‘I’d love my eggs scrambled,’ I replied. Then, pinching myself theatrically on the forearm, I asked him whether I was dreaming and about to wake up in the gutter where he’d found me the night before.
‘Mummy, why would you sleep in a caniveau?’ Lila exclaimed in a horrified voice, drawing a blank when she tried to find the English word ‘gutter’. ‘They are all dirty and full of germs.’
‘Talking of germs, Dr Lila, I think we should both wash our hands before we touch any food,’ Matthias suggested, winking at me over the top of my daughter’s puzzled head. I was so grateful to him for deflecting Lila’s attention away from the disturbing image I’d called forth that, on a whim, I blew him a kiss. Laying my head on the armrest of the sofa and closing my eyes, I continued eavesdropping on their banter while Matthias cooked up a storm, marvelling at how this man I’d met only twice before seemed to know instinctively how to handle this new situation. He proceeded to take charge of our day, somehow managing to pamper me without once seeming overbearing. Lila he treated like an equal, including her in every conversation. And it worked: by the end of the afternoon, an easy camaraderie had developed between them.
‘Mummy? Do you mind if I ask Matthias to read me my story tonight, instead of you?’ Lila peered over the edge of the bath, eyeing me cautiously, her damp, freshly washed hair plastered to her cheeks. Cross-legged on the floor, my third aspirin of the day fizzing in the tooth mug I gripped in my right fist, I could hear Matthias phoning to order pizza through the half-open bathroom door.
‘I don’t mind at all,’ I replied, setting down my cup and leaning over the side of the bath to give her a fierce, impulsive hug which left a wet patch on my shoulder. ‘But I think you’d better ask him yourself,’ I added once I’d released her. ‘Let’s get you washed and into your pyjamas first, and see what he says.’
Once Lila had made a great show of kissing both of us goodnight, Matthias joined me on the sofa and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling pleasantly drowsy. ‘I’ve been thinking about something you told me last night, Sally,’ he said softly, putting up a hand to stroke my hair.
‘You’ll have to enlighten me,’ I admitted sheepishly. ‘My memory of last night is hazy at best.’
‘Well, you told me about your dilemma when you joined Rendez-vous, and about that dreadful talk show you saw about single mothers and dating,’ Matthias explained. ‘And, to be honest, I can’t get my head around why anyone who liked you could see all this’ – he made a sweeping gesture with his hand – ‘as a problem. I know I wouldn’t. Lila is a lovely kid. And I happen to think your being a mother adds an extra dimension to your personality. It’s just another facet of who you are; another string to your bow…’
Profoundly touched by his words, I lifted my head and gave him an eloquent look. ‘There’s something I need to do,’ I said purposefully, echoing what Matthias had said to me, seated on his own sofa, a week earlier. Cupping his face in my palms I gave him a forceful, passionate kiss. ‘I can’t believe I almost managed to push you away,’ I said when we came up for air, shaking my head as though to dislodge the unwelcome thought of what might never have been.
‘I can’t believe I almost let you,’ Matthias replied. ‘I’m so glad I ran into you when I did.’
‘Sally?’ said Ryan, emerging from the bathroom with a triumphant expression on his face. ‘Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or did I count three toothbrushes in there?’ I giggled, feeling the telltale heat of a blush creeping across my cheeks.
‘Look who’s talking,’ Anna snorted. Ryan had spent the past half-hour regaling us both with tales of his search for an apartment to share with Eric. They were looking for something with a balcony and a door leading on to it which would be compatible with a cat flap, a compromise they’d devised to solve the infamous Clyde conundrum. It was Ryan’s turn to blush a deep shade of crimson now. He really was in no position to mock my new-found domestic bliss.
Anna was the only one of us who’d had to deal with an emotional reversal this spring. A few days after I’d begun seeing Matthias in earnest, Alex had suggested she move in with him. Anna had hesitated: things were moving too fast for her comfort. Alex had read her dithering as a rebuttal, but Anna had been surprisingly philosophical when they’d parted company. ‘He was a lovely guy,’ she’d told me over lunch soon afterwards, ‘but the timing wasn’t right for me. I mean, my divorce wasn’t even finalized, and I didn’t feel ready or able to commit to living as part of a couple again…’
Now, two months later, with the ink drying on her divorce decree, Anna was determined to dip her toes back into the dating pool. Indeed, one of the aims of our hastily improvised weeknight get-together was for me, Ryan, Anna and Kate to put our heads together and come up with a suitable annonce. Anna had decided to take the plunge. Taking heart from my success story, she was ready to create her own profile on Rendez-vous.
‘Come on then,’ I said, motioning for Ryan to join Anna and me on the sofa, and pulling my laptop on to my knee. ‘There’s no time to waste here, people. We’ve got work to do!’
‘What about Kate?’ said Ryan, raising his eyebrows. ‘She is joining us, isn’t she? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the boss lady lately. Ever since Yves got back from New York they might as well have been away on their second honeymoon…’
I nodded, concentrating on maintaining an impassive expression. ‘She’s just running a bit late,’ I said airily. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be here soon.’
‘Okay, well, how about we start by having a peek at your profile, Sally?’ Anna suggested. ‘I think I’m the only one who never laid eyes on it… I remember all those emails you sent out, sharing the corniest pseudonyms and the nastiest chat-up lines you’d harvested. But I need to see exactly how you went about snagging that toy boy of yours.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ I said ruefully. ‘I would if I could. But I deleted it yesterday.’
Matthias had come over the previous night to share a takeaway meal from Krung Thep. We’d knocked together our bottles of Singha beer to celebrate two months since our first outing together to the Thai restaurant, taking special care to look one another in the eyes as we did so, mindful of the superstition which condemns anyone who toasts without doing so to seven years of bad sex. After dinner, while checking his emails on my computer, Matthias complained about the deluge of junk mail he was still receiving from Rendez-vous as the subscriptions team doubled and re-doubled their efforts to entice him back with promises of discounted membership.
‘I realized the other day my profile is still up.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘It’s dishonest, when you think about it. That means when you surf the site, half the profiles you see may well belong to people like me who no longer log on and can’t even access their messages.’ After hunting around fruitlessly for quite some time, he’d finally located the button enabling him to delete his inactive profile altogether. ‘Love may only be a click away,’ Matthias noted, ‘but they certainly make it difficult for people to cut their ties with Rendez-vous when they believe they’ve found it.’ Matthias’s elliptical reference to love melted my insides. We hadn’t spoken the all-important words aloud, but it was only a matter of time.
When he passed me the computer, I entered my log-in details and took a long look at my own profile. ‘Show me how to delete mine?’ I said, giving him a meaningful look. My account was still in credit – and would be for several months to come – but I knew I no longer required their services. When a pop-up window cautioned me against how much credit I’d be forfeiting, and a second – annoyingly persistent – message asked me ‘Vous êtes sûr?’, I ignored the warnings and clicked emphatically on ‘oui’.
‘I can’t believe you deleted Belleville girl!’ wailed Anna. ‘Didn’t you save her page anywhere first, for posterity?’ Before I could answer, I heard a quiet knock at the front door. Sliding the laptop sideways on to Anna’s knee, I darted over to let Kate in.
‘Here,
take my place on the sofa.’ I helped Kate out of her jacket, aware that I was fussing over her a little more than was strictly necessary. ‘What would you like to drink? Juice? Perrier? Tea?’ Ryan and Anna, both sipping from overfilled wine glasses, frowned up at me in unison. Anyone would think I’d offered her poison.
‘I’m on this special diet,’ said Kate quickly, pre-empting their questions. ‘Don’t know how long I’m going to manage to stick at it, but I’m off alcohol, for now.’ There was more to it than that, as I well knew, but Kate had told me about her new pregnancy in the strictest of confidence and, given what had happened last time, she’d asked me to keep mum until she’d made it past her three-month scan. Of course, being Kate, she hadn’t yet put on an ounce of weight aside from a little extra fullness around her breasts, so only her new teetotal lifestyle had the potential to give the game away.
Once I’d poured Kate a Perrier, I perched on the arm of the sofa. Anna had pulled up the Rendez-vous homepage, with its familiar logo of interlocking, pixellated hearts. ‘Oh my, get a load of that one!’ Anna exclaimed, her expression a mixture of amusement and horror. She’d taken exception to one of the random selection of profile pictures I’d always referred to as ‘bait’, which were scrolling merrily across the bottom of the screen. I had a sudden flash of déjà vu, remembering the day I’d signed up, filled with doubt and trepidation. Seven long months ago, here on this very sofa.
‘Okay, I’ll admit, he does look pretty slimy,’ said Kate. ‘But remember, it only takes one decent one to make this whole enterprise worthwhile. And put it this way, you’re more likely to find someone here than, say, you might in the Transports amoureux.’ She shot me a knowing glance over Anna’s head and I flashed her a smile of complicity.
Kate was harbouring a little secret of my own, and I’d sworn her to secrecy.
Libération Transports amoureux, 14 avril 2008
‘Nos regards virtuels se sont croisés sur un site de rencontres. Elle: jolie maman anglaise cachant sa timidité derrière un brin de sarcasme. Lui: jeune voisin de Belleville avec photo de profil déroutant. Complicité immédiate. Et si on faisait un bout de chemin ensemble?’
Table of Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
French Kissing
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
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18
19
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21
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French Kissing Page 32