One Christmas in Paris

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘I liked Leo,’ Rhoda reminded.

  ‘I know you did but, even discounting the whole cheating on me thing, he wasn’t the right person for me.’

  ‘And this Julien is?’ Rhoda asked.

  ‘Yes, this Julien is.’

  ‘One other thing,’ Rhoda said.

  ‘Just one?’

  ‘Why didn’t I know you could draw?’

  Ava opened her mouth to respond.

  ‘Bonjour.’

  She turned her head quickly, almost upending her cup with her elbow, and saw that Julien was at their table. She stood up and got caught between embracing him and shaking his hand in an awkward move that involved a lot of shuffling.

  ‘Hi, Julien, wow, gosh, you’re here!’ Ava said. ‘This is my mother, Rhoda Devlin. Mum, this is—’

  ‘Good morning, Ms Devlin, it is a pleasure to meet you,’ Julien greeted, offering his hand across the table to Rhoda.

  ‘Good morning, Monsieur Fitoussi,’ Rhoda greeted, indicating the third chair at the table. ‘Please sit down before Ava knocks all the crockery over. We were about to have eggs, crepes and bacon.’

  * * *

  Julien could feel Ava’s tension as she poked her breakfast around her plate, not making any noises of enjoyment or saying very much at all. She had drunk half a cup of coffee and sipped on some water, barely any of the food touching her lips.

  ‘So, have you always been a photographer?’ Rhoda asked. ‘I have looked at your work on your website and it is very good.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Julien answered. ‘And the answer to your question is yes and no. I used to work with my father in the financial sector but I found it is not where my passion lies.’

  ‘It’s a steady income though, isn’t it? Money at the end of the month rather than... maybe no money at all?’ Rhoda countered.

  ‘But is it not a little the same for modelling?’ he asked. ‘Some weeks an assignment, others not?’

  ‘There’s a great deal more to modelling than actually modelling, Mr Fitoussi.’

  ‘Please, call me, Julien.’

  ‘I run a very successful agency. We deal with rising stars in the whole of the entertainment industry as well as models.’

  ‘Ava has told me,’ Julien stated. ‘She is very proud to have a mother with such an entrepreneurial spirit.’

  He watched Rhoda’s eyes fall to Ava who had the good grace to smile.

  ‘Did you really say that?’ Rhoda asked her daughter.

  ‘I may not quite have said the word “entrepreneurial” exactly.’

  Rhoda carried on. ‘I had hoped Ava would take over one day.’

  ‘Ah,’ Julien said. ‘You are like my father. He too thinks that I can be like him and step into his shoes when it is time for him to retire.’

  ‘But you’re not going to do that,’ Rhoda said. ‘You’re going to carry on taking photographs.’

  ‘Yes, Ms Devlin, that is right. And maybe one day, when I have children, I will try to remember that trying to shape their paths is only something they are going to go out of their way to rebel against when they are older.’ He smiled.

  ‘Julien didn’t mean you, Mum,’ Ava said quickly. ‘I mean, not that I thought he was talking about you or anything. He’s just very sure of his own path and... we’re not having children yet... or at all... at the moment... or soon.’ She stopped talking and hid her mouth in her coffee cup.

  ‘I do admire people who know what they want in life,’ Rhoda said, sipping at her coffee. ‘My issue is that Ava has never had a clear direction of her own.’

  ‘No?’ Julien asked. He broke a piece of croissant off the crescent-moon-shaped pastry and popped it into his mouth.

  ‘No. And that’s why I thought modelling would be the right path for her.’

  ‘You decide this when?’ Julien asked. ‘She tells me her first modelling job was when she was just four years old.’

  ‘Well,’ Rhoda began. ‘That particular job was just something that fell into our laps really.’

  ‘I apologise,’ Julien said. ‘I did not mean to sound rude. It is just, I believe everybody’s passion comes at different times. For you, Ms Devlin, modelling was what you wanted to do and you knew this with all your heart, yes?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Rhoda answered.

  ‘For me, although I fooled around with a camera, it was not until I was in a job that I did not like that I realised what it was I wanted to do. And sometimes it is hard, sometimes, when the money is not coming in so steadily, I have to take photographs that do not make my soul sing.’ He smiled. ‘But, I always know now what I should be doing.’

  ‘Apparently Ava draws,’ Rhoda stated. ‘I didn’t know that she drew.’

  ‘I drew the tattoo, Mum,’ Ava reminded. ‘The tattoo you didn’t like.’

  Rhoda swallowed. ‘Well... that was a long time ago and... it wasn’t that the tattoo wasn’t good it was that it was on you.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Julien, would you care for some more coffee?’

  ‘Thank you, Ms Devlin.’

  ‘Oh, please, call me Rhoda.’

  ‘Rhoda,’ he said, nodding.

  ‘Now, let’s talk some more about this exhibition,’ Rhoda said, smiling. ‘I have to admit, I do love a challenge and I think it’s shaping up to be an incredible event for a marvellous cause.’

  ‘And Ava and I, we want to thank you so much for all the work you are putting into this. We could not be doing it without you,’ he said.

  ‘Well, it isn’t how I thought I would be spending the run-up to Christmas but—’

  ‘Thank you, Mum,’ Ava piped up. ‘For everything.’

  Julien watched a look pass between mother and daughter and very slowly he sat back in his seat.

  63

  Julien Fitoussi’s apartment

  Ava watched Julien as he slept. It was the day of the exhibition and they had spent the previous days and nights working until late making sure everything was set up to be perfect for this one night. Each day had presented a different challenge, but Ava was almost confident that all the bases were covered. So many tickets had been bought already and they were set to raise a vast amount for the Red Cross before even one photograph had been purchased.

  Already showered and dressed, her hat and coat on, she sat softly down next to him and trailed her fingers through his hair. She wanted this event to be a success more than she’d ever wanted anything to go well in her life before.

  ‘Madonna,’ he whispered, his tone coated with tiredness.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ she urged.

  ‘What time is it?’ He started to sit up.

  ‘It’s early. Not before my first coffee early but before the department stores open early. And you didn’t get to bed until two,’ Ava reminded.

  ‘And you did not let me sleep until three,’ he said, leaning forward and kissing her.

  ‘You needed to de-stress,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘You are dressed already.’

  ‘I’m going to the Place des Vosges to meet Debs, Didier, my mother and a team of people she seems to have under her employ to set up for tonight.’

  ‘Vivienne is making arrangements for the wedding but she said she could meet you there at two.’

  ‘Great,’ Ava replied. ‘Please tell her to bring pastis. I will definitely need it by then.’ She smiled. ‘Sorry, my mother being strangely human lately is freaking me out.’

  Julien smiled, taking her hand in his. ‘She likes me.’

  ‘And I have no idea why. You’ve practically shot her down every time you’ve opened your mouth.’

  ‘In a very genteel way,’ he reminded. ‘You would like me to change my opinions to match hers?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then?’

  ‘I think she likes you more than she likes me.’

  ‘I see this as a positive for now.’

  ‘I have to go,’ Ava said, standing up. ‘You know what you have to
do?’

  ‘Hide? Run away?’ Julien asked.

  ‘Don’t you dare! I may be able to sell luxury apartments but I don’t know the first thing about photographs.’

  ‘Ava, you were a model,’ he reminded. ‘And now you are dating a photographer. You know everything there is to know about photographs.’

  ‘I’m focussing on the word dating.’

  ‘Very amusing,’ he answered.

  ‘Seriously, Monsieur Fitoussi, it’s a big day,’ Ava said. ‘For everybody.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re going to see your dad. You’re going to phone the caterers and make sure they got the lactose intolerant email so the Countess of Whatever doesn’t die before she’s bought a piece of art and you’re going to—’

  ‘Spend the rest of the day wishing I was here, in bed with you, and tonight was over.’

  ‘Wishing the day away, Monsieur Fitoussi?’ she asked, one eyebrow arching skywards. ‘We don’t wish the day away. We embrace every second. Every new sunrise brings the possibility of possibilities.’

  ‘Madonna, I do hope that was sincere.’

  ‘Au naturellement,’ she answered.

  He caught her hand again. ‘I will see my father. I will phone the caterers and I will promise that the day after tomorrow I will take you to the best wedding party you have ever been to,’ he stated.

  ‘You want me to go to the wedding with you?’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘I wish you’d have told me this earlier. I’ve only got one smart dress and I’m wearing that tonight.’

  ‘You can wear it to the wedding also, no?’

  ‘Are you joking? Wear the same thing in the same week, when my mother’s in town? She would kill me! The gods of fashion would send Gok Wan and a plague of stylists!’

  ‘Madonna,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘Do not worry about the dress today.’

  ‘No, you’re right. I’m too busy worrying about countesses with allergies and “moving pictures” and projectors and the fact Didier has mentioned the school of mime… Did you know they had a school of mime here?’

  Julien laughed. ‘I find it worrying that you might think they do not.’

  ‘I can’t even speak about it right now,’ Ava exclaimed.

  ‘You do not need to,’ Julien replied. ‘It is mime.’

  She grabbed one of his pillows and hit him over the head with it. ‘That is not funny.’

  Julien put his hands up in the air and made a pretence of walking them up an imaginary wall.

  ‘I hope you realise how completely unsexy that is,’ she stated, trying to keep her expression on frustrated.

  ‘Really?’ he asked, walking his hands through the air towards her.

  ‘And you’re not funny,’ she added, his fingers working up and down the air in front of her face.

  ‘No?’ he asked. ‘Not funny or a little sexy?’ He stood up then, the duvet falling from his body and his naked form settling a few inches away from her. Ava swallowed, immediately wanting to press herself against that gorgeous body and lose herself in him again.

  ‘I need to go,’ she said, her voice wavering a little at the strain of keeping her composure and not touching him.

  ‘Go, Madonna?’ he asked. ‘Or come?’

  ‘You can’t say that!’ Ava exclaimed. ‘It’s like... talking about licking on the streets of Paris.’

  He raised both his eyebrows then as if waiting for her response.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Being on time is overrated anyway.’ She threw down her handbag, wrenched off her hat and pushed him back down onto the bed.

  64

  Place Des Vosges

  Ava eyed the sky above the Parisian park. Clouds were forming and the blue sky of earlier in the day looked set to turn into a very dirty shade of cream. The possibility of snow they were ready for, the chance of rain – cold, wet, freezing winter rain – they were not.

  ‘What if it rains?’ Ava asked, directing the question towards Didier and Debs who were both poking at an iPad and laptop.

  ‘It will not rain,’ Didier answered. ‘Pierre! Where are the red carpets?’

  Ava looked to the male Didier was addressing who looked no older than sixteen.

  ‘They are on their way, Didier. There is traffic,’ Pierre responded.

  ‘There is always traffic in Paris. Why do people not realise this?’

  The boy went to make off towards one of the two large marquees covering the west side of the square.

  ‘Pierre!’ Didier called again.

  The boy stopped and turned back. ‘Yes, Didier.’

  ‘I want to know as soon as the photographs start to arrive.’

  ‘Yes, Didier.’

  ‘Who is that?’ Ava asked Debs, nudging her arm.

  ‘Pierre?’ Debs said, eyes still on her screen.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘My cousin,’ Didier answered. ‘He is a very clever boy. We can rely on him. I have Anais and David also working. At the moment they are arranging the programmes for the evening into the shapes of a dove... for peace.’

  Ava shook her head. The whole tranquil setting Julien had shown her was at the moment one big circus of activity. She only hoped, when it was time to start inviting in guests, everything would calm down a little. She wanted it to be more sedate garden party than all-flashing Hollywood.

  ‘Ava’s right. The weather forecast says it might rain,’ Debs announced, eyes lifting from the laptop and looking at Ava in horror.

  ‘It will not rain,’ Didier insisted, almost appearing cross at the challenge to his previous statement.

  ‘We’re in trouble if it rains,’ Ava said. ‘The lighting and the projections on the buildings... it really isn’t going to be the same if we have to have it undercover.’

  ‘It’s always a risk when you have an outdoor event but I’m totes confident that it won’t put people off buying Julien’s gorgeous photos.’

  ‘It isn’t just about the photos though, is it?’ Ava sighed. It was about the photos and the charity, she knew that, but what she really wanted from this night was for it to be both a culmination of everything she had shared with Julien and a chance for his father and Vivienne to move on towards their special day in two days’ time. Perhaps it was asking too much expecting it to be all things. Maybe the predicted rain was a reminder that life wasn’t perfect.

  ‘You need another coffee,’ Debs said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘I need another coffee too, s’il te plaît,’ Didier said, blowing air into a balloon.

  ‘Ask Pierre!’ Debs said, waving a hand and moving with Ava across one of the pathways.

  * * *

  ‘Better?’ Debs asked once Ava had inhaled a mouthful of scalding, deep dark roast.

  Ava nodded, taking a second sip and letting the caffeine kick in.

  ‘Look at this place,’ Debs said, satisfaction in her tone.

  She had to admit, despite the chaotic moving to and fro of crates (hopefully containing Julien’s work), chairs, tables, lights and cameras it was starting to look a little like a winter wonderland. The frost on the trees hadn’t thawed despite the winter sun and small boxes were being tied to the branches – red, white and blue like the French flag along with glass lanterns to contain candles, newly donated by a local shop who had seen the advertisement in one of the newspapers. People walking through the park stopped to look, taking fliers from one of Didier’s relatives or someone her mother had hired, that contained the website and telephone number for them to donate to the cause.

  ‘I had no idea when I came here that I would be in the middle of all of this,’ Ava said, finding the moment almost overwhelming.

  ‘You thought you would be spending a few days running around Paris dressed as a croissant for some crazy scheme of mine,’ Debs said, linking her arm through her friend’s.

  ‘Instead we spent half the time chasing after a Frenchwoman with a pair of binoculars. Seriously, how
did this happen?’ Ava asked with half a laugh.

  ‘Well, I have to say, if we are really going to unravel everything, I think it all started when I suggested we took a chance and had dinner with two intriguing Frenchmen.’

  ‘So you’re taking the credit for this, are you?’

  ‘Not for this,’ Debs said. ‘But maybe an incy wincy bit for you meeting Julien.’

  Ava smiled. She had to give her friend that one. ‘OK,’ she replied. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘And also don’t forget it was my need for some romance in my writing that got you a dinner on the Seine and I think that might have been when the real magic started to happen. Am I right?’

  Ava blushed. ‘Sooo, about that article... all good with Nigel?’

  ‘I have a salary “package”,’ Debs announced. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had one of those.’

  ‘Wow! Free lunches? Gym membership?’

  ‘Yes and a company that comes round and massages you at your desk,’ Debs informed, shrugging as if her shoulders were stiff already.

  ‘A desk!’ Ava exclaimed. ‘A desk! Not your dressing table at home.’

  ‘I know!’ Debs said. ‘A proper grown-up again.’

  Ava smiled. ‘A proper grown-up with a proper wish list.’

  ‘Boring aren’t I?’

  ‘No,’ Ava said. ‘Not boring, just very sure of what you want.’

  ‘Still no advance on getting drunk and buying a dog?’ Debs asked.

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  ‘Paris looks good on you, Ava,’ Debs stated, observing her friend.

  ‘Does it?’ Ava asked.

  ‘You’re not the same spiky blonde I got on the Eurostar with.’

  ‘Really? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.’

  ‘It’s meant as one.’ Debs breathed in. ‘I don’t know, I see a change in you, that’s all. Maybe it’s the love in the air.’

  Ava laughed. ‘Or maybe it’s the amount of red wine you’ve been drinking with Didier.’

  ‘You know we’re going home on Christmas Eve,’ Debs reminded.