by Ali McNamara
Hurry up, Sean, I willed, looking through the wire barriers yet again. I shivered—this wasn’t fun anymore. I reached into my bag for my phone; maybe he’d tried to call and I hadn’t heard it? Or maybe the signal wasn’t that good up here?
It took a few moments of grappling about in my bag before I remembered I’d put my phone on to charge in the hotel room. I’d been so busy choosing what I was going to wear and deciding what I was going to write that I hadn’t remembered to pick it up again—damn!
***
By nine o’clock I was starting to get very cold, as well as extremely fed up. I sheltered as best I could toward the center of the tower, on one of the benches tucked away beneath the iron girders.
“If he doesn’t come in the next half an hour, I’ll go and get a coffee,” I promised myself, thinking of the cafeteria on the second floor. I daren’t leave just yet—I had to know if he would come.
Two cups of coffee later and seven “Would you mind taking a photo of us?” requests from fellow visitors, Sean still wasn’t there.
I looked at my watch again. It was now 10:20. The last lift came up at 10:30 in the winter—he was running out of time.
I went to look out at the view once more—the Trocadero Gardens and the bridges across the River Seine were becoming quite familiar by now—and if I squinted hard enough I could even see across to Montmartre and the illuminated Sacré-Coeur. I’d stood outside this huge Roman Catholic church—or basilica, as my guidebook had informed me it was correctly known as, this afternoon: the Sacré-Coeur was the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. All this waiting around wasn’t doing my heart or my nerves any good, that was for sure.
My gaze wandered back to the inside of the tower again. A couple standing a little way along from me were giggling and whispering to each other when suddenly the man dropped to one knee.
Oh no, this was all I needed right now.
The girl apparently answered his proposal in the affirmative because they were suddenly superglued together at the mouth.
Deciding to leave them to it, I dismally began to walk away.
“Excuse me?” I heard them call.
I turned around.
“Do you speak English?” the man asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Would you mind awfully taking a photo of us? Only Helen and I, well…we’ve just got engaged!” They gazed happily into each other’s eyes again.
“Sure, why not?” I agreed.
“Just push this button,” the man said, holding out his camera. “It’s quite easy.”
I knew it was, because I’d already taken three photos of couples tonight on cameras identical to this one.
“Smile,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.
They didn’t need much encouragement.
I took the photo and passed the camera back to the man.
“Thank you so much,” Helen said, smiling at me. “It’s wonderful, Alexander and I will have this moment recorded for ever now.”
“Would you like a photo taken?” Alexander asked, looking around.
He was obviously sussing out whether I was with anyone.
“No, no, thank you,” I said. But not wanting to look too sad, I added, “I’m waiting for someone.”
“At this time of night?” He looked at his watch. “Bit late, aren’t they?”
“Alex, stop it,” Helen said. “I think it’s romantic; it’s just like in that film, isn’t it…the Meg Ryan one? What was it called now…”
“Oh, do you mean When Harry Met Sally?” Alex suggested helpfully.
“No, not that one, er…it had Tom Hanks in it…”
“Hmm…” Alex thought again. “Oh, I know—You’ve Got Mail, they were both in that!”
“No…oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“Sleepless in Seattle,” I answered quickly, before they carried on all night.
“Yes, of course,” Helen said with relief. “That’s it. But she was on top of the Empire State Building, wasn’t she—waiting, I mean?”
“Actually, the son was. But it’s a similar situation, yes.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Is it your husband you’re waiting for?”
“No.”
“Fiancé?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes,” I lied. “My boyfriend.” I tutted. “I’ll kill him if he doesn’t get here soon.”
“Quite right too—it is Valentine’s Day, after all.” She looked up adoringly at Alex again. “And you need to be with the one you love on Valentine’s Day.”
As if I needed reminding.
“Well, I hope for your sake he gets here soon. I think it’s so romantic arranging to meet someone here tonight. Isn’t it, Alex?”
Alex nodded lovingly at Helen. “Indeed it is, darling.” Then he looked across at me again. “You must love him very much to wait this long. I hope he deserves you.” He put his arm around his future bride. “We’d better get going, Helen.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for the photo, hope everything works out for you.”
“Yes, never give up on someone you love,” Helen said dreamily. “Good-bye now.”
I watched them walk off, their arms tightly around each other, and suddenly I felt very alone.
How I could I have been so stupid? I could have spent Valentine’s Day in Paris with a man that truly loved me, that wanted to marry me and spend the rest of his life with me. And instead I’d spent it running around overpriced luggage shops, sightseeing on my own, and freezing my arse off on top of a pointy French tourist trap. Although…there had been the Johnny Depp incident…I shook my head. No, even that had hardly been a great success.
And if my life really was like a movie, I’d turn around right now, just as the last lift of the night was arriving, the doors would open, and Sean would be standing there with a look of desperation about him and have a wonderful story of how he’d been delayed by something dramatic, like a bank heist or a bomb scare.
I turned around, and sure enough the last lift of the night was just arriving. I watched hopefully as the doors opened…and inside there was a man standing there…but unfortunately it was just the lift attendant, who did indeed have a look of desperation about him—but desperation of a different sort.
I took one last poignant look out over the Paris skyline before climbing into the lift beside him. While we waited for the last few remaining visitors to be rounded up, I glanced at the uniformed man standing opposite me. He was middle-aged and balding, with a lazy eye and a pot belly that hung over the top of his leather belt. He smelt of tobacco and something else—which I think was his aftershave but smelt more like furniture polish. He grinned at me and I caught sight of his nicotine-stained teeth. Politely, I smiled back then looked away, but not before I’d noticed the badge pinned to the front of his overall, which confirmed my fears from earlier, that if this idea of mine went wrong, like it had so spectacularly, I would indeed end the evening with a Frenchman called Pierre. The lift deposited me safely at the base of the tower again, and as I sat on an almost deserted Metro train, I could think of nothing other than what a complete disaster tonight had been. I was so sure that Sean would meet me at the top of the Eiffel Tower that I hadn’t given any thought to what would happen if he didn’t.
Had he not seen my note lying at the base of his door? And if not, why not? Why hadn’t he come back to the hotel tonight? What if something had happened to him today…an accident…or worse?
Actually the “worse” could be that he had come back to the hotel, had read my note, and I’d scared him off. Maybe I’d taken it a step too far by suggesting something so romantic as meeting me up there. Maybe Sean did only want to be friends. Just friends.
My head was spinning with so many thoughts and scenarios when I finally reached the hotel that I had to stand outside for a few seconds, calming myself with deep breaths before going in.
It was a busy street we were staying in, full of lively bars and pr
etty restaurants. As I stood outside, the clink of wine glasses and the sound of happy, excited voices wafted down the road toward me. I glanced at the bistro opposite—it looked a charming place. The tables were adorned with red and white checked cotton cloths, and in the center of each one a wine bottle covered in wax held a lit candle. It reminded me of…where? Ah yes, the little Italian restaurant Sean and I had dined in together the night we arrived in Glasgow.
But that wasn’t the only thing that reminded me of that night. For sitting at one of the window tables was a couple.
They were chatting and laughing—much as Sean and I had done that night. In fact, when I looked at them more carefully I noticed the man actually resembled Sean quite a bit—he had the same build, hair color…eyes. But as the waiter moved away from their table and the couple stood up to leave, that’s where the similarity with my night in Glasgow ended—because the man then kissed the woman on the cheek, and they hugged.
Sean certainly hadn’t done that to me in Glasgow…but he was definitely doing it tonight, right in front of my eyes—to the woman he was having dinner with in the restaurant across the road.
Twenty-Three
I stared in disbelief at them for a few more seconds before I turned and ran into the hotel. I didn’t wait for the lift—I took the stairs instead. Four flights later and a sprint down the corridor I opened my hotel room door, slammed it shut behind me, and flung myself onto the bed, breathing heavily.
As I lay and stared hard at the ceiling, I wondered how I could have been so stupid.
How could I have even thought that Sean would want to meet me tonight? He obviously had other plans. Maybe those other plans had been made even before he’d found out about my mother? And the whole “business” thing had just been to spare my feelings today.
The conclusions I’d reached less than an hour ago at the top of the Eiffel Tower had been right. I should have spent today with David—I’d been selfish and stupid. He was the one who loved me and wanted to be with me—not Sean. I reached over and unplugged my phone, still charging at the side of the bed. I’d call David now and tell him how much I loved him.
I glanced at the screen. There were several missed calls, and two unopened texts waiting for me.
The first text was from David thanking me for one I’d sent him earlier. I hadn’t spent the whole day being a complete idiot—I had actually remembered to wish my fiancé a happy Valentine’s Day.
The second was from Sean. I hesitated before opening it—did I really want to read more lies and excuses?
But, I had to know—so I pressed OPEN on the menu.
Where r u? Hav been trying 2 call. Won’t b back @ hotel till late 2night, something’s cropped up. Hope u had fun afternoon, Sean.
PS Call me when u get this, worried about u.
Yeah, I bet you are, I thought, thinking about the restaurant. Then I remembered my note. Damn, he’d see it when he got back tonight. If only I could get into his room and find it before he did. At least then I wouldn’t look so stupid. Sean would rib me about this forever when he found out I’d been sitting at the top of the Eiffel Tower alone all night.
I sat up and looked around the room.
Hmm…now what did I have that was flat enough to slip underneath his door…Where was a ruler when you needed one?
I looked through my suitcase for something suitable. Shoes—too wide; comb—too short. Wait, I know…I felt at the bottom of the case underneath my bridesmaid dress carefully packed away in its protective cover and found what I was looking for.
I’d bought the L-plates to pin on Maddie on her hen night, but one of the other girls had got to her first with her own. I’d felt a bit peeved at the time—after all, I was the one who was chief bridesmaid. But now that the plates were needed for more important matters I was grateful she’d beaten me to it.
I crept out of my room and knocked gently on Sean’s door, just in case I hadn’t heard him come back. Then I ran back into my own room and pressed my ear to the inside of the door. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with Sean tonight unless it was absolutely necessary.
After a minute or so, happy there was no sound from the next room, I crept out into the hall again. I checked up and down the corridor, making sure no one was about. When I was sure the coast was clear, I knelt down on the floor and tried to look into the tiny gap at the bottom of Sean’s door.
I couldn’t see a thing, let alone whether there was a note still lying there. So I tried to insert one of the L-plates into the gap, and to my surprise it fitted. Slowly I moved the plastic from side to side under the door, and then I felt it catch something—at last, my note! I tried to get my L-plate on top of the paper to pull it toward me but it was having none of it and doggedly remained on the other side.
“Can we help at all?” I heard a voice above me say.
I froze, then very slowly turned my face up toward it. An elderly couple were standing over me looking perplexed. They were wearing smart evening dress and were obviously on their way back from a night out.
“Have you locked yourself out of your room, dear?” the woman asked, peering at me over the top of her glasses. Her snow-white hair, which was tied up tightly on top of her head in a bun, glowed like a halo around her head with the fluorescent light of the hallway behind it.
“Er…no…” I looked down at the L-plate still clutched in my hand. “Er…they’ve just got married and…we thought it would be funny if they found some L-plates in their room in the morning. Yes, that’s it…you know, Just Married…‘learners’ on their wedding night?” I scrambled to my feet.
“Oh…” The man, who was almost bald, cleared his throat. “Oh right, of course, we understand, don’t we, Marion?”
Marion looked at me suspiciously and then leaned in toward my ear. “Thing is, dear,” she whispered. “I don’t think many of them are these days.”
“Are?”
“Learners, dear. I know I wasn’t on my wedding night.” She winked at me. “Never mind though—it’s the thought that counts.” She put her arm through her husband’s. “Come along, Gilbert, should we pretend it’s our wedding night again? It’ll be better than the usual routine, and at least we won’t need any talcum powder for the rubber suits!”
Gilbert’s face suggested he thought that was a very good idea indeed.
Marion turned to me again. “Rubber can be so chafing in the most awkward of places, don’t you know?”
I hurriedly nodded.
“Well, good night, dear. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She winked again. “I know I will!”
I watched open-mouthed while the couple walked away arm in arm, steadying each other as they went. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my mind of the unwanted images of Marion and Gilbert that were beginning to fill it.
The L-plates weren’t getting me anywhere, so I decided to return to my own room.
How much longer do I have? I thought as I paced about the floor. Sean and his companion had appeared to be leaving the restaurant when I saw them. Maybe they’d gone on somewhere else or were having a drink in the hotel bar? Otherwise they’d have been back by now.
I walked to the window to see if I could make out anything down below. There was a small balcony outside, so I opened the French windows and stepped out on to it. I looked toward the bistro but couldn’t see anything, only another couple wandering along the street on their way home.
When I turned to go back inside I noticed that the net curtain in Sean’s room was billowing out of his window. If the curtain was able to get out, that meant…
I looked at the distance between the two balconies. It wasn’t too bad; I could probably stretch my legs between the two—I shouldn’t fall.
Listen to yourself, Scarlett. You shouldn’t fall? You shouldn’t be going across there in the first place!
But I couldn’t bear the thought of Sean seeing that note. It would have been bad enough normally, but now I knew he’d spent the evening with another
woman it would make my embarrassment even more painful. I had to get it back.
I took a deep breath before turning to face the wall, then, holding on to a drainpipe with one hand, tentatively dangled my leg over the edge of my own balcony and toward Sean’s. “Thank you, God,” I whispered, as my foot felt something solid underneath and I was able to place it down on a firm surface once again. So now I was straddled between the two rooms—one leg on each balcony—I had to take the next brave step and bring my right leg over to meet my left.
I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, and, before I could change my mind, quickly swung my other leg over the gap and on to Sean’s balcony.
“Phew,” I said, opening my eyes again. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”
Gently I pried open the French windows and slipped quietly inside. The room was in darkness.
Please don’t let him have come back without me knowing, I thought, hurriedly trying to remember where the light switch was in my own room.
I stumbled, literally, into a floor lamp, and after groping about for the switch for a few moments, managed to turn it on. At once the room was flooded with light.
I breathed another sigh of relief when I saw the bed was empty. I looked toward the door and saw my note lying innocently at the base of it. Quickly I ran toward it and was just about to reach down to pick it up, my Mission Impossible complete, when I heard a key card being slotted into the other side of the door.
Shit! I thought, looking around me. I grabbed for the handle of a door that in my room would have led to the bathroom. But I hadn’t realized the rooms were set out as a mirror image of each other, and I found myself opening the door to a built-in wardrobe. I had no time to go elsewhere, so I quickly climbed inside and pulled the door to as best I could without a handle to help me.
I heard Sean’s voice first and then a woman’s.
“Sean, I’m impressed,” the woman said. “You’ve certainly come up in the world since I knew you. Better class hotels and better class rooms.”