Leanne put her beer on the little table in front of her, running her finger around the rim of the glass. ‘Yeah. My dad.’
‘If it’s too painful…’
‘No. It’s not that. It’s just…’ Leanne looked thoughtfully at Maddy. ‘He disappeared, you see. After the divorce.’
Maddy nodded. ‘So I gathered from the little you’ve told me. You haven’t seen him since then? How old were you?’
‘Twelve. But my mam couldn’t face telling her family. She told them he’d died.’
‘What?!’ Maddy exclaimed. ‘She said he was dead?’
‘That’s right. She’s from a small village in County Clare. Very old-fashioned and Catholic. She couldn’t admit the marriage had failed and her husband had done a bunk. So she pretended he died while on a visit to his hometown in Norway and was buried there. She acted the grieving widow as if she was going for an Oscar. Had it been a movie, she’d have won it, hands down.’
Maddy couldn’t help letting out a little giggle. ‘Sorry, but the way you tell it is both funny and sad.’
‘I know.’ Leanne sighed. ‘The tragicomedy that is my life.’
‘Have you always known the real story?’
‘Yes. But I promised Mam not to tell the family back in Clare. Not easy for a twelve-year-old to keep pretending her dad was dead. But I kind of believed it because I never saw him again. He might as well have been dead.’
‘That’s appalling. How hard it must have been for you. Do you know where he went when he left?’
‘Not until quite recently. I stumbled on something a few months ago. As you know, I’ve always loved fragrances and soaps and stuff like that. That’s why I did that cosmetics project with my science class. While we did the research into how to make our own skin care products, I looked up a few companies in the South of France. Thought I’d see if I could learn how to make perfume. I found this guy, looking just like my dad in the photographs we had at home. And I just knew it was him, even though he’s changed his name.’
‘So you want to go and look him up?’ Maddy turned her Kindle off. This was far more exciting than any book.
‘Yes. I want to make him tell me why he abandoned me like that. Why he never called or sent me as much as a postcard. How can anyone do that?’
‘I don’t know. It would be impossible for me. I mean, your own child…’ Maddy touched Leanne’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. What do you plan to do when you see him again?’
Leanne’s eyes gleamed. ‘I want to give him the fright of his life and just turn up and say, “Ta-da! Here I am, your long-lost daughter.” That should make him choke on his morning croissant.’
‘He deserves worse than that.’
‘Yeah,’ Leanne said flatly.
‘If you can find him.’
‘Oh, I will. I have a knack for these things. In more ways than one.’ Leanne’s nose twitched.
Maddy laughed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve always had this amazing nose. I can smell things miles away.’ Leanne closed her eyes. ‘Someone just walked past with a bag of cheese and onion crisps.’
Maddy craned her neck and looked around the salon. She spotted a man at the far side with something in his hand. ‘I can see a guy over there with something that looks like a bag of crisps. But he hasn’t opened it yet.’
Leanne smiled and nodded. ‘See? I can smell it through the packaging from miles away.’ She touched her nose. ‘See this? Could be my destiny. Never really thought of it before. It was just something I could do, like a party trick. But now that I have this money, I want to go down there and see if I can get into that line of work. Perfume, I mean. I love smelling things, especially flowers and plants and stuff like that.’
‘Have you been in touch with this man? The one you think is your dad?’
‘No. I want to surprise him. Or give him a fright. That’d serve him right after all he’s put me through.’
Maddy didn’t know what to say. How hard it must have been for Leanne to have lost her father and then have had to make up lies and pretend he was dead just to please her mother. It made her own story seem pale and ordinary in comparison.
Leanne sighed and stretched. ‘That’s my tale of woe. Now yours. Come on… dish.’
Maddy sighed and drained her glass. ‘I’m not sure I want to go there yet.’
‘Well, I do,’ Leanne said sternly. ‘This whole trip is about sorting out our baggage. We both have reasons to want to go to France. I just told you mine. It’s your turn to delve into the dirty linen.’
‘Dirty linen?’ Maddy said indignantly. ‘That’s not what I’d call it.’
‘Okay, the painful event that changed your life, then. Or something. You want to find someone and say something like, “What the hell happened? Where have you been for the past hundred years?” right?’
‘I don’t know what I’d say, to be honest. It happened twenty-three years ago. Can’t believe it’s that long since—’ She stopped, amazed the memory still hurt so much.
‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’ Leanne sat back and closed her eyes. ‘I can see it now… the beautiful young au pair girl falls for the older brother in the family or—’ She gasped and her eyes flew open. ‘It wasn’t the dad, was it?’
Maddy rolled her eyes. ‘Please. No, it wasn’t. And I wasn’t even an au pair girl. My parents wouldn’t let me. They said I’d be treated as a maid and asked to do a lot more than just babysitting.’
‘Too right. Those poor creatures are worked to the bone by horrible rich families and given hovels to sleep in.’ Leanne sat back again. ‘Okay, you weren’t an au pair girl. What were you then?’
‘I was a student at the Sorbonne. Studying French as a foreign student. I was nearly at the end of my course when I met him.’
‘Who?’
‘Ludovic Maximilian de Montrouge.’
Leanne snorted. ‘Jesus, what a mouthful. Sounds kind of posh.’
Maddy didn’t reply. Saying the name out loud had suddenly catapulted her back in time to those days at the end of spring over twenty years earlier. ‘He wasn’t really,’ she said. ‘Just his name. We met by accident the day before I was to take my finals…’
* * *
She bumped into him in the sun-dappled courtyard as she dashed to classes from her little maid’s room under the eaves of a sixteenth-century house on the Left Bank.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed trying desperately to hang on to the pile of books she was clutching as she ran, an apple in her mouth and a pencil stuck in her hair. The books slid from her grip and tumbled onto the flagstones. She took the apple out of her mouth and fell to her knees at the same time.
He crouched down to help her. ‘Excusez-moi,’ he said. ‘How clumsy of me.’
‘Non, pas du tout,’ she replied as she stacked the books, one on top of the other. ‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘Neither was I.’ He took her elbow and helped her up. Then he studied her for a moment. ‘You’re the girl across the courtyard. The Irish girl.’
‘Yes,’ she said, suddenly awkward as she finally came face to face with him. ‘How did you know I was Irish?’ she asked, blushing under the gaze of dark eyes fringed with thick black lashes.
‘Someone told me when I arrived. You speak very good French.’
‘Thank you.’ She rearranged the books in her arms. ‘I’ve been studying at the Sorbonne for a year. Almost finished. Are you staying here too?’ She looked at him more closely. With his nearly shoulder-length curly hair and denim shirt, he looked more like an artist than a student.
‘Yes.’ He gestured at the windows opposite hers. ‘I’ve been studying up there, across the way from you. My family owns the apartment below and the maid’s room above it. And your room, too, of course.’
‘Of course,’ she mumbled, wondering where his apartment was.
‘I’m right across from you,’ he said. ‘In the other maid’s room.’
Her eyes widened in shoc
k. ‘What? But there’s nobody across the courtyard. Madame told me when I moved in.’
‘I’ve only been there a week. I moved up there to get some peace. Away from the family.’ His smile widened. ‘I’m afraid I spotted you dancing the other night. Must have been a good song you were listening to.’
‘Shit,’ she said in English, looking at him in shock. ‘You didn’t.’
He grinned. ‘Um, yes.’
She backed away, realising he had seen her dancing around in her underwear while Prince sang her favourite track on the radio.
‘What was the song?’ he asked.
‘None of your business.’ She started to walk away. ‘I have to go now. I have an exam.’
‘Yes. Me too.’
She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. ‘At the Sorbonne?’
‘No, the school of Alain Ducasse. I’m training to be a chef.’
‘Oh.’ She started walking again until she reached the heavy oak door to the street. ‘Good luck,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘You too,’ he called back.
The door banged shut behind her before she had a chance to reply. She hugged the books to her chest while she walked the short distance to the Sorbonne, her mind whirling. Bloody hell, that guy had seen her nearly naked. Dancing and making faces, singing into her hairbrush. Well, she had only a week to go before she went back to Dublin. Hopefully she wouldn’t meet him again. And from now on she would keep her curtains drawn.
Chapter Five
‘What was the song?’ Leanne asked.
‘“Cream” by Prince. With sexy dancing.’ Maddy brought her hands to her face as Leanne laughed. ‘It’s not funny. I cringe when I think about it even now, so many years later.’
‘I know, but I think it’s quite a hoot. Great song, too. I used to sing it when I was twelve and didn’t know what it meant. So what happened next? Did he ever see you in your underwear up close and personal?’ She leant closer. ‘Did you eventually, you know, do it?’ she whispered.
Maddy looked out across the water and noticed they were about to dock at Pembroke harbour. ‘Look, we’re here,’ she said, relieved she didn’t have to reply. Digging up the past was proving to be more painful than she realised.
‘Saved by the bell, huh?’ Leanne said, looking disappointed. ‘We’ll take this up later. Can’t wait for the next instalment.’
* * *
The country-house hotel just outside the small harbour town of Pembroke looked like something from a Jane Austen novel on the outside; a three-storey Georgian building set in a lush garden with roses climbing up the old walls on one side and crumbling pillars flanking the massive entrance door. The sash windows glinted in the setting sun and a thrush could be heard singing at the top of a tall oak.
‘Wow,’ Leanne exclaimed as they pulled up at the front steps. ‘You’d practically expect Mr Darcy to come out and scowl at us for arriving so late.’
‘It’s only nine o’clock.’
‘Yes, but too late for dinner. They used to eat early in them old days.’
The door opened and a young man in hotel livery appeared, running down the steps and opening the driver’s door. ‘I’ll park this car for you.’
Leanne tried to close the door again, an expression of horror on her face. ‘What are you doing? This is my car, so get your dirty paws off it.’
The young man smirked. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. As you wish.’
‘What kind of hotel is this, anyway?’ Leanne demanded. ‘Trying to drive the guests’ cars, now?’
‘It’s called valet parking,’ the young man said. ‘Usually appreciated. But it’s up to you.’
Leanne’s face turned crimson. ‘Oh, okay. Yeah, I knew that.’ She handed the keys to the young man. ‘Do it, then, but be careful.’
‘Of course. But we’ll get your bags first,’ he said and gestured to a hotel porter who had just appeared by his side. ‘Take these bags to the garden suite.’
‘Suite?’ Maddy asked. ‘I thought we’d booked single rooms.’
‘They only had the suite,’ Leanne replied. ‘Come on, let’s go and inspect it. We could do room service too, if the dining room is closed already.’
‘Dinner is served until eleven every evening,’ the porter remarked as he took both bags and their shopping from the boot.
‘Okay, great.’ Maddy led the way up the stairs. ‘Let’s check in first, Leanne. Then we’ll freshen up and go and have some dinner.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Leanne muttered and padded after Maddy up the steps. ‘This had better be good or we’re leaving.’
It was better than good: the suite was gorgeous. Two bedrooms with double beds stacked with pillows covered in linen and lace, a huge bathroom each with a bath ‘the size of a small swimming pool’, Leanne declared, looking in awe at the fluffy towels and luxury toiletries on the shelves. ‘Molton Brown and Crabtree & Evelyn,’ she sighed. ‘And the bathrobes are amazing. Maybe we should just stay here for the month?’
Maddy sniffed a bottle of shower gel. ‘I think I’d get bored.’
‘Yeah. Me too.’ Leanne picked up a bottle of body lotion. ‘In any case, we can nick a few of these.’
‘Will we have to?’ Maddy asked. ‘I mean, aren’t we staying in a few places like this on the way? They’ll all have similar stuff in their bathrooms.’
Leanne shook her head. ‘Ah, sure they will. Jesus, I’m so thick. But maybe it’s from never having lived the good life before. You seem to know all about it, though. How come?’
Maddy shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I’ve only stayed in a luxury hotel once when Tom was on an official trip to New York. He took me as the department paid for his trip and the hotel room. Never forgot it.’
‘All on tax payers’ money, no doubt.’
‘Of course. Happens a lot. You’ve no idea how those top civil servants milk the system.’
‘I’m sure they do. And those left-wingers are the worst, I bet.’
‘I have no idea,’ Maddy said with an innocent air.
‘Yeah, right. Let’s go and have dinner. I need to practice this high-living thing.’
Maddy laughed. ‘That’s not too hard. Just remember to think rich.’
‘And bitch,’ Leanne added. ‘If you act like a bitch, they’ll think you’re loaded.’
‘Hm.’ Maddy frowned. ‘Not sure I can do that. I was brought up to be nice.’
Leanne grinned. ‘I wasn’t. This’ll be a waltz in the park for me.’
‘You mean walk.’
‘No, I don’t. I like misquoting clichés. Gives them a new twist.’
‘You’re a nutcase.’
‘I know.’ Leanne pulled at Maddy’s sleeve. ‘Come on. Let’s hit the dining room and act like rich bitches.’
* * *
The elegant dining room was already emptying by the time they got there. The maître d’ showed them to a table near the window with a view of the floodlit garden and what must have been the stable block in the old days.
‘Looks like some kind of annex,’ Maddy said. ‘But in the eighteenth century, it would have been the stables and coach house.’
‘It’s the spa, ma’am,’ the waiter said behind her. ‘And the swimming pool.’
‘Cool,’ Leanne chortled.
‘No, it’s quite warm,’ he replied.
Leanne giggled. ‘Not that kind of cool. I meant—’ She thought for a moment. ‘How splendid.’
He nodded and took out his notepad. ‘I’ll take your order now.’
‘But we haven’t even looked at it yet,’ Leanne complained. ‘Give us a moment. But get us some wine, willya? I’ll have white. I think my friend likes a glass of red. Right, Mads?’
‘I’ll get the sommelier to come over and advise you,’ the waiter said and glided away.
‘Oh, shit,’ Leanne muttered. ‘I don’t have a clue about wines or fancy restaurants. I’m getting a headache looking at this menu. It’s all in French, fer God’s sake! Oh, here he comes. The
wine guy with the wine list. See if you can find something drinkable on it.’
Maddy tried not to roll her eyes. She let out a little sigh. Leanne had no idea how to behave in a posh restaurant. Even at thirty-two she must have done most of her socialising in pubs and hamburger joints. Her uncouth ways were jarring at times. How would they be able to spend several weeks together travelling in a tiny sports car?
The sommelier, a good-looking young man with red hair and a ring in his left ear, walked up to their table. ‘The wine list, ladies,’ he said and handed it to Maddy.
She scanned the list, trying not to gasp at the prices. ‘Do you have a house wine?’
‘I’m afraid not. But if you turn the page, you’ll see that we have some light reds and a good number of dry whites that aren’t too… pricey.’
‘I was thinking more of the alcohol content,’ Maddy remarked. ‘Some of these are very strong. Fourteen per cent? That’s more like sherry.’ She looked at the list again. ‘As I’m not quite sure what we’ll be having yet, I think a rosé would be good. It goes with both fish and meat. What about this St Croix?’
He nodded. ‘Yup, that one would be perfect for the two of yez.’
Leanne laughed and grabbed his arm. ‘You’re from Dublin, aren’t you? The north side?’
He beamed at her. ‘Guilty. Inchicore. And you? Howth?’
‘Sutton.’
He nodded. ‘Thought so.’ He took the wine list back from Maddy. ‘Thank you, madam. I’ll get the waiter to come and take your order. Enjoy your meal.’
He was about to walk away, but Leanne pulled at his jacket. ‘Just a minute. When do you finish tonight?’
He looked only slightly taken aback. ‘Eleven.’
‘Great. How about we meet in the bar then?’
He pulled away from Leanne’s grip. ‘Uh, no. I’m expected at home. My wife…’
Leanne put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, feck, you have a wife?’
‘And two kids,’ he added. ‘But hey, no hard feelings. Very flattered and all that. See ya around, girls.’
Maddy shook her head at Leanne. ‘Really. Hitting on the wine waiter. What next? A fling with the parking valet?’
The Road Trip_A feel-good romantic comedy that will make you laugh out loud! Page 4