Chapter 17
The hotel lobby purred rather than screamed chic with marble flooring, comfortable, pale sofas and chairs, low dark wood coffee tables and the whole lit with two huge, glittering chandeliers. I watched Ashok from the corner of my eye subtly taking mental notes as we entered.
‘Bonsoir. Can I help you?’ The man at the desk smiled. Kind of.
‘Bonsoir. I have a table reserved in the name of Shukla?’ Ashok’s French was fluent and smooth with a perfect accent. Of course it was.
The receptionist nodded and directed us to the restaurant, the other side of the lobby.
‘I didn’t know you spoke French,’ I whispered.
‘I took some intense lessons when I began considering a purchase here,’ he spoke quietly back. ‘I wanted to make sure I understood any potential side conversations that might happen during the negotiations.’
‘Good to be prepared. Although learning a whole new language is quite the preparation.’
‘True. But you’ve met me, right?’
‘Quite.’
‘Bonsoir, madame et monsieur.’
‘Bonsoir,’ I replied, as did Ashok. Like the receptionist, the greeter here was doing a great job of pretending I didn’t have two swollen eyes that were turning a different shade with every hour that passed.
We were shown to our table and seated, and Ashok ordered one bottle of still water and one of their most expensive champagne. The waiter nodded once and left.
‘Is that another test?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m just celebrating dinner with a friend.’
‘Then the second most expensive probably would have sufficed.’
Ashok laughed and then asked how it felt to be back in Paris.
‘Honestly?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m wondering if I made a mistake.’
‘Why? It’s not as you remember?’
‘It’s not that. I mean, of course things have changed but Paris is still as beautiful as it ever was. But I’ve changed.’
‘I don’t think any of us are the same people we were thirty years ago. It’d probably be a bit weird if we were,’ Ashok offered.
I made to reply as the waiter appeared with the champagne, an ice bucket in a stand, and two stunning cut-crystal glasses that made the reflected light from another large chandelier above dance.
He showed Ashok the bottle, and he nodded before picking up his phone and tapping away briefly as the waiter made an understated display of opening it.
He then poured a small amount into the glass before Ashok and stood back, awaiting Ashok’s decision.
My friend tasted the champagne, gave the waiter a nod and we paused our conversation until we had each been poured half a glass and the bottle been placed it in the ice bucket.
Once this was done, the waiter then gave a tiny bow and moved away.
‘So what weren’t you happy about? Or is it that you’re particularly impressed by something?’ I tilted my head towards his phone.
‘Oh. Was it that obvious?’ Ashok looked momentarily unsure, an expression that looked unusual on his features.
‘Not to anyone else,’ I reassured him. ‘But I know you barely look at your phone when you’re in company. And,’ I leant closer to him, ‘I also know this is an undercover operation.’
‘Busted!’
His laugh was warm and I felt the stress of earlier melting away, even, for a moment, forgetting about the state of my face.
How wonderful it was to have friends who you could absolutely be yourself with, without judgement.
And if you could make them laugh, and they you, it really didn’t get much better than that.
‘As for my secret scribblings, I noted that he didn’t show you the wine, just me. You should have been included as neither of us had known what he would bring.’
Ashok picked up his glass and I did the same, waiting for the toast.
‘To Paris.’
‘To Paris,’ I echoed and touched my glass carefully against his, the soft ring of the glass perfectly clear.
The bubbles tickled my nose as I tipped the golden liquid up and took a sip. It was light and smooth with a hint of spring.
‘You like it?’ Ashok asked.
‘Yes, I do.’ I leant over and turned the label towards me as I hadn’t been able to see it when the waiter had shown Ashok. ‘Shit!’ I whispered the expletive. ‘Ashok!’
Quickly, he put his glass down on the crisp, white, linen tablecloth.
‘What is it?’
‘Cristal? You didn’t need to order that! It’s ridiculously pricey!’
He shrugged, picking his glass up by the stem once more. ‘It’s a business expense.’ A smile slid on to his face, hooking itself higher the longer he looked at me.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Katherine, just drink the damn wine and tell me why you think you made a mistake.’
I paused, let out a sigh and took a big slug of the champagne. Classy, I know. With mortification hovering over me like a cloud, I proceeded to tell him just how dowdy and plain I felt amongst all the beautiful people of Paris.
‘Bollocks.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Bollocks. You have your own style. You don’t need to follow and copy anyone else.’
‘It’s not that. My style is… I don’t even know! It’s… mumsy!’
Ashok looked at me. ‘I don’t really know what that means.’
‘Old-fashioned. Dull.’ I thought again. ‘Boring.’
A waiter, noticing our glasses were getting low, began to move towards us but Ashok subtly waved him off, then topped up my glass while I pondered, our conversation unhindered by interruption.
‘I was always so interested in fashion and style. I never followed it slavishly but I enjoyed it, if that makes sense.’
He nodded agreement as he concentrated on pouring his own glass. The bottle made a satisfying crunch as it settled back into the crushed ice of the bucket.
I continued on. ‘What we were saying earlier about having changed in the last few decades, of course that’s happened but aren’t you supposed to get to know yourself better as you age?
If I’m honest, I feel like the older I’ve got, the less I know who I am.
When I was here before, I felt, I don’t know, stronger, I guess.
I knew what I wanted, what I was going to do with my life. ’
‘I think that changes for many of us. I was convinced I was going to be a train driver on the Toy Train, hauling carriages up the Himalayas.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yeah. Absolute dream job.’
‘I don’t think you’d be sipping Cristal on those wages.’
‘That is also true. Compensation for sitting in an office instead of behind an engine. So you don’t feel you know who you are now?’
I looked past his shoulder. It felt stupid to say it out loud now, even to someone who was as close a friend as he was.
‘The truth is, I feel like a nobody. Like I’m invisible.’
‘You’re not invisible, Katherine. It’s rather more that others don’t see, and that’s their fault.’
‘Hmm.’ I took another sip. ‘When I came back into the apartment yesterday, Sash was filming. She turned the camera on me. I got a bit grumpy and asked her not to film me. I told her I didn’t want to be in any of her vlogs.
’ I sipped my drink as I got the words right in my head.
‘She, quite rightly, pointed out that I’d appeared in some before, which I have.
Hugh and I both. But those were special occasions and I’d done my hair and make-up and so on.
It was the best version of me and to be honest, that’s not even that special. ’
‘Don’t.’ Ashok’s voice was sharp and I snapped my attention back from where it had been wandering, surfing the décor behind him.
‘What?’
‘Don’t say things like that. Don’t put yourself down like that.’
‘I’m not. Not really.’
He sat back and folded his arms, an expression of ‘don’t bullshit me’ arranging itself on his features.
I’d seen it once before when we were on holiday.
Sash and her friends had returned early from a night out, fed up that they hadn’t been able to get into a swanky bar that they’d all been looking forward to trying.
They’d been told by the bouncer it was full even though they’d gone early.
Ashok had packed them and us into a town car and driven them back to the club.
He and I had walked up to the entrance and magically, the rope had been set aside at his natural air of success and wealth.
As he stepped past the rope, he turned to the bouncer and with the look he’d just given me, advised him that ‘as they apparently weren’t full after all’, he had a few friends joining him.
At his sign, the other four strode in, heads high.
He’d made a point of telling them to look confident, that they belonged there and not that they were being granted some magical access that they should grovel and be thankful for.
They’d done exactly that, the girls swishing in with swaying hips and all of them with confidence to spare, whether real or imagined.
The bouncer had shifted his weight, opened his mouth to say something then taken one look at Ashok’s face and wisely changed his mind.
Once inside, the kids had all chattered over each other with laughter and excitement.
I’d loved Ashok even more for that act. The fact he wasn’t about to let people he cared about be arbitrarily judged ‘not good enough’ by a bouncer and then showed them they were entitled to be there just as much as anyone else and have the confidence of knowing it was so kind and so Ashok.
‘Look around you, Ashok! Everyone is stylish and chic. You, for a start. And then there’s me in a dress I’ve had twenty years, the one I always pull out for “nice dinners” because it’s plain and sensible and familiar.’
‘Chanel always said you couldn’t go wrong with a little black dress.’
‘Oh my God, Chanel would cut me dead! I dread to think what she’d say about my style, or lack thereof.’
‘True. But she judged everyone harshly. OK. Bad example but the sentiment remains.’
‘I know, but… I used to know what made me feel good. What I looked good in and now I don’t feel like I know myself at all. I’ve been someone’s wife, someone’s mother for so long – not that I haven’t enjoyed those roles – but somewhere along the line, I disappeared.’
‘Then perhaps this isn’t a mistake after all, returning to Paris, I mean.
You say when you were here before, you felt you knew who you were.
So take the time to explore not only the city, but yourself.
I’m pretty sure you’re going to find yourself in Paris once more.
’ He paused and pulled a face. ‘Out loud that sounds a bit wanky but you get the gist.’
I burst out laughing, the tension I’d been holding onto evaporating as I did so.
‘Such poetry!’
He was laughing too now. ‘I know. I’m a businessman with the heart of a poet.’
‘Clearly.’
The worries of earlier dissipated in the company of such a good, uplifting friend.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was the balm I needed to salve my practically non-existent ego and begin, slowly, to rebuild the confidence I’d once had.
One step at a time. I’d put all this pressure on myself but the truth was, I didn’t need to.
‘You should explain to Sasha how you feel.’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t. She’ll just tell me I look great and I’m fine.’
‘I know. But what does she think at the moment?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘That I want my privacy, maybe.’
‘Despite having not objected before?’
I turned that over for a moment then sighed. ‘Fine! I’ll tell her. Now can you stop being all Wise Guru Man and get us some food? I’m starving.’