Paris by Heart

by Nora James

  “Oh no!” exclaimed Dominique, giving Elise a friendly slap on the arm, “you will pay for that!”

  They walked in silence for a while, Elise admiring the gleaming life-sized statues that lined the path. Elise’s stomach rumbled and she brought a hand to it.

  “Come on, let’s go to dinner. It’s on me.” From the startled look on Dominique’s face she knew she’d better explain. “I mean, I’m inviting you.”

  “Oh, OK! I did not fancy eating if dinner was on you.” Dominique gestured to Elise’s belly and pulled a face. “We could go to la Mouffe. It’s fabulous there.” She hailed a bicycle taxi that was passing by without passengers. “Climb in. It is not far.” She grinned, pointing to her own belly. “And the taxi is on me. Ouch!”

  The bicycle taxi was really a tricycle, with a large bench running between the two back wheels and a bright yellow awning above the seating. It was the perfect way to get around Paris, catching up with all the cars at the traffic lights, and Elise relished being in the open air. It was easier to take in the sights and there was a marvel everywhere she looked, from stunning bridges and magnificent buildings to the waters of the river Seine. Riding around like this was something she’d love to do with Paul.

  “So are you ready now to tell me about your mysterious lover?”

  Dominique’s question startled Elise. “What lover?” she asked, trying to sound puzzled when she really knew what Dominique meant.

  “Only women in love twirl around in parks laughing like mad and then stop talking to daydream in taxis. But it’s OK if you don’t trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you,” said Elise emphatically as she realised Dominique had misinterpreted her reserve when in reality she was scared of what the future might hold. “He’s not my lover. We’ve just kissed and I didn’t think I wanted it to go any further. I want a long-term relationship. I want marriage, a soul mate, but no matter how hard I try to hold back, this feels so right. Besides, I believed I couldn’t trust a man again, but Paul, I do now.” She smiled at the triumph it was to her.

  “Look at that smile! You see, love is always the answer.”

  Elise’s heart sank but she continued in her chirpy tone. “It can’t be love. I’ll be heading back home in a little more than a month and anyway, who needs to be tied down?”

  Dominique encouraged her with a flick of the wrist. “We live for today, right? Like children. Who knows if we will be alive tomorrow? Besides, the definition of love is to feel romance or burning desire for someone, maybe affection. The point is the definition does not say it is forever. You can look it up in the dictionary.”

  The bicycle taxi pulled up on the corner of a narrow street lined with restaurants as far as the eye could see. Above them older looking, smaller buildings, some even medieval in character, Elise thought, leaned toward each other and she wondered if they’d been built that way with the imprecision of centuries past, or if their foundations had moved over the years. It wasn’t the 19th century Paris of manicured parks and wide open boulevards she’d seen in most places. She felt like she’d just stumbled upon hidden treasure.

  Dominique paid the taxi fare and exchanged a few words with rider, before dragging Elise up the cobblestone street. “It’s too early to eat. Maybe we walk around a bit first, have a drink and then look for somewhere to dine.”

  “But I’m starving,” complained Elise. “Back home I have dinner around six thirty.”

  Dominique burst into laughter. “In Paris we have afternoon tea at that time. Seriously, people often have dinner at nine or even ten at night if they are going to a restaurant.”

  Elise knew that but she didn’t like the sound of it. “Please, it would kill me.”

  Dominique raised her hands in the air. “OK, OK, we eat like chickens then.”

  Elise chuckled. “Like chickens?”

  “Yes, you know, early, before the sun goes down. Anyway do not complain about the lack of ambience. Chickens don’t need atmosphere. Later on it will be the real thing. There will be entertainment and interesting people in wonderful clothes and excitement and a lot of talk about art, about life, about love. We will meet people, handsome men. Non? I can’t tempt you? Of course not. Mademoiselle is already in love.”

  “Stop it!” Something in Elise’s heart told her Dominique might be right. She was falling for Paul and it wouldn’t take much, not much at all, for her to find in him everything she’d ever wanted.

  And then she’d have to let it all go.

  ******

  Paul got home to find Monique sitting across from Nicole, watching the younger woman like a hawk with little Christine. He silently thanked his lucky stars for his nanny, her diligence and good sense, as well as for all the care she always gave his daughter. She was much more of a mother to her than Nicole had ever been.

  Nicole stood, hands on hips, the minute he walked in. “You sure know how to keep a girl waiting,” she said, puffing up her chest and there was no mistaking that she was talking about herself, not their daughter.

  He vaguely nodded in her direction to acknowledge her presence, but ignored the comment. Christine came running and wrapped her arms around him as he crouched to greet her. He picked her up, lifting her a little too high before letting her settle against his chest.

  Nicole pursed her lips. “How come I didn’t get that kind of welcome?”

  Paul felt like telling her exactly why she didn’t, and that she should have known the answer to her question in the first place. Instead he held back once again—it always seemed to be the best solution with Nicole. He just had to get through tonight and hopefully his ex would disappear from his life as fast as she’d reappeared. He saw Monique open her mouth to speak and knew from the disdain in her eyes that it wasn’t to pay Nicole a compliment. He quickly shook his head to discourage her and to his relief the wise woman held her tongue.

  Nicole moved to Paul’s side, her hips swaying from side to side, and ran her hand along her skirt. “Ready to entertain me then?” she asked in front of everyone without discretion or subtlety.

  He wasn’t even tempted. She was brash and in your face and much of the time drunk. All he wanted was to be done with her. She hadn’t always been this way, although he now knew she already had addiction issues long before they met.

  “Lost your tongue?”

  He smelled the alcohol on her breath. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t treat me like a kid. I’ll have water when I want water.”

  Monique hobbled over to the kitchen and returned with a tray with a glass of water for everyone. “Good idea, Paul. You should all have a glass of water before you go out. It’s hot in the Metro at this time of year.”

  They all drank, including Nicole although her face twisted with agony, as if the clear liquid were poisoning her insides.

  “Water’s nice,” said Christine who must have noticed her mother’s disgust. “It’s good for you, Nicole.”

  “Hey, I’m Maman, not Nicole.” She turned to Paul, fury in her eyes. “What have you been saying to her?”

  Paul took a deep breath, desperately trying to remain in control of his nerves. “Nothing at all. Christine hasn’t seen you for a long time, not even for Christmas last year. You know who to blame for that.”

  “I had stuff going on. That’s not my fault! You want me to come here in a state?”

  Paul wanted to tell her that she was always in a state and it was her own doing, but not in front of Christine, so he raised a hand in a gesture of peace. “Let’s not get into that. How about we think of dinner now so we don’t come home too late for Christine?”

  “Good idea!” Monique exclaimed a little too cheerfully. “I can stay here and do all your ironing while you’re out, if you like.”

  Paul realised Monique was offering to be around when they got back so he wouldn’t have to be alone in the apartment with Nicole once Christine had gone to bed. He smiled, grateful for her concern. “That won’t be necessa
ry, but thank you so much for offering.”

  He’d handle Nicole, wouldn’t let her talk him into anything he didn’t want to do, and he definitely didn’t want to do anything more than the absolute minimum with her. In fact he wouldn’t have her in his apartment once Christine had gone to bed. She was only here to see their daughter.

  “I do have that bit of ironing to finish off,” continued Monique. It’d be handy if I could stay a while for that, if you don’t mind. I’ll lock up when I leave.

  Paul acquiesced. “No problem. Thanks, Monique.”

  “So where are you taking me, gorgeous?” Nicole had switched back to seductress mode. “I really fancy going to la Mouffe tonight.”

  “La Mouffe?” asked Christine, pulling a puzzled face.

  “Rue Mouffetard, in Paris, where you had that hamburger last time, you remember?” said Monique.

  Nicole huffed. “A hamburger with a kid? It’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

  Paul glared at her. Why was she here at all if it wasn’t to be with her daughter?

  “Oh! I love hamburgers! Let’s go! Please!” Christine jumped up and down with excitement.

  Paul hesitated. “It’s a bit far. I was thinking of somewhere around here. I don’t want a late night. It’s work tomorrow for me and more importantly school for my little princess.”

  “Please, Papà. I love going into Paris. I really want a hamburger. And I’m a big princess.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought you’d eaten. Mamie Monique fed you early.”

  Monique nodded as the child shook her head. “But I’m still hungry for a hamburger. Please.”

  Paul laughed as he placed his hand over his daughter’s. “All right, big princess. La Mouffe it is.”

  ******

  Dominique had finally convinced Elise to stop at a bar and have a cocktail and a few snacks before moving on to a restaurant for dinner. The creamy drink and tiny vols-au-vent, round pastries the size of a walnut filled with chicken and mushrooms in a white sauce, served alongside her beverage, had taken the edge off her hunger for a little while but now it was back with a vengeance and she couldn’t wait for real food.

  Since Dominique was inviting her to dinner Elise paid for the drinks. It was the least she could do. She fumbled around with Euros as she failed to immediately recognise all the notes and coins, and left a tip for the waiter. She’d been shocked to hear it was often the only remuneration restaurant staff received in European countries. No wonder a 15% tipping charge was added to the bill in a good number of eateries.

  She pocketed the remaining change the waiter brought to the table, thinking of how money had a way of slipping through your fingers when you were out and about as much as she’d been recently. She found Dominique, who’d returned from the toilettes, admiring herself in front of a mirror. “Didn’t you just do that in the restrooms? Come on, vanity doesn’t feed the belly. Let’s get dinner.”

  Dominique rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, a woman must be presentable at all times in Paris. And why do you call them restrooms? Nobody has a rest in there. It smells too much.”

  “What do you feel like eating?” asked Elise.

  “I’m not sure. You? We have everything here. French, Italian, Spanish, Chinese, German, North African, Russian, Nepalese.”

  “Nepalese?”

  Dominique shrugged. “Actually I don’t know if we have Nepalese.”

  As much as it sounded tantalising Elise really fancied a homely meal, something familiar to her tastebuds. She’d been eating out for so long, and all foreign food, that she longed for a familiar, rather ordinary dish.

  “At the risk of sounding stupid, I’d really like a simple meal. Maybe a burger and chips tonight with a salad. That’s probably too boring for you, I suppose.”

  Dominique laughed. “A burger and chips! You are all class! Seriously, it’s fine, really. I understand. I am the same when I go to Asia. After a while I need a break from the exotic.” She pointed to the left. “There’s a small place up here that does good home-style burgers. We can go somewhere else for dessert.”

  Elise felt like she was discovering different worlds as they passed so many kinds of restaurants and she peered into each one noticing its own individual sense of style. The choice was amazing, from cheap and cheerful places for families and the budget conscious traveller, to cabaret-type eateries she imagined would fill up with arty patrons, smoke and sultry jazz songs later on in the evening. They passed food shops, too: pâtisseries, with their cakes that were truly works of art, fromageries with cheeses she didn’t know existed, charcuteries and their amazing pâtés. They finally came to a homely restaurant with red and white checked tablecloths and a huge Toulouse Lautrec print that took up half the wall. Above the entrance was the sign Chez Jojo.

  “Here it is,” announced Dominique. “The finest French cuisine.”

  Elise chuckled and approached to read the menu that was stuck behind glass against the wall. It was in English and French. She read the French first, to see if she understood it, and mostly she did, which pleased her no end. It was simple fare, much of it American—hot dogs, burgers, steak and chips—although she guessed the French would put their spin on it.

  “Sounds great,” she said, already looking forward to her meal.

  As her friend gestured to the door, the silhouette of a man standing near the counter caught her eye. Although she could only see his back he looked so familiar. A woman in a clingy dress walked up to him, flicking her hair off her shoulder, smiling seductively at him. Elise noticed a little girl running behind, who arrived at full speed and wrapped her arms around the man’s legs.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Dominique. “You’ve gone white.”

  “Nothing. I’m getting really hungry.”

  Dominique frowned suspiciously. “And?”

  “And that’s all.” Elise couldn’t tell her she’d thought she’d seen Paul with a woman and child, and she felt sick to the stomach. She was stupid for imagining that it was him, even for an instant. It couldn’t be Paul. Of course not! She’d obviously been thinking of him too much and had started seeing him everywhere, his face, his hands, the way you do when you’re falling for someone. Or already have.

  “Well come on, we had better feed you fast before you faint.”

  Before Elise knew it Dominique had dragged her into Jojo’s. The man near the counter bent down and gave the child a peck on the cheek. The woman next to him did the same, and Elise heard her say something about their wonderful family as her hand travelled up her companion’s torso.

  As if he’d sensed Elise’s approach the man turned around and stared at her. There was no mistaking those chocolate brown eyes, that masculine jaw. Elise saw the surprise in the woman’s eyes as her gaze went from Elise to Paul and back again, and then the rather inelegant, somewhat rough-looking female threw herself at him, kissing him fair and square on the lips, as if to make it clear to Elise that he belonged to her.

  Elise saw Dominique’s mouth move frantically, and Paul’s too, but the only thing she could hear was the loud beating of her heart that ached so much she was sure it was about to burst out of her chest. She turned on her heels, ran out and down the street as fast as she could, dodging passers-by, slipping through the crowd as if her life depended on it.

  She vaguely heard Dominique’s voice in the distance, and the thought crossed Elise’s mind that perhaps her friend was running after her, but the urge to be alone was too strong. Besides, she couldn’t stop. Her legs had to run, as if she could leave behind the hurt. How could Paul do this to her? How could he hide a family?

  What a fool she’d been! She shouldn’t have trusted the bastard. She shouldn’t have trusted any man.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  She ran down the steps to the Metro station, desperate to get back to her studio and hide away from the world. If only she could banish that image of Paul, the loving husband and caring father, from her memory, but the scene kept
playing over and over in her mind.

  She felt the strength leave her legs and she sat, dizzy, on the last cold step, her head in her hands, and sobbed.

  Chapter 16

  Paul crossed his arms as he glared at Nicole outside the restaurant. It didn’t even wipe the smirk off her face.

  “How could you do that to me?” he asked. “Don’t you have a heart?”

  She wrapped a strand of her tired long hair around her finger. “Oh, darling, did I spoil your bit of fun?”

  He felt like screaming at her. Instead he glanced over at Christine who stood, head down, near the door, shuffling her feet around. He saw her little lip quiver and realised she was scared. He might have unintentionally raised his voice, or it might have been his body language that worried her.

  He quickly picked up his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s OK, mummy and daddy had a little quarrel, like you do at school with friends sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about. We’re both sorry and it’s over now.” He stared at Nicole. “It’s over now,” he repeated. “We’re going home.”

  “Well now we can drop Christine off with your nanny and go out just the two of us since you don’t have anything to look forward to with what’s-her-name?”

  He scoffed. He wouldn’t be entertaining Nicole and certainly not the way she was thinking, no matter what. “That isn’t going to happen. I’m going home with my princess and that’s it.” His daughter nestled her face against his chest and he thanked God he had her in his life.

  Nicole fluttered her eyelashes. “Fine. I’m sleeping over. I can work with that.” She slowly moved her hand up his side.

  He felt his jaw tighten and stepped away. “Don’t. It’s never going to happen, Nicole. Ever.”

  “I swear the drinking’s under control now.”

  She’d said that so many times Paul let out a sigh of exasperation. “Stop this.”

  “Loosen up, will you? OK, I’ll go to rehab. I promise.”

  “Like you’ve promised a million times before.”

  Paul shook his head. It was always the same story with Nicole. He had to make her understand once and for all that he was no longer interested in her.