When I Fall in Love

by Miranda Dickinson

  Elsie’s head was swimming. ‘A little. Please continue.’

  ‘Good. Here we are: “ … It has come to my attention that a young member of the choir, Danny Alden, has a dream to propose to his beautiful girlfriend, Aoife McVey, on the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I have been honoured to be party to his ambition, as we have spoken at great length about it. And so I have decided to facilitate this dream for my very special young friend. In order to do this, I am trusting Elsie Maynard to administer my wishes to the letter. I therefore leave a sum of £4,000 to be used specifically to take all members of The Sundaes to Paris for a long weekend (three nights), under the guise of playing a concert in the city. Aoife McVey must not, under any circumstances, discover the real reason for the trip. On the second afternoon, the choir is to take a sightseeing trip to the Eiffel Tower and, upon Elsie’s signal, begin to sing Aoife’s favourite song (Danny to confirm this) as Danny proposes. This is his specific wish, therefore I am merely making it happen. Elsie, I am trusting you to see this through, because both you and I know the importance of real love …”’ The solicitor stopped reading and observed Elsie closely. ‘There is then a personal message to Danny, which I will share with him later this afternoon. I would appreciate it if you could keep the details of this bequest to yourself until he contacts you to discuss plans. Do you understand the terms of the will?’

  Numb, Elsie nodded, but a battle had already begun inside her. Thanking Mr Delaney, she walked slowly out of his office, pausing in reception to sit for a moment to take it all in. Paris. Why, of all the places in the world that Danny could propose to Aoife, did it have to be Paris? She had no way of shirking this responsibility: it was the final wish of a dear friend, so how could she refuse? And yet, the thought of visiting Paris alone – without the one person in her life who had wanted so much to experience the city with her – was almost too awful to bear.

  Lucas had added Paris at Number 51: the only item on The List they were never to fulfil. For, on the day they had planned to go – bags packed, ferry and trains booked and hotel waiting – the vehicle taking them from their little terraced house in Islingword Street was not a taxi but an ambulance, blue lights ablaze and engine roaring as it rushed Lucas to hospital. Elsie had discovered his lifeless body slumped beneath the bathroom sink and, in sheer panic, had dialled 999. The paramedics revived him at the scene but Elsie could tell from their grim determination that this was to be no minor setback for their trip …

  ‘Elsie? What on earth are you doing here?’

  Heart thudding hard, she looked up. Please, no. Not today.

  Torin surveyed her, his mild amusement becoming concern when his eyes met hers. He sat quickly beside her. ‘Is everything OK? You look terrible.’

  ‘I’ll be all right in a minute. I just need to … think.’

  He checked his watch. ‘This isn’t the place to think, trust me. Look, there’s a café not far from here. Why don’t we head there?’

  ‘No – no, really, I’m OK.’

  ‘You don’t look it.’

  Why wouldn’t he get the hint? Elsie stared at him for a long time and then, so suddenly she shocked herself, she found herself agreeing – an overwhelming urge within her to be out of Denbigh Associates more compelling than her desire to argue with him. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

  A wry smile broke across his face. ‘Good girl. Although, I’d be careful with that gravity of admission in here if I were you.’

  He led Elsie out of the law firm’s offices, down several back streets until they emerged in a small courtyard with an old-fashioned teashop at the end of it. Despite her internal consternation at her acceptance of Torin’s suggestion, the sight of the very British café with its floral tablecloths, handmade bunting hanging around the walls and large, steaming Brown Betty teapots was beautiful to behold. They found a table and Torin ordered a pot of tea and two squares of crumbly Almond Bakewell. Elsie stared out across the teashop to the window beyond, her thoughts far away from its cosy interior.

  When their order arrived, Torin poured tea into two bone china cups and passed one across the table to Elsie. The tea was hot and strong, tingling in her throat as she drank.

  After observing her for a while, he spoke. ‘Is that better?’

  ‘Much. Thank you. Don’t you have work to do?’

  ‘Only paperwork. And that can wait. Can I ask why you were at my workplace?’

  Great, Elsie thought, for once amused by the coincidence, trust Torin’s law firm to be the one I visit today. ‘I had an appointment with Andrew Delaney.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘Family law?’

  ‘A will. One I didn’t know I was going to be mentioned in, actually. It’s come as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Was it someone you knew well? A family member?’

  She gave him a rueful look. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

  ‘Sorry. Par for the course in my line of work, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It was one of the members of my choir, if you must know. Irene – the old lady who did the air-guitar routine when we sang at Brighton Carnival?’

  Torin’s expression clouded. ‘I didn’t go to the Carnival this year.’

  What was he on about? Elsie had seen him, just after The Sundaes had performed – he knew that. Why deny it when he knew as well as she did that it was a lie? ‘Yes, you did. I saw you. I was with Olly …’

  Obviously he had no intention of admitting it, for whatever strange reason. ‘I must have a doppelgänger in Brighton.’

  His odd denial irritated her, but the last thing on her mind today was trying to understand the mind of Torin Stewart. ‘Maybe so.’

  Torin looked away. ‘Were you close? To the lady, I mean?’ Was he blushing?

  ‘I didn’t think I was, but Irene had other ideas. She’s left me a whole list of crazy instructions in her will and I have no idea how I’ll be able to do it.’

  ‘You can always decline. It’s very simple: you either appoint another person to carry it out for you or renounce the responsibility altogether.’

  ‘That’s not an option. I’ve been asked to organise something for someone else. If I don’t do it, they’ll lose out. I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Elsie, there’s always a choice.’

  She was about to reply when she noticed something on the table. ‘Wait – is that a Filofax?’

  Torin looked down at the black leather organiser. ‘Yes.’

  Forgetting her cautiousness, Elsie laughed out loud. ‘Wow. I never had you pegged as a Filofax kind of guy.’

  Torin placed his hand protectively on it. ‘I love this. My mum bought it for me when I started with the firm.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, it has your initials on it, too. In gold!’

  ‘OK, now you’re just being insulting.’

  ‘T.H.S. What does the “H” stand for? Harry? Herbert?’

  Torin groaned. ‘Hamish.’

  ‘Nice name.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘Listen, you can tell me about the terms of the will, you know, if you want to. I’d be happy to advise you.’

  ‘No. But thanks for offering. I think I need to wait until the other person gets in touch and then I can start to arrange things.’ She wished with all her might that she couldn’t see the sting of her refusal in his eyes. Raising her teacup, she smiled at him. ‘Great tea, though.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Even if you did diss my personal organiser.’ He paused, his eyes still as they had been in the maternity ward a few weeks ago. Then, he clapped his hands together and stood. ‘Now I really have to get back to work. Tea’s on me, so stay as long as you need to.’ He made to leave, then hesitated and turned back. ‘Give my regards to your sister – and Ottie Rose.’

  A strange undulation of surprise appeared in Elsie’s stomach as Torin left. He made no sense at all: one minute combative and full of his own importance, the next almost human. Whatever the truth about him, today wasn’t the day to find it. She had far mor
e pressing issues to deal with – and all of them were now inextricably linked with the one city she had vowed never to visit after Lucas died: Paris.

  They had talked about it endlessly for eleven and a half months, so Elsie knew by heart what Lucas wanted them to see in the French capital: the Louvre, Montmartre, Notre Dame. And, finally, going up to the second stage of the Eiffel Tower as the sun set across the city. Not the first, not the third, but the second. Lucas had visited Paris with his grandmother at the tender age of ten and they had shunned the elevators to climb the metal staircases. As it was a windy day, the top tier of the famous tower had been closed, so his first glimpse of Paris from the Eiffel Tower was from the second level – as high as the steps reached.

  ‘That’s the best view,’ he maintained, although Elsie always suspected this stemmed from his grandmother’s effort to lessen his disappointment on the day. ‘We have to stand at the railing, kiss and shout out, “C’est magnifique!” over Paris. Even if there’s a coachload of tourists there. In fact, especially if they’re there, because then we can be eccentric English tourists and not care a bit about what everyone else is thinking. Once we’ve done that, Number 51 can be ticked and it will all be done.’

  In the months that had passed since his death, Elsie often wondered if Lucas had always known his chances of fulfilling the final List item were slim. His insistence that The List must be completed in chronological order confirmed that Paris would happen in his last weeks – days, even. Several times during his final month, Elsie had begged him to reconsider Number 51, but he was adamant it should remain. Even now, she couldn’t explain why this had been so important to him, but she had, of course, laid her arguments aside in the face of his granite-like determination.

  Number 51 had confirmed to Elsie that Paris should be struck forever from the list of places she would like to visit. The thought of walking its streets, viewing its sights and experiencing its heart without the love of her life was just too painful. But now, the only thing that stood between the fulfilment of Irene’s final wish – and Danny’s dream proposal – was Elsie’s decision …

  Perhaps Torin’s suggestion was the answer here: to renounce the responsibility and find someone more suitable to the task of making it happen. But could she really live with this decision, knowing that Irene had placed so much trust in her, despite the small amount of time they had been acquainted?

  Or maybe she could organise everything from home? It would be easy to book transport, Channel crossings, accommodation and food provision from Brighton, and Woody and Daisy were more than capable of leading the trip once these details were arranged. But after all her hard work to bring The Sundaes together as a tightly-knit community, could she really desert them at their most important performance so far?

  After leaving the teashop, Elsie wandered aimlessly around the town, paying little attention to the time or the streets she followed as her inner battle ensued. By the time dusk began to fall, a storm had blown in from the sea, causing tourists to scuttle for the safety of hotels, pubs and B&Bs, while a few hardy locals defiantly fought their way along the wind-battered seafront, the famous British spirit in the face of inclement weather still alive and well in Brighton. Elsie joined them, the growing ferociousness of the wind no match for the typhoon raging in her mind.

  Tired and beset by memories, she left the promenade, buffeted by gusts of wind as she made her way onto the beach. Her blonde hair flapped violently around her face and the strong wind almost took her breath away. But all of this was immaterial: she needed to make sense of her feelings without having to give account to anyone else. Jim would only worry, Daisy would demand that she share every detail and Olly wouldn’t understand without a long, drawn-out explanation that she just couldn’t endure right now.

  What was worse was that Elsie suspected even Lucas wouldn’t understand her gut reaction to this situation. She could almost see him now, stomping along the pebbled beach beside her, vehemently making his point over the roar of the wind and waves.

  ‘What’s your problem, Elsie? You’ve never let fear hold you back in the past – why start now?’

  ‘I’m not afraid, Lucas.’

  ‘Yes, you are. But I don’t understand why. I never said you couldn’t go to Paris without me, did I?’

  ‘I’m not saying you did. I just don’t want to see it now.’

  ‘This had better not be some lame attempt to immortalise Paris in my name.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m not the one being ridiculous. Paris is an amazing city, Els! You should see it. And you won’t be alone. Plus, you’d be making that lad’s dream come true. Consider all the facts for the moment. Now tell me, honestly, do you still have a good enough reason for not going?’

  Standing at the water’s edge, Elsie watched the foam whipping over the pebbles at her feet. All of it was true and unavoidable, but deep down she knew the real reason for her reticence: by visiting Paris, she would be completing The List. Even though she had argued with Lucas about the existence of Number 51, its unfulfilled presence had somehow been comforting. If she saw Paris – and climbed the Eiffel Tower – it was the final step in letting Lucas go. She had achieved so much and yet, even now, she knew the final goodbye had not been said.

  ‘This is too hard, Lucas!’ she shouted out over the raging, windswept sea, her heart breaking all over again. ‘It’s too much to ask of me!’

  There was no reply, only the wind lashing at the waves as graphite clouds skidded across the sky. The salt spray hit her face meeting her tears and she cried out again as an overwhelming sense of aloneness crashed over her. She knew what she had to do – her decision was already made. It was impossible to avoid, stubborn in its immovability – almost as if Lucas had engineered it himself. But could she see it through? Could she stand being in Paris without him?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Something like a plan

  Danny called the next day and Elsie agreed to visit him at home after work. When she arrived, his mother met her at the door.

  ‘Isn’t this just lovely? I couldn’t believe it when Mr Delaney read out Irene’s plan. Come in, come in!’

  Danny jumped out of his chair when his mother ushered Elsie into the lounge. ‘Hey, Elsie.’

  ‘Hi, Danny.’

  Danny’s mum smiled nervously. ‘Right. Well. You two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll just …’ She backed out of the room and shut the door.

  Danny grimaced. ‘Sorry about Mum. She’s really excited, you know.’

  ‘It’s nice.’

  Remembering his manners, Danny pointed at the sofa. ‘Please – sit down. Can I get you anything? Cup of tea?’

  Triple vodka? ‘No thanks. So …’

  ‘Yeah. Major stuff.’

  ‘I have to admit, it was a bit of a shock. I never expected to be arranging a Paris trip for the choir.’

  Concern filled Danny’s eyes. ‘But you’ll do it, right? You’ll help me?’

  Swallowing hard, Elsie hoped her smile was convincingly confident. ‘Of course I will. But we need a plan. You heard what Irene said – Aoife can’t suspect a thing. So I have an idea and I’ll need you to get behind it one hundred per cent.’

  ‘You know I will.’

  ‘Because it’s going to feel like you’re lying to her for the next couple of weeks, and that could be hard.’

  Danny took a deep breath. ‘I know. But it’s worth it for what I’ll be able to do. I’m ready.’

  The first part of the plan was easy enough to achieve. Between them, Elsie and Danny concocted a cover story that they shared with the choir at the next rehearsal.

  ‘I have some exciting news,’ Elsie told The Sundaes as they sat together in Sundae & Cher. ‘We’ve been offered a gig.’

  The Sundaes looked at each other in surprise.

  ‘How did that happen?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘It was someone who came to Irene’s concert last week. They called me yesterday and made the of
fer.’

  ‘I didn’t think we were that good,’ Sasha said.

  ‘Well, obviously we were if someone’s booked us,’ Lewis returned.

  Sheila raised her hand. ‘So, where is it?’

  Elsie glanced at Danny. ‘Paris.’

  A shocked murmur went round the group. Woody leaned forward. ‘Hold on there, angel. You’re messing with us, right?’

  ‘Nope. We have, if we want it, the opportunity to sing in an open-air concert in Paris.’

  ‘When?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘That’s the slightly problematic thing: it’s in three weeks’ time.’

  Suddenly, everyone was talking at once. Elsie made several attempts to speak before a loud whistle from Woody finally restored order to proceedings.

  ‘Let the lady speak! The floor’s yours, angel.’

  ‘Thank you. I believe we can do this, but it’s going to take commitment from everybody.’

  Stan coughed. ‘I probably can’t go.’ All eyes swung to him. ‘It’s the money, you see. Things are tight enough for the missus and me as it is. But Paris? It’s an expensive city. I don’t have that kind of money. I’m sorry, everyone.’

  ‘Stan, it’s fine. The organisers have offered to pay our expenses. That means travel, accommodation and food. So the only thing you need is a free weekend in three weeks’ time.’

  Surprise reverberated round the room. Danny caught Elsie’s eye and nodded. ‘That sounds great. Er, actually, Els, I’m afraid Aoife and I have to shoot off.’

  Aoife looked at him. ‘We do?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, hun. Mum’s car’s playing up again and I said we’d take her to the supermarket. She’s buying us tea.’

  ‘But you’ll both come to Paris?’ Elsie asked, playing her part. ‘It won’t be the same if you two aren’t there.’