Chapter 15
There’s something romantic and magical about a train ride.
Hang on, let me quantify that. I’m not talking about commuter trains running consistently late with too few carriages and too many people.
But as we sped through the French countryside on a beautifully blue-skied but freezing-cold morning, I felt a sense of fairy-tale wonder.
I’m actually doing this!
I sipped on the strong black coffee I’d bought on board the Eurostar and watched as the view outside the windows changed from urban to countryside and eventually became more urbanised once again as we began approaching the outskirts of Paris.
Across from me, Sash was resting her head on a makeshift pillow created from a bundled-up scarf, eyes closed.
It had been an early start to catch the train at St Pancras and she’d been shooting footage to document it all, her excitement palpable.
Hugh had come to see us off and there were tears between the two – more so from Hugh – but Sash had reassured him she’d be back often and that it wasn’t forever.
I’d given them space, taking in the beautiful architecture of the building.
The Victorians, in my opinion, still couldn’t be beaten when it came to knowing how to design and build for both function and beauty.
Sash’s eyes fluttered. She sat up with a start. ‘Did I fall asleep? Where are we? Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘You were tired and needed the sleep.’
‘Mum!’ she replied, exasperation in her tone as she grabbed her vlogging camera. ‘I need to document all this!’ Immediately, she began shooting out of the window, steadying the shot by resting her elbows on the table.
After a few minutes, she put it down. ‘Sorry. I just don’t want to miss anything.’
‘I know.’ Inside, I worried as to whether Sash was missing out, forever looking at life only through a lens, but I’d been a mum long enough to know not to say this. Especially when an offspring had just woken up.
‘Are we nearly there?’ she asked, scribbling something in her notebook.
‘Not far,’ I said, checking my watch against the stated arrival time.
And yes, I’d returned to wearing a watch.
That was something else I’d decided on. This way, I didn’t have to look at my phone to check the time and then get pulled into a black hole of deleting spam emails and glancing at offers from companies I’d bought something from once, six years ago.
None of us had had mobiles when I’d been here last and we’d experienced everything with our whole selves.
The memories were imprinted on my mind so indelibly that I could remember it like it was yesterday.
I’d waited so long to come back that I wanted to make sure I experienced it fully again.
‘Mesdames et messieurs…’ The tannoy announcement told us, first in French and then in English, that we would soon be arriving at the Gare du Nord, Paris.
Sash looked across the table at me and grinned, her momentary grumpiness gone.
The one thing I’d kept with me from those days was the language.
Mostly. It was certainly a little rusty but I’d done my best to keep it up, reading books in French, and occasionally watching the odd French film.
Those weren’t my favourite, though. I liked a nice tidy ending and some joy.
French cinema was rarely either of those things and they were proud of it.
I’d wanted to teach Sash but she hadn’t been interested at the time.
Of course, now she was wishing she’d taken me up on the offer and was currently learning via an app on her phone.
We followed the instructions I’d written down as a back up, catching the Metro to the nearest stop to our apartment in the 15th arrondissement.
Disembarking from the train, we stepped out onto the streets of Paris, pulling the cases we had brought with us.
Some further luggage was on its way via a shipper.
Sash dropped her sunglasses down from the top of her head and looked around, already looking effortlessly chic in her Breton top, cashmere cardigan, jeans and boots, a midi-length trench completing the ensemble.
I, on the other hand, felt suddenly even more drab than usual.
I’d dressed for warmth rather than style.
I’d always been aware that the long puffer coat I wore now was far more caterpillar than couture but here it seemed amplified.
‘You OK, Mum?’
‘Huh?’ I looked over. ‘Oh, yes. Fine, fine.’ I pulled my phone from my eminently sensible handbag and pressed the Maps icon. I’d put the apartment in as a favourite earlier to save hassle and now pressed start to lead us the correct way.
The wheels of our suitcases rumbled over pavements. Above us, a bright-blue sky hosted a low-hanging winter sun. Stylish locals swished by as I took in the city that I’d once known like the back of my hand.
‘Is it far now?’ Sash asked.
I shook my head without checking the map. Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d gone over the route several times on Google Maps and the buildings around us now were familiar to me.
‘Just on the right down here,’ I said, steering us both down a narrow side street. ‘It should be just…’ I checked the numbers. ‘Here.’
We both looked up at the apartment building.
Cream with black shutters and wrought-iron balconies, finished off with an elegant set of oak double doors.
I punched in the code I’d been sent into the keypad of the small wall safe and the door pinged open.
I retrieved our keys and placed one in the lock.
With a turn and a heft of the door, we were in.
‘Wow!’ Sash trailed her case to the bottom of the stairwell and looked up. A wrought-iron staircase spiralled majestically up the centre of the building accompanying the polished stone steps, all of which dipped slightly in the middle from centuries of use.
‘Do you like it?’ I asked as I headed over to the row of post boxes and, with the second key from the safe, opened the one belonging to our apartment. Inside lay one more key. The key to the apartment itself. I took it out, locked up the box and joined Sasha at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Ready?’
‘Do you want to take the lift?’
‘There is no lift.’
Her perfectly laminated brows rose. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Oh.’ She looked at our cases. ‘OK.’ And we began the climb to the fourth floor.
‘You OK, Mum?’ Sash said as we finally reached the door to the apartment, her slightly ahead of me.
I held up a finger as I took a few moments to find some breath to shove into my lungs so I didn’t actually die before completing one day of my second Paris adventure.
In the end, I put a thumb up. Far less effort than finding extra air, or energy, to speak.
I was also in a little bit of shock-slash-denial as I remembered how I’d lived in a similar, although far less elegant, version of this building all those years ago and would jog up and down the stairs every day like it was nothing. Oh, God. I was so unfit.
I handed the key to Sash but she pushed it back towards me.
‘No, Mum. You should do it.’
‘I don’t think it matters, darling,’ I said, my breathing finally getting back to normal.
‘It does, Mum. This is your adventure. A new chapter in your life. And this is where it’s all going to start.’
I pushed the key into the lock, opened the door and walked in, wheeling my suitcase beside me. Behind me, I heard Sash wheel hers in too and close the door.
From somewhere deep within me, laughter bubbled up and burst out along with a wash of unexpected tears. I put my hand to my face.
‘Mum?’ Sash asked. As I turned, I saw her perfectly made-up face – how she always looked like this even at the ungodly hour we’d got up this morning is beyond me. Even in my youth, I didn’t have the energy for that.
‘What am I doing, Sash?’
‘Come on. Let’s make a cup of tea and sit down.
You’re just over-tired.’ She took my hands.
‘Mum. This is going to be great! Loads of people have said how cool it is that you’re doing this and how they’d love to do something similar but don’t feel brave enough, or wish they had done when they had the opportunity.
I have the coolest mum!’ She shrugged a slim shoulder.
‘I mean, I already knew that but still.’ Her smile was wide but I knew my daughter and could also see the hesitation behind it.
The last thing I wanted to do was freak my daughter out within an hour of arriving in Paris.
‘You’re right. I’m just tired.’
‘It’s OK. It’s a lot. I’m kind of “arggghhhh” about it too if I’m honest.’ She put her hands to her face to accompany the sound. ‘But it’s also amazing. It’s going to be amazing. I just know it.’
I mentally hoiked up my big-girl pants – the hold-it-all-in kind, obviously – I was in Paris, after all.
‘You’re right. It is going to be amazing!
’ And right then, right there, I was damned if it wasn’t going to be.
I knew I was privileged to be able to come back to a place I had once loved to make new memories, memories with the daughter I might never have had if things had been different all those years ago.
It was a case of sliding doors, but the door I thought I’d go through had slammed shut in my face.
At the time, I’d thought it was the worst thing that could ever have happened.
But I’d made a life. Admittedly, it hadn’t been a terribly exciting life but it was a comfortable one and there was something to be said for that.
And the best thing about it was here with me now.
It was time, as she had said, to start a new chapter.
‘Let’s put the kettle on and explore.’