That Night In Paris Page 16

  It wasn’t.

  “Well, fuck,” said Lou and I nearly keeled over from shock. All right, maybe it was from the running. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, what one might call a “runner”.

  “Well, what do we do now?” whined Jae. “Did you send the text?” she asked Dani accusingly.

  “Yes, I sent the text. I even told her who was with me.” She checked her phone. “It definitely sent.”

  I decided to say it out loud. “Georg-bloody-ina!” There were some mumbled agreements.

  Lou piped up with, “But she’s been so lovely.” Jae and I locked eyes and engaged in some synchronised eye rolling.

  “Okay, it’s going to be fine. We just need to get a taxi.” Craig, the eighteen-year-old voice of reason, stepping up again. The nine of us looked around at the completely deserted streets. There wasn’t a car, a scooter, or even a bicycle in sight.

  “There.” Paul took off at a sprint before the rest of us could react. He’d spotted a taxi turning onto our road, but it was going in the wrong direction. He was a fast runner, I had to give him that. The taxi slowed—Hallelujah!—and Paul caught up and leant down to talk to the driver through the window. Then he got in.

  “Is he ditching us?” Jae asked. She always seemed to see the worst in people. I knew this about her because I tended to do the same thing and recognised the signs.

  “Naaah,” said Rob. “He wouldn’t do that.” The taxi made a U-turn and pulled up next to us. Paul got out. “See?” Rob said to no one in particular.

  “He’s calling his friend to come get the rest of us. It’ll be squishy in one of the cars, but better than nothing, right?” said Paul.

  We all wholeheartedly agreed.

  “Well, why don’t you girls take this one. Maybe Craig, you go with ’em—you sit up front.”

  It sounded like a plan to me. I didn’t care if I had to sit on someone’s lap. I’m small; it wouldn’t be the first time. Dani seemed unsure, but Jason reassured her, and Craig got in the front seat while the four of us figured out how to share three seatbelts in the back. I hoped we wouldn’t get pulled over—although if we did and I recognised any of the coppers from the raid, I’d give them a piece of my mind.

  Twenty-five minutes and eighty euros later, two taxis pulled up at the gate of the campsite. It was nearly one, but we didn’t leave the next morning—sorry, that morning—until nine.

  We walked up the hill and bid each other whispered “goodnight”s before the girls and I disappeared into our cabin.

  As I lay in my bed, the adrenalin still coursing through my veins, I couldn’t shake the thought of that stupid ugly warthog.

  ***

  “Hey.” Jaelee popped her head into our room as I was zipping up my case. We still had half-an-hour before we were due to leave, but I wanted to find Georgina and ask her why the bloody hell she’d left us behind in the middle of the night. I was almost looking forward to the conversation.

  “Hey,” I called back over my shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “I was just wondering what you’re planning on wearing for your date with Jean-Luc tonight.”

  “Actually, it’s this afternoon. I’m meeting him at five, right after the walking tour.”

  “Oh, so, something day-to-night then?”

  “I guess. I mean, I was going to wear this.” I looked down at my jersey wrap-around dress in a black-and-pink floral pattern, which I was wearing with a pair of black flats.

  “Oh.”

  Uh oh. “But this is all right, isn’t it?” It was last season, but it was pretty and I thought I looked good in it. And really, there was no better option in my luggage. I mentally scanned my wardrobe at home where several day-to-night date dresses were hanging. Bollocks.

  “It’s nice.” Nice? “But wait here.”

  She disappeared, and a knot of nerves started twisting in my stomach. How was I supposed to know when I packed that I’d run into my one-time best friend who had grown into a super-hot guy who set my loins on fire? I’d packed for warmish weather and walking around a lot. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

  “Here.” Jae came back into the room holding one of her paper shopping bags from the day before. “We’re about the same size and I think this would look gorgeous on you.” She put the bag on my bed and pulled out a silk shift dress in that brilliant blue you see in photos of Santorini.

  “Oh, Jae. It’s beautiful, but I can’t borrow it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. Put it on.” I’d been topless on a beach with Jae two days before, so there was no need to be modest. I unwrapped my dress, then slid hers on over my head. It settled onto my body and she reached around me to grab the ends of the waist tie, then tied a bow in the front. She smoothed the dress over my hips. “You look amazing. That’s a great colour for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. And it’ll look awesome with your motorcycle jacket.”

  Lou walked into the room wrapped in a towel. “Oh, wow. Nice dress.”

  “You think? I wish there was a full-length mirror in here.”

  “You’re going to have to take our word for it,” said Jae, “because you’re wearing it. Oh, hang on.”

  She disappeared again. I shrugged at Lou.

  “You really do look good. Jaelee’s?” she asked.

  “Yep. She bought it yesterday.”

  Jae came back into the room with a silver leather handbag. “Here. Better than your messenger bag.” She was right, but it was tiny compared to the bag I’d been carrying every day. “And you should wear your silver ballerina flats.” Jae seemed to have an excellent working knowledge of the contents of my case—thank goodness.

  “Oh, yes, excellent,” I said, unzipping my case. I pulled out the silver flats, then slipped off my black ones and packed them. “Oh!” I remembered I’d packed a silver cuff bracelet and I produced it from my case with a flourish.

  “Yep. Great.” Jaelee nodded approvingly.

  “You look beautiful, Cat,” said Mama Lou. Both women seemed to understand what this date meant to me—perhaps even more than I did—and I was overcome with a surge of affection for my new friends.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Dani poked her head in. “Oh, you look nice,” she said.

  I grinned. “Thanks, girls.” I blew out a long breath. “Now I just have to get through the next eight and a half hours without freaking out!”

  “And without spilling anything on my dress.”

  My mouth formed an O and Dani and Lou produced synchronised cries of “Jaelee!” She backpedalled immediately with, “Kidding. Kidding! Sorry!” Even so, I would try very hard not to spill anything on the dress. I’m not usually a klutz—that’s more my sister’s department—but I’d be extra careful.

  For the drive to Rome, I’d asked Jaelee to sit with me under the guise of getting her advice about Jean-Luc, but it was really to see what was up with her and Dani. She’d unwittingly agreed, and Lou said she was happy to share the ride with Dani, because she was Lou and possibly the nicest person I’d ever met.

  “So,” I said as we got on the road, “are things all right between you and Dani?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, yesterday you both seemed a bit snippy.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I’m not used to such close quarters. I live alone and I guess the whole ‘summer camp, twenty-four-seven’ thing is getting to me. That’s why I went off by myself yesterday. I needed a breather.”

  “And you booked a group tour because …?”

  “Same as you. Running away.” I laughed at us both. “Seriously, though, it was last minute and easier than planning the whole thing by myself. Oh, was I ever kicking myself that first day when I thought I’d booked a camping trip. Thank you for setting me straight, by the way. I nearly asked to get off the bus. But it’s been good. Mostly. Yesterday was just, you know …” I did, yes.

  She sighed. “It’s also … I’ve been Facebook stalking my ex. His fucki
ng honeymoon.”

  “Oh, Jae.”

  She shook her head. “It’s like the most masochistic thing ever. Stupid. Just, like … totally stupid.”

  “Yes, you should probably stop doing that.”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  “Listen, if you feel the urge, come find me, all right? I’ll talk you out of it, or distract you with pastries, or slap you across the face—whatever is needed, I’m your woman.”

  She threw me a half-smile. “Okay, sure.” After a few seconds she added, “Thanks.”

  “Of course! You’d do the same for me. Oh, I meant to show you and Dani.” I dug out my phone and showed her the photo my mum had sent.

  She burst out laughing, and I wasn’t sure how to take it. “Look at you, like a mini Jen Aniston.” Perhaps that was a compliment, Jaelee style. I mean, Jennifer Aniston was still one of the most gorgeous women on the planet.

  “And no wonder you didn’t recognise Jean-Luc in the street. Look at him. What a dork.” Well, that was definitely an insult. I snatched the phone from her and threw her a teacher look.

  “Sorry. Not like a total dork, but you know, like a puppy who hasn’t grown into his feet yet.” I gave her a sideways glance. “I’ve put my foot in my mouth,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I still love you.”

  “You two look really good together, you know.”

  “You don’t have to say that. We were awkward teenagers.”

  “No, I mean now.”

  My head swivelled so fast I nearly got motion sickness. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s so tall and hunky and you’re like this petite little cutie. You should have seen the way he was looking at you after you nearly fainted. It was adorable.” There was that word again.

  And neither of these descriptions played into my “seduce the hell out of the hot guy” fantasy, or the “old friends reuniting” scenario. They meant couple stuff—that giant black void in the middle of my two comfort zones—the one manifesting itself as an ever-increasing knot in my stomach.

  Why was I doing this to myself? Life was perfectly fine when Jean-Luc was a distant memory locked safely away in a box. I was happy in my life—ecstatic even. I had a great life. Great!

  But Jae had said all that stuff about me and Jean-Luc as though it was a universal truth or something, like it was undeniable. So, maybe Jean-Luc and I were cute together. Bollocks, merde, and scheisse.

  ***

  “Hey,” Jae said quietly. I was staring at the back of the seat in front of me, revisiting my nineteenth-century fantasy about the Parisian apartment I shared with Jean-Luc.

  “Hmmm?” I replied, somewhat reluctant to leave my imaginary bed.

  “So, I haven’t even told Dani this. Actually, I don’t think I will, but I wasn’t exactly truthful about Marc.”

  “Marc?” I grasped for the name in my memory. “Oh! Marc,” I said a little too loudly. She shushed me and I looked around us. No one had heard me, or they had and didn’t care. “Sorry, so what do you mean? Oh! You did sleep with him?” I whispered. She nodded and a sly smile crept over her face. “Well? What happened?”

  “It was like I said, we talked—a lot. For hours. It was amazing and, you know, his English wasn’t great, but we managed. It was good enough and if we got stuck, I tried Spanish, which he has a little of, and we made it work. He’s just coming out of a relationship too, so we talked a lot about that. And, there wasn’t even any big moment where I had to decide. It just felt right—like we’d shared something …”

  “And?”

  “And, it was nice. Not earth-shattering, but kind of sweet. Then we fell asleep all wrapped up in each other, which I can never do. That part surprised me.”

  “And how did you leave things? In the morning?”

  “He walked me to the château—well, close but not the whole way. People were up by then. And he kissed me goodbye and that’s it.”

  “You’re not going to stay in touch?”

  “No,” she replied simply. “It wasn’t like that. It was just, you know, that night. We both understood.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s so lovely. And you’ve kept it to yourself.”

  “You can say it, Cat. I lied.”

  “Well, yes, that.”

  “I just … I’m usually a very private person, and I wanted to keep it just for me, you know?”

  “So, why tell me, and why now?”

  “Because, I think you’re putting a lot of pressure on meeting up with Jean-Luc today—and part of that’s probably my fault.”

  “Ya think?” I teased.

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should let it be what it’s going to be.” She shrugged. “It could be nothing. It could be everything. But most likely, it will be something in between. I just don’t want you to set yourself up to be disappointed.”

  I chewed on the thought. Jae was right. I was coming at the date from completely the wrong perspective. I was putting too much pressure on myself—and on Jean-Luc. It would be what it would be. I just needed to chill the hell out.

  Easier said than done.

  ***

  The Colosseum was far more impressive in real life than I could ever have imagined. Yes, it’s a relic, yes, half of it is missing, but it was easy to visualise being in the crowd while gladiators fought it out for their lives. I was certain my impression was as much to do with our guide, Gabriella—who was fantastic—as it was to do with the Colosseum itself.

  She was a tiny human. I say this knowing that by most people’s standards, I am a tiny human. Yet I towered over Gabriella, who was four-foot-eleven at most and couldn’t have weighed more than seven stone. And although she must have been in her seventies, she had a huge presence and was able to project her voice so well, I wondered if she’d ever been a stage actress.

  She finished her spiel and gave us some time to explore and take photos. I obliged Jaelee’s request for a photo of her—solo—then asked Craig to take one of the four of us girls. “And let’s do a selfie,” he said, leaning in and sticking out his enormously long arm to capture the five of us together. When I got my phone back and saw the photo, I immediately posted it to Facebook with the caption, “tour group besties”, tagging them all.

  I loved these people and we were nearly halfway through the tour. I knew I would miss them when I got back to London, back to real life. Yes, it would be nice to have my own space and not cart my toiletries around in a bag and have access to the perfect outfit from my own wardrobe, but there was something kind of lovely about discovering new places and sharing experiences with people who’d become so special to me.

  It was one of the things Sarah had loved most about touring—watching the friendships take shape between the travellers. She’d even made some friends herself, people she was still in touch with. I was starting to understand what she meant by how intense those relationships could be, and how they form in such a short time. When you’re with people twenty-four-seven, they become like family. I looked at the photo on my phone. My bus besties.

  We left the Colosseum and trailed behind Gabriella as she led the way to the Roman Forum, across a wide and very busy street. She spoke rapid-fire Italian to the man at the gates, handed over a piece of paper, and counted us in as she shooed us past her. “Sbrigati,” she said repeatedly—hurry. She was little, but she was mighty. We hurried.

  The Roman Forum was just as impressive as our previous stop. So much of it was intact, and even when only a skeleton of a structure remained, or a partial one, it was easy enough to see what it had been. On the last part of the tour, we walked along a cobbled street rutted by the wheels of chariots. Chariots! Gabriella explained that the width between them became the standard gauge for train tracks. I wasn’t sure how true it was, but it was a fun factoid.

  As we followed Gabriella, stopping at various places of interest, I let my mind wander to Shakespe
are’s Julius Caesar. It was the shortest Shakespearean play, but by no means the simplest, thematically speaking. I’d studied it at uni and had taught it several times, and I’d grown to love it. The political manoeuvrings were so human. I could see it in my mind’s eye, playing out on the historical landscape around me. I couldn’t believe I was right there.

  Oh, I was falling in love with Roma.

  At the end of the tour, Gabriella led us out the exit to where Georgina and Tom were waiting for us with the coach. When she wrapped up her tour and bade us, “Arrivederci,” I had an overwhelming urge to hug her. I didn’t though. She didn’t seem the hugging type with her pantyhose, red lipstick and tight bun. She shooed us onto the coach and she and Georgina exchanged a few words and an envelope.

  Colosseum

  Roman Forum

  On the coach, I realised I still hadn’t talked to Georgina about ditching us in Florence. She’d been MIA that morning, only stepping onto the coach a minute before nine, and there hadn’t been time when we got to Rome. I leant into the aisle and whispered to Dani, who was two seats up. “Hey, Dan?”

  She turned around. “Yeah?”

  “Did Georgina say anything to you about last night?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. She said she didn’t get the text until they were nearly back at the campsite.”

  “But you texted her at, what, twelve-fifteen?”

  “I know.” She shrugged.

  “Well, that’s total bollocks. How—”

  I stopped talking and looked down the aisle past Dani, who turned around to see what I was looking at. Georgina had stepped onto the coach. Dani spun back to me. “Talk later,” she said.

  I nodded and sat back in my seat. “She’s lying,” I said quietly to Jae.

  “Dani? Oh, you mean Georgina?”

  “Mm-hmm. She said she didn’t get Dani’s text ’til it was too late.”

  “Yeah, Dani told me that this morning.”

  “Seriously, though? That’s bollocks!” I hissed.