Chapter 5
LAILA
As I stepped off the Eurostar and heard the tannoy announcements in French booming around me, I pinched myself.
I was in France.
More specifically, I was in Paris: one of the most romantic cities in the world.
The last time I went abroad was a girls’ trip to Lanzarote when I was seventeen. Back then, I’d had big plans to travel.
I dreamed of working in a different country each summer. Grape picking in France. Au pairing in Spain. I had it all mapped out. Then when I graduated, I’d spend a year travelling around Asia and Australia.
But then I fell pregnant with Ricky. So instead of spending a carefree summer in Bordeaux, I spent it in a crummy bedsit changing dirty nappies.
And once Ricky arrived, every penny I earned went on raising him. There wasn’t any spare money for holidays. I did my best to make sure he didn’t miss out though. We had occasional outings to Brighton and Hastings and he went on school camping trips, but that was all that I could afford.
Not that I regretted having Ricky, of course. I loved my son with all my heart. It was just every now and again I thought about how different my life was compared to what I’d hoped it’d be.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Like Juliette had said, now was the start of a brand-new chapter.
I didn’t get the chance to visit France in my twenties, but I was here now, and better late than never, right?
As I stepped out of Gare du Nord station, I looked out for the car that the hotel said they would arrange for me.
Within seconds, I spotted a man who was suited and booted holding up a sign with my name on it and wheeled my suitcase over to him.
‘Hi!’ I said. ‘I mean, bonjour. Je m’appelle Laila.’
‘Bonjour, Laila. Enchanté!’ He held out his hand and I remembered that word meant something like nice to meet you. ‘Your French is very good!’
‘Merci!’ I said, glad that my GCSE French had come in handy.
‘Je m’appelle Antoine. I am your driver today. Come with me.’
When Antoine stopped in front of a silver Rolls-Royce, I nearly shit myself.
‘We’re travelling in this?’ My jaw slackened.
‘Oui, Madame. Only the very best for our Love Hotel guests.’
‘Wow,’ I said as he opened the door for me.
The fanciest car I’d ever been in was Juliette’s Porsche and Cordelia’s Range Rover, but this was next level.
‘Merci,’ I said as I slid onto the soft cream leather seats.
Once Antoine had loaded my suitcase in the boot, he climbed into the driver’s seat then set off.
‘How was your journey?’ he asked.
‘Good. Really quick,’ I replied. Juliette had offered to pay for a first-class Eurostar ticket, but I’d refused. She’d already done enough, so I booked a standard seat instead.
‘Are you excited about your stay at the hotel?’
‘Very!’ I said enthusiastically.
Ever since I’d got the confirmation email a few weeks ago, I’d barely thought of anything else.
Anytime I had to deal with a difficult customer or colleague, I’d just tell myself that there wasn’t long to go until I’d be in Paris with a handsome stranger.
The girls at work were all dying to hear who I’d been set up with. When they first asked what kind of guy I was looking for, I’d said I had no idea, which was true.
I’d spent so long focusing on work and Ricky that I’d never even allowed myself the luxury to dream about it. But this past week, I’d given it a lot of thought.
I wasn’t too fussed about his looks. It’d be good if he was a bit taller, but I’d rather date a short man who respected me than a 6ft Adonis who attracted all the ladies and treated me like shit.
Personality and having a kind heart were more important. In my experience and from what I’d heard from the girls at work who dated a lot, the guys that were hot were too flighty. They were always looking for someone prettier or sexier and I didn’t want to just be someone’s temporary option.
I’d love to be matched with a man who was my age or a few years older, so we’d have similar life experiences. Ideally, he’d already have adult children, because I didn’t want any more kids or to become a hands-on stepmother.
If I had the choice, it’d be good to be matched with someone who worked in a customer-focused role, maybe in an office environment too, so that we could vent to each other at the end of a long day. But that wasn’t really important. So long as he could pay his way, that’d be fine.
Juliette raved about the joys of dating a man with money and on the questionnaire she’d even said that I was looking for a guy who liked ‘the finer things in life’, which wasn’t true.
I made sure I changed that straightaway because as weird as it sounded, I’d prefer if the man I dated earned a similar amount.
If he was well-off, I’d always be worrying about him flashing the cash or acting like he was more important and in control.
I’d been independent for a long time, so I didn’t need a bloke to take care of me.
Hmmm, what else?
Juliette had raved about the ‘talents’ of French men, but I’d prefer to be matched with someone who was based in London. Even though France was just a few hours away, I didn’t want a long-distance relationship. That’d be too much work and right now I was looking for an easy, stress-free life.
The Love Hotel customer service rep said she couldn’t guarantee where my match would be from, but apparently the French resort had the highest number of guests from London and South-East England so that was already a great sign.
So, in a nutshell I was looking for a forty-something man, living in London with a ‘normal’ job. That didn’t seem like too much to ask, right?
Antoine continued driving and I pressed my face against the window as iconic landmark after iconic landmark came into view.
First it was the Opéra Garnier, then the Place de la Concorde.
Now we were cruising down the very busy tree-lined Champs-élysées – something I’d seen in tourist guides and on TV countless times.
Antoine said that he wouldn’t normally take this route because of the traffic, but knew that guests were always keen to get a glimpse of the most famous locations.
As we headed towards the stunning Arc de Triomphe, I asked if I’d get a view of the Eiffel Tower. He explained that it was mainly blocked by the buildings, but said that he’d drive down a nearby road to give me a glimpse.
When I spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I gasped.
I’d always wanted to see it in real life. Even from afar, the grand iron structure looked so much bigger than I’d imagined. I couldn’t wait to visit it properly. I felt like the heroine in my favourite TV show, Emily in Paris, when she first arrived in the city. Everything looked so amazing.
As we pulled up outside a grand limestone building, flanked by doormen dressed in the same smart red and blue branded uniforms I’d seen online, my eyes widened.
But that was nothing compared to the way my pupils popped when I stepped through the huge glass doors with intricate black and gold wrought-iron details into the incredible hotel reception.
My head swivelled from left to right, then right to left as I took in the sight of the polished white marble floors, impossibly high ceiling which had a massive modern chandelier hanging from it, the thick marble columns and the majestic white marble staircase which wouldn’t look out of place in a French palace.
The scent of the elegant floral arrangement on a grand stone table wafted around me and I looked on in awe as a woman dressed in a chic white minidress clutching a designer handbag that probably cost more than I earned in six months floated past me and out through the hotel doors.
This place was fancy.
I was so busy taking in the grandness of the reception and the bougie guests that it took me several seconds to realise a man was calling my name.
‘Madame Hall?’
‘Sorry!’ I smiled. ‘I was miles away. Yes, that’s me! This place is seriously impressive. Like, wow!’
‘I am glad that you like it. Welcome to the Love Hotel, Paris. My name is Claude and I will be the person helping to bring you and your match together.’
‘You’re my Love Alchemist, right?’ I said.
‘Oui.’ He nodded. ‘Our job titles here are a little unconventional so I always like to explain what I do in plain English first. I have never met a guest who mentioned the job title before I did!’
‘I like to do my research,’ I said. ‘Anyway, it’s lovely to meet you, Claude, or should I say: enchantée?’
‘Now I am even more impressed!’ A warm smile spread across his face. ‘It is excellent that you make the effort to speak French. I am sure your match will appreciate it.’
‘So he’s French?’ I asked quickly, desperate for any little clues he was willing to share.
‘Ah, I am afraid that I am unable to disclose any details about your match.’ Oh well. It was worth a try. ‘All will be revealed when you meet him at dinner this evening. In the meantime, I will check you in, then give you a tour of the hotel.’
‘Sounds great!’
‘But first, would you like a glass of champagne or orange juice? We also have a water menu if you prefer?’
‘Champagne will be perfect,’ I said, thinking that if they sent a Rolls-Royce to collect me and had a reception like this, the glass of bubbly was probably worth fifty pounds so I may as well get my money’s worth.
And a water menu? I always thought there were just three types of water: tap, still mineral water and sparkling. Maybe this hotel had water that was filtered through gold taps or sprinkled with the essence of diamonds. This was a completely different world.
After check-in, Claude showed me the plush restaurant where I’d be meeting my match for dinner in just three hours, the spa which had the most incredible indoor pool I’d ever seen, then he took me to my room.
Once he’d left, I raced towards the balcony and screamed.
Oh. My. God.
My room had full-on panoramic views of Paris. And I could even see the freaking Eiffel Tower!
Suddenly the cost of this hotel all made sense. Even though I hadn’t met my match yet, I already knew that if I had to work overtime for the next five years to pay off what Juliette shelled out for me to come here, it’d be worth every penny. This was beyond my wildest dreams.
The room had a luxurious cream and gold colour scheme with thick velvet armchairs and a plush cream carpet that I couldn’t wait to sink my bare feet into.
There was even a gold tray resting on the elegant glass table with a selection of chocolates and sweet-smelling macarons. I’d definitely be demolishing those later.
I flopped onto the huge bed, marvelling at how amazing the crisp white embroidered bedsheets felt. I’d lain on them for all of thirty seconds but could easily tell they were expensive. Definitely a step up from the ones I had at home that I’d got for half price from Asda.
It was tempting to stay here forever, but I was desperate to check out the bathroom. I jumped off the bed and raced inside.
Bloody hell. Everything screamed luxury. The floor-to-ceiling white marble tiles, the ginormous waterfall shower that even had a bench and a shelf inside, the rolltop clawfoot bath and the thick white fluffy branded Love Hotel towels along with the matching robe.
As I stood there and attempted to take it all in, I was overcome with a flood of emotions.
I didn’t get to go to places like this. And it’d all been made possible because of my dear friend, Juliette.
A tear rolled down my cheek and then another.
Although I’d bought her a bunch of flowers to say thank you and the best chocolates M&S had to offer, I needed her to know how grateful I was.
I went back into my bedroom (still couldn’t believe I’d be sleeping here), grabbed my phone and called Juliette. She answered on the second ring.
‘Have you arrived?’ she said quickly.
‘Yes,’ I said, trying to fight the fresh tears of happiness that were still flowing. ‘And it’s absolutely incredible! I just had to call to tell you how grateful I am. It’s… I can’t even put into words how much I appreciate this.’
‘Are you crying?’ Juliette asked, a tinge of disgust in her tone.
‘A little,’ I said sheepishly.
‘Stop that nonsense immediately! It’ll make your eyes puffy. Do you want to meet your match looking like a panda?’
‘I can’t help it. I’m so happy!’ I wiped the back of my hand over my cheek.
‘Save your happiness for when you’ve met your hot man. When will you be introduced?’
‘In just over two hours. We’re meeting for dinner.’
‘You better get ready! Send me a photo in your outfit. Remember to wear the low-cut red dress I bought you. You want to show him what will be on offer for dessert.’ She cackled.
I wasn’t so sure. It was very revealing and surely it was better for him to be attracted to my mind rather than my breasts.
‘I’ll send you a photo.’
‘And one of him too. We are all excited to see who you’ve been matched with. Marjorie has already messaged twice to ask for pictures.’
‘Will do!’ I said. ‘Right! I’d better start transforming myself. Thanks again.’
Juliette hung up. She wasn’t one for gushing and clearly I’d maxed out my daily gratitude limit.
Anyway, like I said, there was no time to lose.
In just one hour and fifty-eight minutes I’d be meeting my match and I couldn’t bloody wait!