One Christmas in Paris

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Your father... he has...’ Rhoda was ugly crying now, boulders of snot blocking her every breath. ‘He has the season ticket at Tottenham and the exotic holidays. All I have is things you used to be interested in... like… America’s Next Top Model and—’

  ‘Herbal Essences?’ Ava offered.

  ‘You think this is funny?’ Rhoda asked.

  ‘No, Mum,’ Ava said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You never want to be at home.’

  ‘Because I’m twenty-four and because you always threw modelling work at me,’ Ava responded, sighing. ‘If I’d known you just wanted to find some common ground then I would have suggested—’ She stopped talking, her mind racing to think of things they actually had in common.

  ‘Yes?’

  There had to be something, didn’t there? She quickly thought about things they’d done other than spend time in front of cameras. She smiled. ‘Horse riding.’

  She watched her mother’s usually strained over-Botoxed face lose its rigour slightly, the corners of her mouth moving up. ‘Ava, don’t be silly, we haven’t done that in years.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should have,’ Ava said. ‘I liked it.’ She breathed in, getting the glorious ginger-and-coffee-infused air but remembering the scents of countryside in the summer – grassland, ragwort and eau de pony. On board her favourite chocolate brown mare, nothing but the sun, the outside and the sound of the gentle clopping of the horse’s hooves.

  ‘Why did we stop going?’ she asked Rhoda.

  Rhoda raised her shoulders in a shrug. ‘We always had something else to do.’

  ‘Modelling?’ Ava asked.

  ‘You started going to football with your father.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, that didn’t mean I didn’t want to spend time with you too.’

  Rhoda dabbed at her eyes again. ‘Divorce is an ugly thing, Ava. It turns you into someone else... someone you never imagined you would be.’

  She swallowed, her mind going to Sue and Gary. She didn’t want her best friend going through another parental break-up. She responded, ‘But it’s been a long time now and...’ – she chose her words carefully – ‘is it worse because Dad’s moved on? Because he’s with Myleene?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Rhoda said a little too quickly.

  ‘He was sad to begin with,’ Ava told her. ‘But I think he knew, deep down, like you did, that you were never going to stay happy together.’

  ‘I was too young,’ Rhoda stated. ‘I leapt into something instead of thinking about my career. That’s why it’s so important to me that you don’t do the same thing.’

  Ava smiled and reached across the table for her mother’s hand – onyx, opal and diamante rings on each finger. ‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘But it doesn’t mean I have to follow the same path you did.’ She hesitated. ‘Not that it wasn’t the right path for you... I mean you have your business and you enjoy the glamour and everything, but it isn’t for me. I’m not sure it ever has been.’

  ‘Oh, Ava,’ Rhoda said, still teary-eyed. ‘But you are so good at it. So much better than I ever was.’

  Ava squeezed her hand. ‘I’m good at selling luxury apartments too but I don’t see my future there either.’

  ‘So... where do you see it?’ Rhoda asked.

  Her drawing came to mind. It was a possibility but she wasn’t confident enough to share that yet. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But that’s OK. Because I don’t need a wish list with things to tick off. I’m just going to take every day as it comes.’

  She felt her mother shudder, as if the very thought of not having a schedule to keep to was going to send her heart into abnormal sinus rhythm.

  ‘Honestly, Mum, once you get started it’s a lot easier than it sounds.’ She smiled. ‘And you hardly ever have to check your phone.’

  Rhoda shook her head. ‘You never used that calorie-counting app, did you?’

  ‘No, Mum,’ Ava admitted. ‘And neither should you.’ She waved her hand in the air. ‘Excusez-moi,’ she called to the waitress. ‘Another hot chocolate with extra cream and another chocolate brioche.’

  ‘For me?’ Rhoda asked tentatively.

  ‘Yes, for you,’ Ava said. ‘And while you sit there and enjoy every fat-laden morsel I’m going to tell you about something I need your help with.’

  49

  Place Des Vosges

  Julien was late and he had cursed the traffic the whole way across the city. A cab had slowed right in front of him and he had taken it, thinking it would be faster than heading to the Metro. He had been to see a possible venue for the exhibition. It was a light, bright dance studio with a view of Pont Neuf. On the floor were bare wooden boards and the walls were natural brick, one half of them lined with full-length mirrors. And it was available next week. He had closed his eyes as he stood there in the middle of the room, thinking about where to position his work, working out if there was room enough for guests to be comfortable weaving in and out of the artwork. And then he had opened his eyes and looked out at the river, Parisian life, moving along, heading towards Christmas, the end of another year and a new start when 2017 arrived. He’d turned and looked at the woman showing him around and booked it. He had a matter of days to get this together and he was both exhilarated and scared to death about it.

  He skidded through the snow into the square, looking for Ava. They hadn’t said which part of the park they were going to meet in. At a jog he rounded one of the fountains and began scouring the benches under the row of trees, bare-branched for the winter.

  ‘You’re late, Monsieur Fitoussi!’

  He turned around at the sound of Ava’s voice and saw her. He smiled, waving a hand, and began to hurry towards the bench she was sat on, red hat covering her hair, Converse still on her feet. He was so excited to tell her he had a venue, that they could begin to get things going, that he wanted her to meet his parents... Dinner tonight. He hoped getting both Vivienne and his father to see that this exhibition could not only be a reality but also be their chance to draw closer as a family and start the much-needed healing process. And he wanted Ava with him.

  She stood up as he got nearer and he took the last few paces slowly, drinking her in, remembering how close they had been last night. He stopped just in front of her, his breath catching in his throat.

  ‘You were right about this place,’ Ava stated, looking around.

  ‘An oasis, non?’ he said. ‘A little piece of quiet away from the city.’

  ‘And you never mentioned there was more than one fountain,’ Ava spoke. ‘You know how I love a fountain and there are four!’

  ‘Already I am fearing for my hat,’ Julien said, putting his hand to the hat she had bought him.

  She smiled and he couldn’t wait any longer. He took a step forward and took her into his arms, his lips finding hers, wanting to wrap her up against the cold weather.

  ‘I missed you,’ she whispered, looking into his eyes.

  ‘We have only been apart for fourteen hours... or so,’ he answered, his fingers straightening her hat.

  ‘You counted too,’ Ava said, grinning.

  He shook his head, laughing. ‘Walk with me?’ He offered her his hand.

  ‘Ooh, to celebrate Louis XIII and Anne of Austria?’ she asked, slipping her fingers between his.

  ‘Someone has been reading a guide book,’ he teased.

  ‘I might have had a quick look on Wikipedia to find out more about your favourite place,’ she admitted.

  ‘There was a celebration here when they married,’ Julien told her as they began to walk. ‘A carrousel.’

  ‘Do you think it still looks the same as it did then?’ Ava asked him.

  ‘I know there were not so many trees then... see, the linden trees,’ he stated, indicating the trees around them so spiky without their greenery. ‘In the summer, when everything is green, there are people on the grass and beneath the trees seeking shade and a little quiet. Reading, sleeping...’

  ‘Eating?’ Av
a asked.

  ‘The French love to picnic,’ he reminded. ‘A little vin rouge and...’

  ‘Camembert.’ Ava smiled.

  Julien squeezed her hand. ‘I have something to speak with you about.’

  ‘Me too,’ she replied.

  ‘Please, you first,’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘No, Louis XIII, this Anne of Austria isn’t abiding by how things were done in the seventeenth century. You first.’

  ‘OK.’ He breathed deeply. ‘I have found a place for my exhibition.’

  ‘You have!’ Ava exclaimed. ‘Where?’

  ‘It is a large, open, studio with a view over the Seine, by Pont Neuf. It is a blank canvas but one with character and the light there... it is just right, there are mirrors and...’ he said, full of enthusiasm.

  ‘How many people does it hold?’

  ‘A hundred,’ he replied. ‘I know it will be tight, but if I use mounts in the middle of the room together with the walls and—’

  ‘A hundred,’ Ava stated, swallowing.

  ‘You think I will not fill the room? That it will look empty?’ That no one will come. He kept that thought to himself.

  She laughed. ‘No, actually, the exact opposite. I’d better tell you my news.’

  He stopped walking and turned to face her, expectant.

  ‘My mother is here.’

  He hadn’t been expecting that. ‘Oh... that is... a surprise.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ava answered. ‘And when I saw her I thought about jumping on the Eurostar back to St Pancras International. And then...’ She sighed.

  ‘Then?’

  ‘Then I actually told her, really told her that I was never modelling again.’ She let go of a tight breath. ‘And we talked... we talked, Julien. We actually had a conversation that didn’t only involve her telling me goji berries were the in thing for your digestive tract... and it turns out... she misses me. It hasn’t really been about the modelling... well, not all of it and... I think we understand each other a little better.’

  He smiled, squeezing her hands in his. ‘I am so pleased for you, Madonna.’

  ‘But, the thing about my mum is... she’s not someone who can be idle.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I mean, I can’t remember the last time she took a holiday... probably her honeymoon twenty-five years ago.’

  ‘So...’ His core was tightening preparing for the worst. Ava was going to leave. Return to England with her mother. He knew she was going to have to go eventually, but now?

  ‘So I’ve given her a job,’ Ava stated. ‘I know I should have asked you first but I just jumped at the opportunity. Seized the day.’

  ‘Madonna, what have you done?’

  ‘I asked her to use every contact she has to get people here for your exhibition,’ Ava announced. ‘She just needs a date and a time and all the other information and, Julien, if there is one thing I know about my mother’s contact list, it’s that it includes some very, very rich people who are going to want to buy your photographs for a great cause.’

  He was speechless. He really didn’t know what to say. No one had ever done anything like that for him before.

  ‘God, are you cross? Was it a step too far? I’m sorry, I can call her and I can tell her—’

  He silenced her with a kiss, her lips warm against his as the snow flurries cooled every other part of them. He touched his palm to her cheek and watched her blink back at him. ‘I do not know what to say,’ he finally spoke.

  ‘I did a good thing?’ she queried.

  ‘You are not sure?’ he inquired. ‘Do I need to kiss you again?’

  She laughed. ‘I think I’d like you to do that anyway.’

  He moved towards her again but this time she stopped him, putting the flat of her hand against his chest.

  ‘But first I think we need to rethink this venue,’ she said. ‘Because with Rhoda Devlin on the case we need to be thinking more in the high three-figure range.’

  ‘Really?’ Julien asked.

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Then I need to take some more photographs.’ He kissed her lips again, then held her away from him, just enjoying watching her expression. ‘There is something else,’ he stated.

  ‘Didier is moving in with you?’ she asked. ‘That was a hopeful plea.’

  He shook his head. ‘No... my parents have invited me to dinner tonight and I would very much like you to come with me.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ava said.

  He noted the visible swallow and he reached for her hands again. ‘You do not have to, if you feel it would be... not right. I just thought...’

  ‘Are they going to ask me lots of difficult questions about French history or the euro or anything to do with opera?’ Ava inquired.

  Julien laughed. ‘I hope not or I will not last past the first course.’

  ‘There’s going to be more than one course?’

  ‘My step-mother makes a wonderful clafoutis.’

  ‘I have no idea what that is but it sounds delicious.’

  ‘So you will come?’ Julien asked her.

  She nodded. ‘I will come.’ She pulled at his hands, dragging him along the path. ‘Now, treat me like a queen and get me my next caffeine fix.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Very well, Madonna. Café it is.’

  And then he saw her stop smiling, her face whitening as she gazed across the park.

  ‘Ava?’ he queried. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s that man...’ Her voice was weak, uncertain, perhaps a little afraid. ‘That man over there.’ She lifted her hand in an attempt to point.

  He looked to where she was indicating and saw a tall man wearing a navy blue winter coat and carrying a briefcase.

  Looking back to Ava he saw her swallow. ‘It’s Debs’ step-dad,’ she said. ‘It’s Gary.’

  50

  Ava couldn’t quite believe it. He really was in Paris. The silent phone calls, the Skyping, the mention of his name in the boutique, the email on Francine’s PC, everything she had put down to something else, to her not hearing properly, to something work-related, and here, now, when he was supposed to be in Toulouse, Gary was in Paris.

  ‘Should we do something?’ Julien asked her.

  She couldn’t speak. She was just watching Gary, making his way through the park, heading towards the fountain just ahead of them like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘Ava,’ Julien stated.

  ‘We need to follow him,’ she responded, shaking herself back into the moment.

  ‘We could catch up to him,’ Julien suggested, holding his hand out to her.

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want him to see us. I need to see where he’s going.’

  ‘But if you speak to him...’

  ‘Julien, don’t you know anything about the work of private investigators? It’s called “private” for a reason.’ She took his hand in hers. ‘Come on or we’ll lose him.’

  They followed Gary to a restaurant and watched him being shown to a table for two they could just about see from the street. Ava had tears in her eyes. A table for two. In Paris. When he was meant to be somewhere else. There was only one person he was going to be meeting. Debs had been right all along. Sue was right to be concerned about her marriage. History was about to repeat itself.

  ‘You are OK?’ Julien asked.

  She shook her head, unable to commit to an answer.

  ‘You should not worry,’ Julien said. ‘Nothing has happened.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Well, he has just gone into a restaurant. There are many reasons why he might do this.’

  ‘Like for lunch?’ Ava suggested. ‘Or a coffee... on his own... in a city he isn’t even meant to be in.’ She looked through the window, hat pulled low on her head. ‘I can’t believe he’s doing this. He knew what Sue and Debs went through before. He promised them forever. A new beginning.’

  The words felt bitter as they left her mouth. Here
she was, having stood up to her mother for the very first time, with a man she had deeply fallen for, on the brink of breaking out into the exciting unknown, and her best friend was about to have her whole world turned upside down.

  ‘I need to go in there,’ Ava stated.

  ‘I thought you did not want him to see you.’

  ‘That was before he waltzed in there and sat down... with a newspaper for God’s sake... reading it like he’s relaxed... like he’s waiting for a lover.’ She stepped towards the entrance. ‘I need to just go in there and ask him what he’s doing here when he’s meant to be in Toulouse.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Julien began, ‘maybe you should call Debs.’

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to do that for so many reasons. The first involved her friend hammering out an article to get this job she craved for professional reasons and would now need more than ever to support her and her mum. The other reasons were because she didn’t know how she was going to tell Debs that Gary was here. That Gary was a cheat. That although Gary had been seemingly love-struck on his wedding day waltzing Sue around the floor to ‘Everything I Do, I Do It For You’, everything he was now doing was for someone called Francine.

  ‘I can’t,’ Ava admitted. ‘What do I say to her?’

  ‘Madonna, I am here for you, whatever you want to do, but if you really do not want him to see you, you need to move away from the door.’

  Ava stepped back and there was a shriek. Someone’s foot was underneath her Converse and when she looked up into the owner’s face she saw it was Francine.

  ‘Sorry,’ Ava said on autopilot. She wasn’t sorry. She wished she’d stepped back twice as hard.

  ‘I know you,’ Francine replied. ‘From my office. A rainbow I can grow at home.’

  Ava’s blood was boiling. This woman was about to walk into the restaurant and sit down for a tryst with Gary. She wished she had a Waitrose shelf of things to throw at her.

  ‘Here to see your boyfriend?’ Ava spat.

  ‘Ava,’ Julien said, taking hold of her arm.

  ‘Pardon?’ Francine said, taken aback but pushing by, trying to ignore her.