Chances

by Kate Field

  We bought our lunch from the food stands – the inevitable sausage sandwich for him, and a bowl of steaming vegetable paella for me – and squeezed onto the benches in the grandstand while we ate it. This year, the stunt display featured horse riders who had appeared as body doubles on popular television dramas, and who stood on, dangled off and performed tricks on horses while cantering around the arena, jumping over obstacles and leaping through fire. It was an entrancing performance, and we laughed and gasped at the near misses and daring stunts, cheering loudly with the rest of the audience when it was over.

  After the equestrian display, there was a sudden change in the mood, as the head teacher of Inglebridge primary school led a long crocodile of children into the arena. I’d seen this advertised in the show programme, and hadn’t planned to watch, but we were wedged in high in the grandstand with no easy means of escape. One of the teachers at the primary school had died earlier in the year, after fighting breast cancer, and the children were going to release pink balloons in memory of her. The head gave a moving speech, as did the teacher’s widower who was flanked by their two teenagers, and then the balloons soared into the air as cheers and applause rang out across the showground.

  I couldn’t help myself; a few stray tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to the glowing tributes and watched the balloons drift away on the gentle breeze. The teacher who died had worked at the school for many years – she had taught Caitlyn – and she had been known to many of the children and parents attending the show today. It was a fitting goodbye from the Inglebridge community, but it was inevitable that my own personal goodbyes in my family would enter my mind too.

  The crowd in the grandstand started to move, and Paddy grabbed my hand.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling me up and leading me down the steps. ‘It’s time for the funfair.’

  ‘No …’ I began to protest, but he put his finger up to my lips.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have fun. We need it.’

  He was right, of course. It proved exactly what we needed to lift the mood again. We had a go at the hook-a-duck stall – Paddy won a plastic sword, which he brandished at me in brutal Viking fashion before handing it over to a less successful little boy. We rode sedately on the painted carousel horses, and raced round on the dodgems, laughing as we chased and bumped into each other; enjoying ourselves as if we were still the young Paddy and Eve, lovers with a life of adventure ahead of us, rather than the middle-aged pair scarred by tragedy and loss.

  Paddy caught my hand as I stumbled down the steps away from the dodgems, dizzy from the movement of the cars and the abundance of laughter. He led me away from the fair and towards the bank of trees that lined the side of the showground, until we were out of the crowd. He stopped and looked at me.

  ‘What do you say to me kissing you now, Eve? I’ll give you a fair chance this time. Would you pull away?’

  Would I? His eyes were locked on mine. I reminded myself that this was Paddy – the man who had abandoned me with a grieving child. But it was also the Paddy I had loved more than I had thought it possible to love another person; and the Paddy who had shown me this year that he had become the decent, thoughtful man I had always believed him to be. The question chased around my head, searching for the right answer, but it was too late – my body was already leaning forwards, ready to meet his.

  My mouth had almost reached his when the sound of my phone rang out from my bag.

  ‘Ignore it,’ Paddy said, the words blowing against my lips.

  ‘I can’t. It might be Gran.’

  I drew away and took out my phone. It stopped ringing just as I tried to answer. There was a long list of missed calls on the screen, all from the same unfamiliar number. All from France, according to the display. The blood that had so recently roared around my body now seemed to freeze in my veins. Before I could call the number back, the phone started ringing again.

  ‘Mum?’ It was Caitlyn. There was no time for relief, as the word ended on a sob. ‘Mum? I need you.’

  Chapter 21

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’ Paddy had been pacing around me as I spoke, and he clutched my arm as soon as I ended the phone call. ‘Was that Caitlyn?’

  I nodded. ‘She’s been mugged. Her bag was snatched – her purse and phone have gone.’

  ‘But nothing worse? She’s not hurt?’

  I shook my head. I’d had to be calm and soothing when talking to Caitlyn, but now the tears I had supressed ran down my cheeks, and I felt a complicated mix of horror that she had suffered this and relief that it hadn’t been anything worse. And Paddy pulled me into his arms, because of course he understood, like no one else could. He knew that I wasn’t only thinking of Caitlyn; I was remembering my younger self and reliving the assault I had experienced on the night we had properly met. As he rested his head on mine, it felt like we had come full circle; that once again he was the Paddy who had been there when I needed him, not the Paddy who had left. I clung to him, overwhelmed by how glad I was to have him with me now.

  ‘I have to go to Paris,’ I said, drawing back. ‘She said she’s fine. I believe her. But I need to see her for myself.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘But you have your work, and your mum …’

  ‘They’ll be okay for a couple of days. I want to come. If nothing else, my A-level French will be more useful than your Latin. Let me help.’

  I stepped back and studied him. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual, charming Paddy Friel smile. It wasn’t the TV smile, designed to captivate the viewers and keep the ratings high. It was a smile for me, designed only to offer reassurance and support, friendship and maybe something more. And any last, lingering doubts I might have had were finally swept away. The Paddy I had hated for so many years wasn’t actually real. The real Paddy was here in front of me, offering to stay at my side, not run away. I didn’t hate this man. Far from it. I’d asked him not to make me fall in love with him again. Why hadn’t I seen that it was already too late?

  ‘Yes,’ I said to him, and I walked back into his embrace. ‘Please come.’

  *

  We were lucky. There were seats available on a flight from Manchester to Paris the next day. Paddy made all the arrangements and then went home to pick up his passport, leaving me time to go shopping for a new phone and handbag for Caitlyn and to visit Gran before Paddy and I met again at the airport for the flight.

  I had fiercely guarded my independence for years, but found it oddly liberating to be able to let go and accept help from someone else now. I’d been lucky with Caitlyn over the last seventeen years. She had enjoyed excellent health – no broken bones, nothing more serious than chicken pox ever troubling her – and even the teenage years had been more peaceful than I had imagined after several years working in a secondary school. I hadn’t missed having someone to share my worries with, because there had been no proper worries to share.

  But even though I had spoken to Caitlyn again, and she had convinced me that she really was fine, the scare of her initial phone call haunted me and made me question the value of my independence after all. As Paddy sent me texts through the day, telephoned to finalise our plans, and distracted me with conversation and laughter at the airport and through the flight, I realised that although I could have done this on my own, I didn’t want to. And I realised something else. It wasn’t weakness to lean on someone else; it took strength to trust someone enough to do that. And despite what had happened in the past, I trusted Paddy.

  We travelled on an evening flight, and even with a private transfer from Charles de Gaulle airport to the city centre, it was after eleven o’clock by the time we pulled up outside the hotel that Paddy had booked in the Saint Germain district. In the twilight, I could see the pale stone façade of the building rising five floors high, with huge full-length windows decorated with black iron railings adorning the front face of the hotel. Two carriage lights glowed a welcome on either
side of the double-width wooden door, where the name of the hotel was discreetly embossed on the stone surround. It looked an expensive place, a boutique hotel rather than the budget accommodation I had been expecting, but perhaps it had been difficult to find two rooms at short notice and he’d had no choice but to upgrade. I hesitated at the entrance. He would have booked two rooms, wouldn’t he? I glanced across at him, and he smiled and squeezed my hand, which didn’t help answer the question.

  Paddy checked us in and we travelled upstairs in the lift to one of the highest floors. He led the way down a thickly carpeted corridor and opened the door to a room.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, holding open the door for me. I went in and found myself in a gorgeous bedroom, beautifully decorated with white panelled walls and mirrored wardrobes, and lit by an ornate chandelier. Lush teal velvet fabric covered the bed and hung on either side of the tall balcony windows.

  He followed me in and set my bag down at the foot of the king-sized bed. I glanced from it to Paddy.

  ‘Are you …’ I stopped, undecided where to go with this. Question or invitation? What did I want?

  ‘I’m in room 43. It must be down the corridor.’ Paddy dropped a lingering kiss on the top of my head. ‘You know where I am if you want me.’

  *

  I woke early the next morning, pushed back the voiles and opened the windows, revealing a charming view across the Saint Germain rooftops. The morning sun bathed my face and I felt an unexpected flash of exhilaration at being here. I’d already spoken to Caitlyn, and she had sounded well – so well it hardly seemed as if she needed the comfort I had come all this way to offer. She would be working through the day and so we had arranged to meet for dinner – the four of us, as she insisted on introducing me to her boyfriend, Luc, and I could hardly abandon Paddy, even if I’d wanted to, when he had done so much to bring me here. Until then, we had a whole day to spend in Paris, and with my worry over Caitlyn diminished by our conversation, I was keen to cram as much as I could into the few hours we had here before flying home tomorrow.

  I’d never visited Paris before. Unsurprisingly Paddy had, although I chose not to ask for details of any romantic trysts he’d enjoyed there in the past. He swept us through the city like a local, combining some ‘must see’ moments with his favourite places. We enjoyed breakfast in a bustling café tucked away on a quiet street near the hotel, before we visited the Montparnasse Tower and ascended to the observation deck to admire the incredible views across the city and towards the Eiffel Tower. We marvelled over the stained glass at Sainte-Chapelle; strolled along the banks of the Seine; and enjoyed delicious fresh fish for lunch in a restaurant overlooking the river. Later, we visited the Luxembourg Gardens, which looked amazing with the perfect blue sky overhead and the flowers in full bloom.

  We sat in a shaded spot in the gardens, exhausted by our whistle-stop tour – and by the wine, in Paddy’s case, and all the food I had enjoyed, in mine. Although there were lots of other people strolling in the gardens, it felt incredibly peaceful, as if all this beauty had been laid on solely for us.

  ‘What’s the verdict?’ Paddy asked, turning his head to look at me. The summer breeze had roughened his curls through the day, and the first signs of a five-o’clock shadow were darkening his chin. He looked like a laughing pirate, an enticing mixture of danger and fun. ‘Have you fallen in love?’

  Had I …? I stared at him, blinked, opened my mouth but couldn’t speak.

  ‘It captivated me the first time I came,’ Paddy continued. ‘I know you’ve only seen a fraction of it, but it’s a great city, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh! The city! Yes, absolutely. I do love it.’

  Paddy grinned at me. I had always loved his smile, the way it encompassed his whole face, lighting it with joy.

  ‘What did you think I meant?’

  ‘Oh, the food, of course. Is that terrible? You were being highbrow and cultural, and I was only thinking of my stomach …’ I laughed. ‘I’ll need extra-long runs this week to make up for today. I’ve been very bad, and we haven’t even had dinner yet.’

  Paddy reached across and took hold of my hand.

  ‘You could never be bad. In anything. You’re an incredible woman, Eve Roberts. Jeez, when I think about what you’ve done, giving up everything to look after Caitlyn … and when I think about what I did … You’re so good, I don’t feel worthy to even be here beside you, sharing the same patch of grass.’

  I wished I was as good as he believed. I wished I deserved these things he was saying. I moved towards him and put my free hand over his mouth.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘That’s all in the past. Let’s not think about that any more.’

  There was something curiously vulnerable about him, when only his eyes were showing his feelings. I watched as the expression in them softened until I would have known he was smiling even if I hadn’t felt the curve of his lips beneath my hand. And then his lips moved again and pressed a kiss against my palm.

  I drew my hand back a couple of centimetres. He leant forward and kissed my palm again. We did this twice more and his eyes never left mine. And then, when he was close enough that I could feel his breath, warm against my cheeks, I withdrew my hand completely and he leant forward and pressed his lips to mine.

  It was unexpected, and yet inevitable, because where else had the day been leading? And I kissed him back – because it was Paddy; he was in my bones, and always had been, an essential part of me. I didn’t need any other reason. And if I did, I still had some ‘Be Kind to Yourself’ vouchers unused in my bag, and I would have given up every last one, and reclaimed all the others, to pay for these moments in Paddy’s arms. This wasn’t for old times’ sake – it wasn’t a nostalgic embrace, or about rekindling the past. I wanted to kiss this Paddy – the man he was now. This was about the present – and maybe about the future too.

  Eventually, he eased away.

  ‘What time are we meeting Caitlyn?’ he asked.

  ‘About eight.’

  He checked his watch. ‘So there’s time to visit one more place. I know you wanted to see everything you could. Or …’

  He let the sentence hang. He didn’t need to speak the words. I knew what he meant. This is how we had always been: totally in tune with each other’s needs and wishes. I had wanted to see everything; I might never come back to Paris. But everything was right here in front of me. I scrambled to my feet and held out my hand to him.

  ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’

  *

  Paddy Friel. Paddy Friel was lying in bed beside me. Paddy Friel was lying in bed beside me, naked. His hand was curved round the small of my back; his toes were touching mine. I stared at his face on the pillow, and wondered if I would ever manage to stop smiling.

  Paddy opened his eyes, and eased forward until his lips brushed across mine.

  ‘Just so as you know,’ he said, as his hand slid over my back, ‘I’ve changed my mind. You’re not good. You’re bloody fantastic.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ I replied, laughing. ‘For a man of forty, anyway.’

  He didn’t let me get away with that, and tightening his arm round me, he drew me on top of him. He sighed.

  ‘I suppose we should be getting up, if you still want to walk to the restaurant.’

  That should have been my line. I should have been thinking about Caitlyn. Already I had let this thing with Paddy, whatever it was, distract me from the most important person in my life. But I couldn’t think of anything except the feel of his skin against mine, and the way my whole body tingled with pleasure.

  ‘What if we get a taxi?’ I asked.

  He laughed. ‘Then we would have time for this …’

  *

  It was ten past eight when the taxi pulled up outside the restaurant that Caitlyn had chosen; I was amazed that we’d managed to be as punctual as that. I spotted her at a table near the back as soon as I walked in and quickened my pace, feeling all at once a mum again,
with the first stirrings of guilt that I had spent hours in bed with Paddy this afternoon, when I had come over to Paris to offer her comfort, not to have fun. She waved and stood up as I approached, and we met in a hug that was probably embarrassingly desperate on my side. I didn’t care. She was here, and she was safe. Nothing else mattered.

  I stepped back to look at her properly. She looked well – incredibly well, considering the tears of two days before. Even on a cursory glance I could see the changes in her. There were the obvious physical ones: her long, blonde hair had been cut to her shoulders, her face glowed with a natural tan and I didn’t recognise the stylish clothes she was wearing. But there were other changes too, perhaps only visible to someone who knew her as well as I did. She seemed taller, brighter, more confident – glittering like Faye had once done, just as, with the shorter hair, she became less like her in appearance.

  It didn’t take long to work out the cause of the changes. As soon as I had pulled away from Caitlyn, the man who had been sitting with her at the table rose and rested his hand on her waist and she immediately leant into him. This must be the infamous Luc. I’d been through ‘meet-the-boyfriend’ experiences before, with adolescent boys who made me feel achingly old. Luc was something else: no more than twenty-five, I guessed, but with the assurance of a man twice his age, and with gallons of charm that coated his every gesture like honey. My first impression was that he reminded me of Paddy. I had no idea whether that was a good thing or not.