because of course he understood, like no one else could. He knew that I wasn’t only thinking
of Caitlyn; I was remembering my younger self and reliving the assault I had experienced on
the night we had properly met. As he rested his head on mine, it felt like we had come full
circle; that once again he was the Paddy who had been there when I needed him, not the Paddy
who had left. I clung to him, overwhelmed by how glad I was to have him with me now.
‘I have to go to Paris,’ I said, drawing back. ‘She said she’s fine. I believe her. But I
need to see her for myself.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘But you have your work, and your mum …’
‘They’ll be okay for a couple of days. I want to come. If nothing else, my A-level
French will be more useful than your Latin. Let me help.’
I stepped back and studied him. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual, charming Paddy
Friel smile. It wasn’t the TV smile, designed to captivate the viewers and keep the ratings high.
It was a smile for me, designed only to offer reassurance and support, friendship and maybe
something more. And any last, lingering doubts I might have had were finally swept away. The
Paddy I had hated for so many years wasn’t actually real. The real Paddy was here in front of
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me, offering to stay at my side, not run away. I didn’t hate this man. Far from it. I’d asked him
not to make me fall in love with him again. Why hadn’t I seen that it was already too late?
‘Yes,’ I said to him, and I walked back into his embrace. ‘Please come.’
*
We were lucky. There were seats available on a flight from Manchester to Paris the next day.
Paddy made all the arrangements and then went home to pick up his passport, leaving me time
to go shopping for a new phone and handbag for Caitlyn and to visit Gran before Paddy and I
met again at the airport for the flight.
I had fiercely guarded my independence for years, but found it oddly liberating to be
able to let go and accept help from someone else now. I’d been lucky with Caitlyn over the last
seventeen years. She had enjoyed excellent health – no broken bones, nothing more serious
than chicken pox ever troubling her – and even the teenage years had been more peaceful than
I had imagined after several years working in a secondary school. I hadn’t missed having
someone to share my worries with, because there had been no proper worries to share.
But even though I had spoken to Caitlyn again, and she had convinced me that she
really was fine, the scare of her initial phone call haunted me and made me question the value
of my independence after all. As Paddy sent me texts through the day, telephoned to finalise
our plans, and distracted me with conversation and laughter at the airport and through the flight,
I realised that although I could have done this on my own, I didn’t want to. And I realised
something else. It wasn’t weakness to lean on someone else; it took strength to trust someone
enough to do that. And despite what had happened in the past, I trusted Paddy.
We travelled on an evening flight, and even with a private transfer from Charles de
Gaulle airport to the city centre, it was after eleven o’clock by the time we pulled up outside
the hotel that Paddy had booked in the Saint Germain district. In the twilight, I could see the
pale stone façade of the building rising five floors high, with huge full-length windows
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decorated with black iron railings adorning the front face of the hotel. Two carriage lights
glowed a welcome on either side of the double-width wooden door, where the name of the
hotel was discreetly embossed on the stone surround. It looked an expensive place, a boutique
hotel rather than the budget accommodation I had been expecting, but perhaps it had been
difficult to find two rooms at short notice and he’d had no choice but to upgrade. I hesitated at
the entrance. He would have booked two rooms, wouldn’t he? I glanced across at him, and he
smiled and squeezed my hand, which didn’t help answer the question.
Paddy checked us in and we travelled upstairs in the lift to one of the highest floors. He
led the way down a thickly carpeted corridor and opened the door to a room.
‘Here you go,’ he said, holding open the door for me. I went in and found myself in a
gorgeous bedroom, beautifully decorated with white panelled walls and mirrored wardrobes,
and lit by an ornate chandelier. Lush teal velvet fabric covered the bed and hung on either side
of the tall balcony windows.
He followed me in and set my bag down at the foot of the king-sized bed. I glanced
from it to Paddy.
‘Are you …’ I stopped, undecided where to go with this. Question or invitation? What
did I want?
‘I’m in room 43. It must be down the corridor.’ Paddy dropped a lingering kiss on the
top of my head. ‘You know where I am if you want me.’
*
I woke early the next morning, pushed back the voiles and opened the windows, revealing a
charming view across the Saint Germain rooftops. The morning sun bathed my face and I felt
an unexpected flash of exhilaration at being here. I’d already spoken to Caitlyn, and she had
sounded well – so well it hardly seemed as if she needed the comfort I had come all this way
to offer. She would be working through the day and so we had arranged to meet for dinner –
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the four of us, as she insisted on introducing me to her boyfriend, Luc, and I could hardly
abandon Paddy, even if I’d wanted to, when he had done so much to bring me here. Until then,
we had a whole day to spend in Paris, and with my worry over Caitlyn diminished by our
conversation, I was keen to cram as much as I could into the few hours we had here before
flying home tomorrow.
I’d never visited Paris before. Unsurprisingly Paddy had, although I chose not to ask
for details of any romantic trysts he’d enjoyed there in the past. He swept us through the city
like a local, combining some ‘must see’ moments with his favourite places. We enjoyed
breakfast in a bustling café tucked away on a quiet street near the hotel, before we visited the
Montparnasse Tower and ascended to the observation deck to admire the incredible views
across the city and towards the Eiffel Tower. We marvelled over the stained glass at Sainte-
Chapelle; strolled along the banks of the Seine; and enjoyed delicious fresh fish for lunch in a
restaurant overlooking the river. Later, we visited the Luxembourg Gardens, which looked
amazing with the perfect blue sky overhead and the flowers in full bloom.
We sat in a shaded spot in the gardens, exhausted by our whistle-stop tour – and by the
wine, in Paddy’s case, and all the food I had enjoyed, in mine. Although there were lots of
other people strolling in the gardens, it felt incredibly peaceful, as if all this beauty had been
laid on solely for us.
‘What’s the verdict?’ Paddy asked, turning his head to look at me. The summer breeze
had roughened his curls through the day, and the first signs of a five-o’clock shadow were
darkening his chin. He looked like a laughing pirate, an enticing mixt
ure of danger and fun.
‘Have you fallen in love?’
Had I …? I stared at him, blinked, opened my mouth but couldn’t speak.
‘It captivated me the first time I came,’ Paddy continued. ‘I know you’ve only seen a
fraction of it, but it’s a great city, isn’t it?’
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‘Oh! The city! Yes, absolutely. I do love it.’
Paddy grinned at me. I had always loved his smile, the way it encompassed his whole
face, lighting it with joy.
‘What did you think I meant?’
‘Oh, the food, of course. Is that terrible? You were being highbrow and cultural, and I
was only thinking of my stomach …’ I laughed. ‘I’ll need extra-long runs this week to make
up for today. I’ve been very bad, and we haven’t even had dinner yet.’
Paddy reached across and took hold of my hand.
‘You could never be bad. In anything. You’re an incredible woman, Eve Roberts. Jeez,
when I think about what you’ve done, giving up everything to look after Caitlyn … and when
I think about what I did … You’re so good, I don’t feel worthy to even be here beside you,
sharing the same patch of grass.’
I wished I was as good as he believed. I wished I deserved these things he was saying.
I moved towards him and put my free hand over his mouth.
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘That’s all in the past. Let’s not think about that any more.’
There was something curiously vulnerable about him, when only his eyes were showing
his feelings. I watched as the expression in them softened until I would have known he was
smiling even if I hadn’t felt the curve of his lips beneath my hand. And then his lips moved
again and pressed a kiss against my palm.
I drew my hand back a couple of centimetres. He leant forward and kissed my palm
again. We did this twice more and his eyes never left mine. And then, when he was close
enough that I could feel his breath, warm against my cheeks, I withdrew my hand completely
and he leant forward and pressed his lips to mine.
It was unexpected, and yet inevitable, because where else had the day been leading?
And I kissed him back – because it was Paddy; he was in my bones, and always had been, an
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essential part of me. I didn’t need any other reason. And if I did, I still had some ‘Be Kind to
Yourself’ vouchers unused in my bag, and I would have given up every last one, and reclaimed
all the others, to pay for these moments in Paddy’s arms. This wasn’t for old times’ sake – it
wasn’t a nostalgic embrace, or about rekindling the past. I wanted to kiss this Paddy – the man
he was now. This was about the present – and maybe about the future too.
Eventually, he eased away.
‘What time are we meeting Caitlyn?’ he asked.
‘About eight.’
He checked his watch. ‘So there’s time to visit one more place. I know you wanted to
see everything you could. Or …’
He let the sentence hang. He didn’t need to speak the words. I knew what he meant.
This is how we had always been: totally in tune with each other’s needs and wishes. I had
wanted to see everything; I might never come back to Paris. But everything was right here in
front of me. I scrambled to my feet and held out my hand to him.
‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’
*
Paddy Friel. Paddy Friel was lying in bed beside me. Paddy Friel was lying in bed beside me,
naked. His hand was curved round the small of my back; his toes were touching mine. I stared
at his face on the pillow, and wondered if I would ever manage to stop smiling.
Paddy opened his eyes, and eased forward until his lips brushed across mine.
‘Just so as you know,’ he said, as his hand slid over my back, ‘I’ve changed my mind.
You’re not good. You’re bloody fantastic.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ I replied, laughing. ‘For a man of forty, anyway.’
He didn’t let me get away with that, and tightening his arm round me, he drew me on
top of him. He sighed.
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‘I suppose we should be getting up, if you still want to walk to the restaurant.’
That should have been my line. I should have been thinking about Caitlyn. Already I
had let this thing with Paddy, whatever it was, distract me from the most important person in
my life. But I couldn’t think of anything except the feel of his skin against mine, and the way
my whole body tingled with pleasure.
‘What if we get a taxi?’ I asked.
He laughed. ‘Then we would have time for this …’
*
It was ten past eight when the taxi pulled up outside the restaurant that Caitlyn had chosen; I
was amazed that we’d managed to be as punctual as that. I spotted her at a table near the back
as soon as I walked in and quickened my pace, feeling all at once a mum again, with the first
stirrings of guilt that I had spent hours in bed with Paddy this afternoon, when I had come over
to Paris to offer her comfort, not to have fun. She waved and stood up as I approached, and we
met in a hug that was probably embarrassingly desperate on my side. I didn’t care. She was
here, and she was safe. Nothing else mattered.
I stepped back to look at her properly. She looked well – incredibly well, considering
the tears of two days before. Even on a cursory glance I could see the changes in her. There
were the obvious physical ones: her long, blonde hair had been cut to her shoulders, her face
glowed with a natural tan and I didn’t recognise the stylish clothes she was wearing. But there
were other changes too, perhaps only visible to someone who knew her as well as I did. She
seemed taller, brighter, more confident – glittering like Faye had once done, just as, with the
shorter hair, she became less like her in appearance.
It didn’t take long to work out the cause of the changes. As soon as I had pulled away
from Caitlyn, the man who had been sitting with her at the table rose and rested his hand on
her waist and she immediately leant into him. This must be the infamous Luc. I’d been through
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‘meet-the-boyfriend’ experiences before, with adolescent boys who made me feel achingly old.
Luc was something else: no more than twenty-five, I guessed, but with the assurance of a man
twice his age, and with gallons of charm that coated his every gesture like honey. My first
impression was that he reminded me of Paddy. I had no idea whether that was a good thing or
not.
‘ Enchanté,’ Luc said, grasping my upper arms and kissing my cheeks. He smiled at
Caitlyn. ‘ Tu ne m’avais pas dit que ta maman était aussi ravissante.’
‘Hello,’ I said, floundering for the first time this trip with my ignorance of French. I
hoped he could speak English, or my planned interrogation wouldn’t go well. I turned to Paddy,
who I distinctly remembered offering to be my translator on this trip, but he wasn’t paying
attention and was busy staring at Caitlyn. No wonder; she would catch anyone’s eye, and as a
mother or an aunt I couldn’t have been prouder of her. I wished I knew what Paddy was making
>
of her. Was he remembering the child he had known, and trying to find traces of her in the
woman?
Caitlyn was returning Paddy’s stare with interest until she transferred it to me.
‘Good job we were given a table for four,’ she said, with a mischievous grin. She leant
forward on the pretext of giving me another hug and whispered in my ear. ‘A vast improvement
on Rich.’
‘It’s not …’ I began, but stopped when vivid memories of rolling in bed with Paddy
less than an hour ago flashed through my mind. I hoped I wasn’t blushing; thank goodness the
bistro was dimly lit. Caitlyn laughed.
‘I think Paris agrees with you,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about what you’ve been
up to today.’
All of it? That wasn’t going to happen. I glanced at Paddy, who was grinning as broadly
as Caitlyn. Belatedly, I realised I should have made the introductions.
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‘This is Paddy,’ I said, as he came forward and kissed Caitlyn’s cheeks.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ Paddy said, and he looked it; he hadn’t stopped smiling since
we’d left the hotel. I looked round the table as we all sat down and marvelled at how normal –
how right – it felt for the four of us to be together like this. Six months ago this would have
been impossible; I would have done anything to avoid Paddy Friel. Now he was at my side, his
arm brushing against mine, the very proximity of him making my blood warm with desire, and
it felt as though, somehow, I’d passed through time and found myself in the life I should have
had. And it felt wonderful.
‘We should have champagne, do you think?’ Luc asked, gesturing for the waiter.
‘Not for me,’ I said. ‘I don’t drink. Water will be fine …’ But the waiter was already
here, pouring champagne into four glasses.
‘Now you can’t let that go to waste,’ Paddy murmured to me. ‘Be kind to yourself.
We’ve lots to celebrate, haven’t we? All of us here, together.’
Paddy was as intoxicating as anything in the glass he was holding out to me. My
resistance wavered. I had given up alcohol many years ago, an instinctive reaction so that I
A Dozen Second Chances (ARC) Page 27
