by Mandy Baggot
‘Bonsoir!’
Ava turned from where she had been putting the drinks for their party onto a tray and faced the woman who had spoken. She was dressed immaculately in a dark-grey trouser suit, a bright-red silk blouse, long dark hair that reached past her shoulders.
‘Hello,’ Ava greeted with a smile.
‘Ah, you are English,’ the woman announced, still smiling.
‘Yes, sorry, my French isn’t very good either.’
‘But your hair is very striking,’ the woman said. She shot her hand out. ‘I am Caroline.’
‘Hello,’ Ava said, taking the woman’s hand. ‘I’m Ava.’
‘Ava,’ Caroline said. ‘Such a beautiful name.’
Ava smiled, her hand still encased in the woman’s palm. She inched it back as politely as she could until the woman eventually had to release it.
‘So,’ Ava said. ‘You are a member of this group. On the app?’
‘Yes,’ Caroline answered, her eyes not leaving Ava. ‘And you?’
Ava shook her head. ‘No, I’m here to help my friend.’
‘To find her a date?’
‘Something like that,’ Ava said, not committing.
‘And you, Ava,’ Caroline began, ‘you are looking for a date?’
Ava shook her head. ‘No,’ she said determinedly. ‘No… not at the moment.’
‘You are just out of a relationship?’ Caroline asked, leaning a little closer, her hand on the bar.
‘It’s complicated.’ She sniffed. It wasn’t complicated but she wasn’t about to share the crap end to her relationship at a dating event. ‘Men, eh?’ she added, forcing a laugh.
‘Perhaps that is where you are going wrong,’ Caroline said, her hand resting on top of Ava’s.
‘Oh,’ Ava said, her eyes going to Caroline’s hand and then up to her eyes. She smiled then gently moved her hand away, reaching for her beer bottle. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m straight. Not into men at the moment but definitely going to be back into them in the future... if I can find one that isn’t a liar or a cheat.’
‘You are sure?’ Caroline asked, a playful smile on her lips.
‘Yes,’ Ava said. ‘Sorry, I know I might be rocking the Ellen look at the moment but I’m definitely on the coq au vin side of the fence.’
Caroline nodded and raised her glass of wine to her. ‘Such a shame.’
‘But good luck,’ Ava said. ‘Plenty of other lovely ladies here tonight... not that I’m looking... in that way.’ She took a swig of her beer as Caroline walked along the bar to another group.
‘Having fun?’
Ava almost dropped the beer at the sound of Julien’s voice close to her.
‘I got you a drink,’ she said, passing a bottle to him. ‘Just before I got propositioned by a lovely lady called Caroline.’
Julien smiled. ‘Didier has been speaking to a man called Horatio for twenty minutes now.’
‘And I now realise I have lesbian hair.’
Julien laughed. ‘There is no such thing.’
‘Oh there is.’
‘Everybody is different, Ava. Because someone looks a certain way you assume them to be a certain way?’
‘No, but... OK, yes, maybe, sometimes. That’s kind of what I’m used to.’
‘Shame on you,’ he said, sitting up on a bar stool.
‘Help me get up on there,’ Ava said, holding her arm out to him and setting one foot on the metal footrest. Using Julien to lean on she sprung up onto the stool next to him.
‘I have taken a lot of photographs,’ he said. ‘I focussed on the interaction between the guests, not the Christmas tree or the garlands.’
‘Thank you,’ Ava said. ‘This article means a lot to Debs.’
‘And Debs means a lot to you,’ Julien said.
‘Yes, she does.’
* * *
Julien was glad Ava hadn’t asked to see any of the photographs he’d taken, because as well as getting the partying people he had got quite a few of her. It wasn’t just her heart-shaped face or the way she held herself – shoulders straight as if she was eye to eye with the world and making no excuses – it was something indefinable, an essence, something uniquely just her.
‘So, Madonna, how is your card?’ he asked, indicating the dating postcard they had all been given.
‘Madonna isn’t my dating name,’ Ava said with a grin.
‘No?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m Jacqueline. I thought it sounded a bit French. What are you?’ She grabbed the card from his hand. She scoffed. ‘Pascal!’ She laughed. ‘That’s so bad.’
‘What is bad about it, Jacqueline?’ he asked.
‘You don’t look anything like a Pascal.’
‘No? What then do I look like?’ he asked, eyes on her.
‘A Julien of course.’
‘Thank you, Madonna... I think.’ He watched her smile.
‘So, have you marked your card at all?’
He saw her drop her eyes to the dating card and he snatched it up quickly, then held it above his head, high and out of reach. ‘I believe these are supposed to be confidential.’
‘Come on, I thought we were friends.’ Ava tried to stand on the footrest of the stool and reach up higher. He laughed as she flailed her arms around like a desperate, unbalanced tightrope walker.
‘You will fall,’ he warned her as he held the card higher.
Ava plumped back down, a frown on her face. ‘I don’t know why it has to be secret.’
‘You have marked yours?’ Julien asked.
‘I might have,’ Ava replied. She folded her arms across her chest.
‘With men or women?’ he teased.
‘Very funny.’
He brought the card back down then and held it out to her.
‘I think you might have been right about Pascal.’
Ava looked up at him. ‘You haven’t written anything.’
‘I have been taking photographs.’
‘I know, but we ought to try for the sake of Debs’ article.’
‘We could... just talk to each other,’ he suggested.
‘I’m not sure that’s going to count,’ Ava told him.
‘The purpose of the article is to capture the dating scene in Paris, non?’ That’s what Didier had explained eventually.
‘Yes.’
‘Then here we are,’ Julien said. ‘Two single people in the middle of the dating scene.’
‘Not looking for a date,’ Ava added.
‘Oh, Madonna...’
‘Jacqueline.’
‘Where is your love of role play?’ he asked, smiling.
* * *
Ava was on her second bottle of beer and being at a singles night in Paris was starting to feel a little less than bizarre. The fairy lights and Santa Claus paper coasters on every table were also grating less and she had Julien as company, not someone totally new and desperate for love.
They had settled at a table for two halfway down the room, a heart-shaped balloon on a stick as the centrepiece. She leant forward a little in her chair and spoke over the piped music playing love songs from the Eighties. ‘Favourite pop band?’
Julien shook his head. ‘You have asked me about films and breakfast cereals and now you ask me about pop music?’
‘Well,’ Ava started, These are things I would ask if I was looking for a date.’ She grinned. ‘Remember this is all for Debs.’ She hitched her head backwards. ‘My best friend who is currently practising her chat-up lines on someone dressed as The Grinch.’
Julien laughed. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I do not believe in having favourites. I hear something, I like it, I watch something, I enjoy it.’ He smiled. ‘I do not feel I then have to collect every song from this band or watch every film the lead actor has been in.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ Ava exclaimed. ‘No wonder you’re single. Your previous girlfriends must have found you intensely annoying.’
‘And your boyfriends? They
all answer these questions?’
‘The good ones did.’
Julien nodded, sitting back in his chair. ‘In that case...’
Ava leaned forward again. ‘Yes?’
‘I like Coldplay,’ he admitted.
Ava nodded and tightened her hold on her beer, her stomach spiking a little as she digested the information. He said he’d liked some French films she hadn’t heard of, but then he’d mentioned X-Men... and chocolate cornflakes... and now Coldplay. If this was real, if she was looking for love, he’d be scoring high on compatibility. And the eyes were getting more Cadbury’s by the second. Perhaps she wouldn’t have a third beer. She put her bottle back down on the table.
‘There is something wrong with Coldplay?’ Julien asked.
She shook her head. ‘No, of course not. Chris Martin is a song-writing genius.’
‘You are a fan?’
‘I might have everything they ever made on Spotify,’ she admitted.
He smiled then. ‘And what about your favourite film?’
‘Taken, obviously. Closely followed by Taken 2.’
‘Ah, a film set in Paris,’ Julien remarked.
‘The first time I saw it I was on a flight to New York with my mother. It scared her to death. She had the concierge at the hotel on the phone every time she saw someone she deemed looked like a kidnapper.’
He laughed. ‘I think I would like to meet your mother.’
Ava shook her head. ‘No, you really wouldn’t.’ She took a breath.
‘So if you liked to draw at college, why did you not look further into this?’
She sighed. ‘I told you. I never dared to think I could do anything like that. My mother had her plans and I just did whatever I could for a quiet life. When her and dad were rowing all the time, all I wanted to do was anything to make things... less fraught.’
‘But now? You have time to make your own choices.’
She nodded. ‘Except now I have the choice it’s all a bit overwhelming. I mean, where do I start?’ She looked around her, taking in the people drinking, laughing, getting on with their lives, looking for romance, all seeming to have everything pegged.
‘It takes just that first brushstroke,’ Julien said softly. ‘Like with the Mona Lisa.’
Ava nodded. ‘I know. But for me it’s all about the pens. I have a favourite brand.’ She smiled. ‘I’m a Bic girl. I always sketched in Bic blue, nothing else did it for me. I drew my friends and the teachers when I was supposed to be studying... deforestation or... World War I... and I was good at it.’ She sighed. ‘But when school finished, even though I got that A* for art, my mum had lined up assignments for the summer and that was it. No more pens. No more drawing. What was the point?’
He smiled. ‘The point is I believe you can be whatever you want to be.’
‘What about you, Julien? Not tempted to go back to the financial district?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m finding there is even more to discover about photography than I thought.’ He smiled. ‘Another drink?’
‘Just one more,’ she answered, then whispered, ‘And I’d avoid the man wearing red velvet. He’s had at least five glasses of wine and he’s been looking at you intently for the past twenty minutes.’
‘I will take my chances,’ Julien said rising from his seat.
Ava smiled, watching him make his way to the bar. The nicely fitting jeans he had on earlier were still nicely fitting, as was the white shirt he was wearing with them. There was no doubt, the French certainly did style better than anyone else.
‘How is it going?’
Debs dropped her body into Julien’s chair and looked across at Ava.
‘Good,’ Ava said. ‘Yes, lots of research being done like I promised, and Julien’s taken some photos.’
‘Have you spoken to anyone else apart from Mr Kodak?’
‘Yes,’ Ava said immediately. ‘I’ve spoken to a rather nice lesbian called Caroline. And if I was that way inclined I would definitely have given her my number. She was very Ginnifer Goodwin.’
‘Didier is doing sterling work,’ Debs said, looking across the room. ‘And he’s told me about a Christmas market we must go to. Apparently it’s the place to get all things Noël in Paris. But, Ava, it will be your duty to help me write about it rather than purchase everything in it.’
‘Really? The last time it was my job to stop you buying things, I had to handcuff your wrists to your bag... the really deep one you couldn’t get your purse out of.’
‘I gave that one to charity... by the way, it’s ten minutes until the half hour chatathon.’
‘That sounds like speed dating by a different name, Debs.’
‘Think article. My name on a big feature in Diversity. Because you totes love me.’
‘Fine, but I’m expecting lunch at this French market.’
‘It’s a pact.’
25
Outside Bettina’s
The streets were quiet when they eventually left the dwindling singles scene in Bettina’s. Having had one beer too many Ava was even more unsteady on her feet. She linked arms with Debs and leant her head on her shoulder, eyes closing.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Debs said, shifting so that Ava had to raise her head. ‘I need you fully alert for tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh yes,’ Ava said, widening her eyes and trying hard to stifle a yawn. ‘Our stealth mission.’
‘It isn’t funny,’ Debs reminded.
Ava tried to force the fug of alcohol away and turned to face her friend. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
Debs took a breath, pulling her coat a little closer. ‘And I’m oversensitive. What with Mum and Gary and this bloody Trudy...’
‘So I will call a taxi? To Showcase?’ Didier asked, arriving at their side, Julien in tow.
‘No,’ Ava and Debs said together.
‘Sorry,’ Debs said. ‘That was a little bit rude. What I should have said was, thank you so much for coming tonight and helping me with my articles.’
‘You are welcome,’ Didier answered with a bow. ‘We shall escort you back to your hotel, yes?’
‘No, that’s OK,’ Debs said. ‘We can get the Metro.’
‘I think we should go too, Didier,’ Julien agreed. ‘We all have things to do tomorrow... like work.’
‘My hours are flexible,’ Didier answered. ‘Like my dancing limbs.’ He proceeded to elongate his leg like he was Louie Spence.
‘Well, Debs and I have to be up early to...’ Ava saw Debs’ expression issue a warning, ‘...check out the Christmas markets and...’ – she looked to Julien – ‘you’re meeting your sister.’
* * *
Julien felt the blood drain from his face. This was what happened when you spoke about someone in the present tense and didn’t make the situation clear. He should have said something earlier, when Ava had just assumed that was who he was meeting up with. Instead he had failed to contradict her. But how could he say anything now? In front of Didier and Debs? And what was Ava going to think of him? Spending all day and all evening with her, talking about Lauren like she still lived in her apartment only a few streets away.
‘You are meeting who?’ Didier asked.
‘We should go,’ Julien said, taking Didier’s arm. ‘I do not believe that Didier’s working hours are quite as flexible as his limbs.’ He quickly waved a hand, ushering his friend away from the women. ‘À bientôt, Debs. À bientôt, Ava.’
‘What is going on, Julien?’ Didier asked as they moved away. He was fighting for his arm, attempting to relieve it from Julien’s grip.
‘Nothing. Come on, we will share a taxi.’ He increased his pace down the street, facing the stream of snow flashing through the night.
‘Ava said you were meeting your sister tomorrow,’ Didier repeated.
On instinct Julien looked behind them, saw the two women heading in the opposite direction, arms intertwined. ‘Sshh.’
‘Julien,’ Didier began tentative
ly, ‘Lauren is dead.’
Julien stopped walking, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, setting them on his friend. ‘I know,’ he whispered.
‘Then who are you meeting tomorrow?’
‘My father,’ he breathed. ‘It isn’t like you think.’
‘I do not know what it could be like.’ Didier folded his arms across his chest.
‘I told Ava about Lauren. Talked to her about the apple juice photograph, the great times we had, her job, Charles... all the memories I have... except I didn’t actually tell her she wasn’t here any more.’
Julien heard the air leave Didier’s nostrils. ‘Julien...’
‘I know. I should have told her, but everything we talked about had nothing to do with death and everything to do with the happy life she had. I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘It didn’t seem right to mention that.’
‘So how did you go from talking about the good times, to Ava thinking you are meeting Lauren tomorrow?’
He sighed again. ‘I told Ava I was meeting someone and she just assumed it was Lauren and... before I could say anything else I’d nodded and... it was too late to go back.’
Didier shook his head. ‘And you worry about how your father is dealing with his grief.’
‘I will tell her,’ Julien stated. ‘Of course I will tell her. I just need the right moment.'
Didier eyed him with suspicion. ‘Are you sure that this is really about Lauren? Or is it perhaps about you still not wanting to speak about the fire? The fire you ran into. The fire you almost did not make it back from?’
‘Don’t,’ Julien warned.
‘You tell me you think your father does not care what has happened but you are just the same. You are always so focussed on Lauren, I think you have forgotten that this happened to you too.’
Julien swallowed, his abdomen tightening as if the tainted skin there was still burning. He took a breath. ‘Trust me, Didier. I have not forgotten.’
26
Julien Fitoussi’s apartment
Julien hadn’t been able to sleep. Didier’s words had crawled around his brain all night and his real concern was that perhaps everything his friend had said was right.