When Archie Met Rosie

by Lynda Renham

  ‘You wouldn’t get me wasting five hundred quid on a coat,’ retorts Archie.

  Nor me, I want to say but keep my frozen blue lips together.

  Puny Rick stamps his feet.

  ‘It’s fucking cold, Matt, can we get on.’

  His nose is bright pink. I can see a bubble of snot bulging as he breathes. I want to offer him the fragranced hanky, but I don’t.

  ‘You’ve got such a potty mouth,’ says Archie crossly. ‘Talking like that in front of a lady.’

  That’s nice of Archie isn’t it? I’ve never been called a lady before and Frank’s language used to be a lot more colourful. But Frank’s not here any more is he? It is freezing though, I can’t disagree with that. I can’t feel my fingers or my toes any more.

  ‘Yeah, shut it, Rick,’ says Matt tiredly. ‘So, are you two an item?’

  I feel myself flush.

  ‘It was nice seeing you Matt,’ says Archie moving past.

  ‘He’ll follow us,’ I whisper.

  ‘No he won’t. I sorted it about your loan.’

  ‘You did?’ I say surprised.

  ‘You two fancy a dirty little break in Paris?’ calls Matt.

  ‘What did you say?’ asks Archie turning around.

  Oh no, just as I thought we were going to get away too.

  ‘Keep your ‘air on,’ says Matt holding up his hands. ‘It’s just I got two air tickets for Paris. The flights in a couple of hours and I can’t go. They won’t change them. I tried. The thing is I’ve got a fight on later. It’s me own boxer, and he’s a good little fighter too. I don’t want to miss it. So I figured I’d give ‘em away.’

  ‘I’ll have ‘em,’ says Rick.

  ‘What are you gonna do with two tickets to Paris?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Matt raises his eyebrows.

  ‘It’s ‘ard work with this one, I tell yer.’

  ‘Let’s see them,’ says Archie.

  Matt takes off his black leather glove and pulls a wallet from his overcoat. He hands the tickets to Archie.

  ‘I got ‘em in exchange for a debt. If you don’t ‘ave ‘em, I’ll just throw ‘em.’

  ‘What about him?’ Archie asks, nodding towards Rick.

  Matt laughs.

  ‘What’s he going to do in Paris, except complain that everyone speaks a different language?’

  ‘How much?’ asks Archie.

  ‘Twenty quid.’

  ‘Done,’ says Archie, pulling out his wallet. I watch in amazement as Matt hands over the tickets. He pats Archie on the shoulder and says,

  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  ‘That gives us a lot of scope,’ Archie says before taking my arm.

  We walk away from Matt Fisher and along the street. I don’t mind telling you that I’m in a bit of a daze.

  ‘Right girl,’ says Archie. ‘Let’s get our stuff together and get to the airport. We’re off to Paris.’

  Me, Rosie Foster, off to Paris, just like that. Who’d have thought it?

  *

  I barely have time to think. Archie drops me off at the house and I throw things into a suitcase. I charge my mobile up while I’m packing and then take a quick shower. We have an hour to get to Stanstead, and even then, Archie said we’d be late but hopefully we’d catch the flight.

  ‘Where will we stay?’ I’d asked.

  ‘That’s easy. They’ll be plenty of places. It’ll be lovely walking along the Champs-Élysées. They’ll have the Christmas lights. You’re going to love it.’

  I’m that excited. Paris at Christmas, it’s my dream come true. I’m almost ready when Archie knocks. I remember to phone work and leave a message. I don’t say I’m off to Paris, obviously. I feel guilty saying I’m sick when I’m not, but what else am I supposed to do? I’m expected back at work tomorrow, but I have to go to Paris, don’t I?

  ‘Let’s go,’ he says.

  The taxi driver takes my case and puts it into the boot.

  ‘Do you have everything?’ asks Archie.

  ‘I think so,’ I say.

  I have myself and that’s what counts. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’m off to Paris. Just wait until I tell Doris and Shirl. I must get them something when I’m there, something typically French.

  We catch our flight in the nick of time and it’s only when I go to turn my phone off that I realise it is still charging back home in my little house. Sam is going to kill me.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Rosie

  I must admit to feeling I am in a whirlpool. We had a glass of French wine on the plane, to start off the holiday in style. Before I know it, we are landing at Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris. I’m sure I spend most of the journey to the B&B with my mouth open. I’m amazed to discover that Archie can speak French and he arranges a taxi and books two nights in a guest house. We drive along the Champs-Élysées in the early hours and I feel like I’m in a film. It’s beautifully illuminated with Christmas lights. Everywhere is so alive and vibrant. Archie says there is a Christmas market and that we will go and see it tomorrow.

  I’m really cross that I left my phone behind. I can’t even phone Sam as his number is in my phone. How stupid is that? What a daft brush I am. Frank was always calling me one. Still we’re only here for a few days. I doubt anyone will notice we’ve gone. Archie is as bad as me and didn’t even bring his phone.

  ‘Who am I going to call?’ he’d asked.

  ‘Won’t your son be worried?’ I’d said.

  ‘Huh, they’re too full of themselves. They won’t be thinking about me.’

  The taxi pulls up and we trudge our suitcases up the stairs of the guest house. Archie gets us adjoining rooms.

  ‘Here we are,’ says Archie as we stand in the hallway. ‘Sleep well. I’ll give you a knock in the morning at nine. We’ll go to the Christmas market.’

  ‘Thank you Archie,’ I say. ‘This is wonderful.’

  He smiles. He’s quite handsome when he smiles, is Archie.

  ‘Sleep tight,’ he says.

  I close the door. I doubt I will sleep at all. I’m in Paris. Who sleeps when they’re in Paris? The bedroom is small and compact. I look out of the window onto the brightly lit Champs-Élysées. A small sigh escapes me. What would Frank think if he could see me now? So much has happened in such a short time. One minute, Matt Fisher is chasing me for money and the next he is paying for my dream to come true and all for twenty quid. I had imagined spending quite a bit of my winnings on a trip to Paris. Who’d have thought it would have been Matt Fisher who would save me money?

  I lie on the bed and close my eyes and within seconds I’m asleep.

  *

  It’s freezing cold in Paris too, but somehow I don’t feel it. We have warm croissants and coffee for breakfast at a little café near the guest house. We sit at a small table where I can watch the other customers, and I drink up the atmosphere. There is music playing but this is drowned out by the chatter of the others in the café. The waitress asks Archie something and he replies, but I have no idea what he said. We then go to the Christmas market. It’s bustling with people and we jostle our way amongst the stalls. I see so much that I want to buy. Archie insists I try a macaroon and we share a bag between us. He takes photos of me outside the guest house, sitting on the carousel and walking along the Champs-Élysées. He even takes photos of me devouring a pastry from the boulangerie. I’m going to get some croissants when I go home. Lidl sell them. I don’t imagine they taste anything like the ones in Paris, but it will bring back memories. I’ve never been so happy. I nag Archie so much about the Eiffel Tower that eventually we leave the market and walk to it. It is more breathtaking than I even imagined. I could look at it for hours. Archie says we can go up to the top tomorrow.

  Archie suggests we go back for a little nap before going to dinner. I say I couldn’t possibly nap but of course, I do, because I’m that exhausted. Archie knocks for me about six and we go to a lovely restaurant.r />
  ‘Here’s to us,’ says Archie, lifting his wine glass.

  Archie had ordered a lovely rosé wine. It tastes wonderful.

  ‘Thank you so much for bringing me,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he smiles. ‘It’s been nice coming with you. It’s nice having company again.’

  I nod. He’s quite right. It’s no fun being on your own. Frank wasn’t a great husband, but he was company and I miss that a lot.

  ‘Yes, I miss the companionship,’ I say. ‘Although, Frank wasn’t great company but having that presence, you know. It made a difference.’

  ‘Don’t bother getting a cat,’ he laughs. ‘They’re no flipping company.’

  ‘I love your cat,’ I say.

  ‘She loves you too. She always knows when you’re coming.’

  I pick at my hors d'oeuvre.

  ‘I bet Moira will be cross when she finds out you brought your cleaner to Paris.’

  ‘You’re not just my cleaner,’ he says, his expression serious. ‘You’re my lady friend.’

  That sounds lovely doesn’t it, to be someone’s lady friend?

  ‘I’m really pleased to be your lady friend,’ I say shyly.

  ‘Here’s to us then,’ says Archie, touching his glass against mine.

  We walk back to the guest house arm in arm, stopping to do some shopping on the way. I buy a lovely candleholder for Doris and a pretty bag for Shirl. Tomorrow I’ll choose something for Michael and Sam. I only hope they aren’t too cross with me.

  We climb the steps to the guest house and I hesitate outside my bedroom.

  ‘Well, goodnight,’ says Archie.

  I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘Goodnight,’ I say.

  ‘See you in the morning,’ he smiles giving me a quick peck on the lips. I realise my legs are trembling. How daft is that? I close the door and lean against it. What would Moira make of that, I wonder?

  I’m about to turn back the bedcovers when there is a light tap on the door. It’s Archie.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, smiling.

  ‘Can I have a word?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course,’ I say opening the door wider.

  He steps inside, and I wait patiently. Good heavens, he surely isn’t going to make a pass at me, is he? I’ve no idea what I’ll do if he does. The last time a man made a pass at me, I was about seventeen and the boy was drunk.

  ‘The thing is …’ begins Archie.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  I’m quite worried. Supposing he’s regretting this whole Paris trip and is now realising he can’t possibly keep me as his cleaner? I can’t go through all that worry again. Becky will get right fed up with me.

  ‘This is my Cath,’ he says, pulling a photo from his pocket.

  He hands it to me. It’s a fairly recent photo, I imagine. She was attractive and quite elegant. The type of woman I would expect Archie to be with.

  ‘We had a good marriage. Fifty years we were together. I miss her, of course.’

  ‘Of course you do. She was lovely,’ I say, handing back the photo.

  He slides it back into his pocket and looks at me.

  ‘The thing is life goes on doesn’t it? Cath would hate me to be alone and miserable, and you’re on your own now that your Frank has gone.’

  I don’t like to say I was alone long before Frank went.

  ‘So, I see no reason why you and I can’t be a couple.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say.

  He looks closely at me.

  ‘What do you think?’

  I blush.

  ‘I’d like that, Archie.’

  He exhales.

  ‘Good, we’ll take it slowly.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agree.

  ‘Just friends for the moment?’ he says, with a wink.

  Now, I really am blushing.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right,’ he says turning to the door. ‘I’ll leave you in peace. Night, Rosie.’

  ‘Night, Archie.’

  The door closes behind him and I stand staring at it. Finally, I wander to the window and look out at the lights of Paris. I feel a little tear drop onto my cheek. It may be a bit late but I’m finally feeling that my life is looking up. They say you’re never too old, don’t they?

  *

  Paris is everything I always imagined it would be. Our three days here is nowhere near long enough to see everything.

  ‘We’ll come again,’ Archie had said.

  We walk through the busy Parisian streets. Everyone is excited about Christmas and their excitement is contagious. When we get too cold we stop at one of the street-side cafés where red wine and hot chocolate are in abundance. We sit quietly and watch the street scenes. It’s magical. Each time I see the Eiffel Tower I tingle with excitement. The view from the top of is breathtaking. The whole of Paris is laid out before us.

  ‘What do you think?’ asks Archie.

  I’m speechless. I’d dreamed of this moment, but the reality is far better.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say breathlessly.

  We walk under the Arc de Triomphe and towards the street café we have frequented for breakfast. We have pastries and red wine and sit enjoying the view until it becomes too cold to sit any longer.

  ‘We’ll come back in the spring,’ says Archie.

  I want to see Paris every season. I slide my arm through Archie’s as we stroll along the river Seine. I’ve never been so happy. My dreams have come true. I no longer live on the Tradmore Estate and I have finally been to Paris.

  Chapter Sixty

  Moira and Sam

  Moira opened the door and stepped back in surprise when she saw Sam.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry to drop by so late but I was hoping to catch you and your husband.’

  ‘Come in,’ Moira said, stepping to one side.

  Sam didn’t feel at all comfortable in Moira’s house. It was too fancy for his liking and he didn’t really want to see that idiot husband of hers either, but he had no choice.

  ‘Harry,’ called Moira.

  Harry walked into the hall. He wasn’t at all what Sam had been expecting. He didn’t look in the least like Archie. He was tall and slim. There wasn’t any muscle on him, Sam noted. He certainly didn’t look the type to be screwing with a 25-year-old.

  ‘I came to tell you that Archie and my mum are okay. They’re in Paris.’

  ‘Paris?’ echoed Harry.

  ‘Matt Fisher gave them air tickets.’

  ‘Matt Fisher? But I thought …’

  Sam grinned.

  ‘Yeah I thought the same thing. It seems your dad had a word with him.’

  ‘Dad had a word with Matt Fisher?’ said Moira.

  ‘He’ll get himself into trouble one day,’ said Harry, his lips tightening.

  ‘I think your dad can handle himself,’ said Sam turning to the door. ‘Anyway, they’re safe, that’s the important thing.’

  ‘Thank you, Sam,’ said Moira.

  He nodded and opened the front door.

  ‘They’ll be back in a few days,’ said Sam.

  ‘I’ll have a few choice words for him when he does,’ said Harry. Sam ignored him and walked to his car. What a plonker, he thought.

  *

  Holly rushed down the stairs.

  ‘Is that Grandad?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘Grandad is in Paris,’ said Harry scathingly. ‘He didn’t even bother to tell us.’

  ‘Probably because you never listen to him,’ said Holly bitterly. ‘You always talk down to him.’

  ‘Holly,’ reprimanded Moira.

  ‘Well, it’s true,’ said Holly, storming back upstairs.

  The bedroom door slammed behind her, and Moira sighed.

  ‘Moira …’ began Harry.

  ‘Not now,’ she said walking away.

  He touched her arm.

  ‘I felt rejected,’ he said.

  She turned to look at him. His face was drawn and there w
ere dark rings under his eyes.

  ‘Is it over?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course, I don’t even understand why I started it.’

  She bowed her head.

  ‘I know I can be a bitch at times …’

  ‘That’s true,’ he smiled.

  ‘I just want the best for us,’ she said feeling the tears beginning again.

  ‘We have the best, Moira.’

  She nodded.

  ‘I know.’

  He hugged her uncertainly.

  ‘It will take time Harry.’

  ‘Yes. Let’s just think about Christmas.’

  She wiped away her tears and pulled back.

  ‘I’ll make tea.’

  Perhaps she’ll put the tree up later, she thought.

  *

  ‘She’s in Paris,’ said Doris, accepting the lager from Crabbers.

  ‘You what?’ said Shirl.

  ‘She’s in Paris, with that Archie.’

  Crabbers squeezed into the seat beside Shirl.

  ‘I was sure they were at the bottom of the Thames,’ he said. ‘I would have taken bets on it.’

  Christmas music blasted out from the pub’s speakers.

  ‘She might have said something,’ said Doris. ‘Here we were all worried and she’s living it up in Paris.’

  ‘I’d like to go to Paris,’ said Crabbers.

  Doris saw Bert enter the pub and waved.

  ‘Over here,’ she called.

  ‘What’s this about Rosie in Paris?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s gone with that Archie bloke.’

  ‘She’s a sly one,’ grinned Bert.

  ‘A dark horse alright,’ said Shirl.

  ‘I hope she brings us back some French perfume,’ said Doris.

  ‘I’m relieved,’ said Becky joining them. ‘For a while I had these horrid visions of cleaning up after her murder.’

  Doris laughed.

  ‘Wait till we tell her the goings-on here.’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Rosie

  Doris clings to my arm as we step through the snow. It has been snowing for over a week now. Archie and I had our flight cancelled because it was so bad. We didn’t mind though. It meant we had another day in Paris, and Paris in the snow is magical. Oh, I did have a fabulous time. Of course I had to come back to Brian’s outraged face. Crabbers had mentioned to one of his market customers that I was in Paris. It just so happened she works on the meat counter at Waitrose. He wasn’t to know. In fact, he was so relieved I wasn’t at the bottom of the Thames that he just wanted to tell everyone. So, I couldn’t have a go at him. He even gave me three bath towels and a set of flannels to apologise. He’s alright is Crabbers.