Chapter 3
LAILA
One month later
‘How’s Spain?’ I asked Ricky as I sat at the dining table with my laptop in front of me.
It’d been a long day at the car insurance call centre where I worked and the last thing I wanted to do this evening was sift through the bills that had stacked up in my email account, but I knew they needed to be paid. Receiving a long-awaited call from Ricky was a great distraction.
‘Hot, but great!’ Ricky said.
‘Are you using the fan and the sunscreen I got you? Your skin needs protection.’
I still remembered Ricky telling me years ago that because he was mixed-race, he thought he didn’t need it, which I told him was bollocks (I put it more politely obviously). Even with Jamaican parents, I still made sure I wore sun cream, so I’d tried to drum it into him that he had to do the same.
‘Yes, Mum,’ he groaned.
‘Good. Whereabouts are you now?’
‘We were in Seville today and tomorrow we’re heading to Granada.’
‘Sounds amazing!’ As much as I missed him, I was glad that he was seeing more of the world. ‘How long are you in Spain for?’
‘Not sure. We might stay here for a couple of weeks then head to Italy or Germany. Haven’t decided yet.’
‘How will I know where you are and if you’re okay?’ My stomach tensed.
‘I’ll be fine!’ he huffed. ‘I’m twenty-one, not ten! You can’t expect me to call you every second to tell you where I am any more.’
‘Not every second, but a quick text every few days would be nice. You’ve been gone for a month and this is only the second time you’ve called!’
‘I’ll be fine! Y’know, if you got your own life, you wouldn’t have time to keep worrying about mine.’
‘Charming!’ I said, feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut. ‘Sorry for being concerned for your wellbeing whilst you travel around the world with God knows who, going God knows where!’
‘Go and join a knitting club, do line dancing, birdwatching or whatever people your age do.’
‘Birdwatching?’ My jaw dropped. ‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Ninety-five?’ he chuckled.
‘Bloody cheek!’ I laughed. ‘And do you have enough money?’
‘For now. Dad gave me some.’
‘So he should,’ I said.
Apart from a call on Ricky’s birthday or whenever he felt like it, his dad barely made an appearance.
Instead of paying maintenance, he’d let us stay in this house which he’d inherited from his aunt. But that was only because she’d left it in a state and it was too run down for him to live in. It was me that had to pay for the renovations and bills.
‘Gotta go. We’re gonna hit a bar and get some tapas.’
‘Be careful.’
‘Mum!’ he groaned.
‘And remember to…’ before I finished my sentence, the phone line went dead.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, how I longed for the days when my adorable little boy used to be my shadow and let me hug him. These days, Ricky always acted like I was the last person on earth that he wanted to speak to.
I rested my phone on the table and continued scrolling through my email account. Two new messages had come through whilst I was on the phone.
An automated one from the company I worked for, reminding me to renew my own car insurance (just the kind of big bill I needed right now) and the other…
Oh my God.
When I saw who the email was from, my heart thundered in my chest.
It was from the Love Hotel!
After I’d finished going through the website last month, I’d logged into my account, using the details that had been handwritten on the back of the deposit receipt and once I’d updated the questionnaire to reflect my own preferences (which were very different to the ones Juliette and Cordelia had entered), I’d logged out.
And because I hadn’t heard anything, I’d just assumed that they’d looked at my responses and decided I was a lost cause.
But now they’d emailed!
As my mouse hovered over the message, I told myself to lower my expectations. They could be writing to say I didn’t have a hope in hell of finding my perfect match.
Only one way to find out.
I held my breath, then double-clicked on the message.
And when I saw the word written in big bold letters at the start of the email, I let out a high-pitched scream.
Congratulations!
I quickly skimmed the rest of the email and when I read the all-important words, I jumped off my seat.
We’ve found your perfect match!
You are cordially invited to join us at The Love Hotel in Paris to meet the man of your dreams…
‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Godddd!’ I screamed, leaping into the air like a lunatic. ‘Juliette!’ I shouted.
I needed to tell Juliette!
I raced to the front door, then stopped, thinking I should bring my laptop to show her. I needed a second opinion to make sure it was real.
After sprinting back to the kitchen, I whipped my laptop off the table, then shot through the door and started frantically ringing Juliette’s bell.
She’d given me a key to her house but the one time I used it, I walked in on her and her lover in a very compromising position on the hallway floor, so I decided it was better to stick to knocking instead.
‘I am coming!’ she called out. By the time she opened the door, I was bouncing around like a child who was high on sugar.
‘What is wrong?’ Her brows furrowed.
‘Look!’ I held up the laptop and jabbed at the screen. ‘It’s from the Love Hotel! I’m going! I think? That’s what it says, doesn’t it?’
Juliette calmly took the laptop from me, took it through to the conservatory, sat down and studied the screen.
‘Oui!’ A wide smile erupted across her face. ‘You have a place! Congratulations, darling!’
‘This is… I don’t know how I can thank you!’ I threw my arms around Juliette and gave her a tight squeeze.
I knew she wasn’t really one for gushing or displays of affection, but right now, I didn’t care. I was so grateful.
‘It says that the balance has to be paid to confirm your place,’ Juliette said.
‘Shit. I forgot about that part.’ My shoulders sagged. ‘I was so excited I hadn’t even checked the invoice that was attached to the email.’
Juliette got up and I slumped down on the seat, dragged my fingers over the trackpad, then clicked on the invoice.
Bloody hell.
That was a lot of money.
Just as I was racking my brain, trying to think of what I could sell to raise the cash I needed, Juliette breezed in, waving a platinum credit card.
‘I will take care of it, darling,’ she smiled, handing it to me.
‘What?’ I shouted, looking at the card which had someone else’s name on it who I assumed was one of her lovers. ‘No way! I couldn’t ask you to do that! You already paid the deposit. I’ll raise the money somehow. I’ll ask for overtime at work or… I don’t know, maybe I could sell my car?’
Then again, I needed that for work. That’d be totally irresponsible. There had to be a way though.
‘Nonsense! This is one of the benefits of dating rich men. They give you credit cards and as long as you keep their dick happy, most don’t even check what you use their money for.’ She laughed.
‘But isn’t that like, fraud?’ I frowned.
‘No, darling! I get an allowance to spend on whatever I want.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, thinking this was way too generous and I didn’t want a real policeman to come knocking on my door for stealing someone else’s money.
‘I would not offer if I was not. When you find yourself a rich Frenchman, you can pay for a ladies’ weekend away.
Here.’ She reached in her purse and handed me another card, this time with her name on it.
‘You worry too much about always doing the right thing so put it on my card and I will just ask Archibold to give me the cash back when I see him tomorrow. You will have to enter the details though.’
My jaw hung wide open.
Imagine having access to so much money that you could just pay for a friend’s hotel stay that was worth thousands without even batting an eyelid.
Juliette had always been generous, which of course I appreciated, but at the same time, it also reminded me how we lived such different lives.
The fact was, if Ricky’s dad hadn’t inherited the house and given it to us to live in as part of his ‘contribution’ to Ricky’s upbringing, there was no way I could afford to live in a neighbourhood like this.
Everyone here had money. My Vauxhall Corsa stood out like a sore thumb on the driveway on a road that was filled with Range Rovers, BMWs and Mercedes.
I knew Juliette, Marjorie and Cordelia all took pity on me and saw me as their ‘poor friend’ and I’d made my peace with it, but paying for this was too much.
‘But I can’t…’
Juliette snatched my laptop and the credit card from me, put on her glasses and squinted as she entered in the details. Knowing how much she hated doing anything remotely technical, this was a big deal.
‘Done!’ Juliette said triumphantly.
‘Thank you so much. But this is just a loan. I’ll pay you back every penny. Promise.’
‘Nonsense. You are my friend, darling.’
‘Honestly, ever since you moved here, you’ve been so good to me. Buying me lovely gifts and now this. I’m so grateful for your friendship.’
‘If you want to thank me, go and have a good time and send pictures of your match the moment you lay eyes on him. I hope they put you with someone who’s young, rich and a stallion in the sheets, not anyone too old and wrinkly!’
‘You can’t say that!’ I gasped.
‘Why not? No one says anything when a man in his sixties dates a woman half his age, so why shouldn’t we be allowed to have a toy boy too?’
‘I’m going with no expectations. Finding a companion whose company I enjoy is the most important thing.’
‘Please.’ Juliette rolled her eyes. ‘Companionship is what your female friends are for. Promise me you’ll go there and have real fun. And by fun, I mean doing totally debaucherous things that you would not even dream of doing here in London. Be free. In every sense of the word!’
‘I’ll try,’ I said.
‘Excellent!’ She clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘Now let me take you shopping this weekend. If you are going to Paris, you will need to look the part. And you will need some underwear for your match to remove. Preferably with his teeth!’
A raucous laugh flew from Juliette’s mouth and a mixture of fear and excitement rushed through my veins.
Excitement at the prospect of going on a luxury all-expenses holiday where apparently, I’d find the man of my dreams. But also fear, because I hadn’t been intimate with anyone for years, so the thought of a man removing my underwear filled me with dread.
But there was no going back now.
My place was secured.
Ricky had said I needed to get a life and maybe he was right.
Except I wouldn’t be birdwatching.
I was going to Paris to meet a man.
And not just any man.
The man of my dreams!