in question wants to maintain a level of privacy in their everyday life.’
‘I’m wondering if that will flame the fire.’
‘Sleep on it tonight and we can chat tomorrow. Now, to happier subjects. How are you going with finding out who your secret admirer is?’ She waggles her brow suggestively and says ‘Could it be Benoit, or could it be Pascale?’ I laugh at her theatrics as I think about the two men. I realise that only a few weeks ago, I’d been annoyed with Pascale and his tense behaviour, but perhaps with everything going on with Paris Cupid, that has somehow evaporated. He’s more of a friend than foe now, or at least we’re heading in that direction.
‘Honestly, Geneviève, they’re both wonderful. They really are. Even Pascale is slowly opening up, or at least he isn’t just using grunts to communicate.’
She inhales deeply, which I know means a monologue about love is coming.
I put a finger to her lips to stem the tide and say, ‘Also… another diary appeared this morning. Another item that I didn’t purchase. It was just sitting on a shelf in Ephemera.’
‘And clearly you didn’t see who put it there?’
‘That’s just the thing. Pascale and Benoit both stopped by this morning, in a short space of time. It could have been either one of them.’
She taps a finger to her chin. ‘Or… both of them! Maybe they both wrote in it! Have you looked? The plot thickens!’
I frown. ‘Wouldn’t that be a stretch? I haven’t looked inside yet. Let me find it.’ I go to my room and take the diary from my handbag. When I return, Minou is sitting in Geneviève’s lap, kneading her dress, what’s left of his claws hooking the material. ‘Ah, Geneviève, isn’t that raw silk?’ Geneviève is one to wear designer labels, always promoting the fact I should invest in quality that will last a lifetime, not fast fashion.
‘It is, but look at his little battle-scarred face. I don’t have the heart to stop him.’
It appears that Minou’s charms are endless. I find one of his rugs and place it on Geneviève’s lap to help save her dress. ‘Here’s the diary.’ I hand over the notebook, which has the most beautiful floral-embossed cover.
‘OK, so if you don’t think it’s both of them conspiring, best guess who penned this one?’ she asks as she dons her diamante specs.
I go to the fridge and take a range of cheeses and some fruit and assemble them on a platter. ‘I’m really not sure. Benoit came over the other day and said he wanted to ask me something, but then Minou jumped up and the moment was lost. Do you think he was going to confess it’s him?’ I bring the platter back to the table and have to wrestle Minou away from the brie.
‘Could be. Why don’t you ask him out? You’ve got extra time now that I’m helping with Paris Cupid. I’m having far too much fun helping with that, but what’s more important to me is that you continue to date and mingle and put yourself back into the path of love. And don’t think I didn’t pick up on the fact you avoided answering my question – who wrote this one?’ Geneviève waggles the diary in the air as Minou tries to paw at it.
I don my own thinking pose. Pascale is still an enigma, but today’s visit chipped away at my former opinion of him. He could see I was struggling, and he dropped his usual peeved act and checked in on me. Can I really trust in that? For all I know, he could be in cahoots with those who chitter chatter around the market and has noted the change in demeanour and pounced. I’m not usually one to catastrophise like this, but it’s an unnerving feeling not knowing who to trust.
The impatient tap of Geneviève’s fingernails on the table reminds me I haven’t answered. ‘Forced to guess, I’d say Benoit. His job is romantic; he writes other people’s love letters all day every day.’
‘Right. But this kind of diary, this is the sort of thing Felix prints, isn’t it?’
Is it? I hadn’t thought of Felix hand-pressing diaries before. ‘Can he do work like that? I’ve only seen him print cards, posters, wedding invitations, that sort of thing.’
Geneviève sneaks Minou a slice of Comte. I’m about to rebuke her when she says, ‘I’ve known Felix has bound handmade diaries before. He made a range for the teachers at école de Musique in Paris.’
‘When was that?’
‘A year ago, two? When he was on the other side of the market. I only know because I’m friends with the principal and he asked me to help him with the design.’
‘We know it’s not Felix, though. But are you suggesting that Felix must know who it is?’
‘Yes, he must. You don’t think it’s Pascale?’
I shrug. ‘He doesn’t seem the type.’
‘I can’t handle the suspense any longer.’ She opens the diary and gasps.
‘What!’ I ask. ‘What is it?’
‘Well, one mystery is over. You cannot doubt this is about you any more! Take a look.’ She points to the top of the page. ‘“Dearest Lilou”.’
‘It really is for me.’
Geneviève reads the first entry. ‘It’s a poem about unrequited love!’
‘Let me read it!’ I take the diary from her hands and scan the loopy handwriting. A warmth spreads through me at the sight of my name at the top of the page. The poem is evocative and sweet, an ode to a woman he loves but to whom he doesn’t have the courage to admit how he feels, for fear of rejection. ‘It’s got to be Benoit. He’s the shy one.’ When he speaks, he often says startlingly beautiful sentiments before freezing up. When we discuss anything domestic, like solutions for Minou, he’s practical and confident, as long as we don’t veer far off those sorts of conversations into anything personal. I’d thought that could be politeness. But what if it is that he’s unsure in my presence, like I so often am around men these days?
‘I don’t know,’ Geneviève says. ‘It could be Pascale. His gruff exterior might be a front.’
‘What about the handwriting? Won’t that give us a clue?’
‘Ooh, oui, of course!’
‘We need to compare the handwriting of all the correspondence that have arrived, but they’re in my desk at the market.’
She clucks her tongue, frustrated at the wait. ‘How about tomorrow I go on a little fact-finding mission? I’ll get Pascale and Benoit to do a writing sample for me and we can compare.’
‘How will you manage that?’
With a smirk, she says ‘I have my ways.’
I laugh and take a sip of my wine. My mind spins with scenarios and lands on another issue. ‘If whoever it is finds out I’m Cupid, will it change their mind about me?’
‘Ma Cherie, how could it? If they love you, then they love all of you.’
‘Love? Really, Geneviève?’
‘Oui. It’s love they’ve written about here.’
‘But which one is it?’
‘We’ll see.’
Minou lets out a plaintive meow. ‘What is it, my little friend?’ I tickle his ears as he gazes mournfully outside. ‘Are you missing the cemetery?’
As his wounds heal and he recuperates, I get the feeling my shoe-box size apartment isn’t going to be enough for my tabby friend. ‘Would you like go for a walk, Geneviève? Minou needs a bit of air.’
‘And how do you suggest we walk a cat?’
I smother a grin. ‘We’ve got a cat pack. I’ve drawn the line at buying a pram, that’s possibly one step too far.’
‘A pram?’ She shakes her head. Minou meows again as if trying to tell us something. ‘Let’s take him for a stroll, Lilou. He does seem to want to go out.’