When I Fall in Love

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘He’s here to drive and nothing else,’ Daisy said, ducking as Olly threw a napkin at her.

  ‘Do we need to have another rehearsal?’ Lewis asked, wincing as Stan jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

  Elsie hoped her expression was as relaxed as she wanted it to be. ‘Actually, I think we’ve rehearsed enough. We ought to enjoy the city tonight after all the hard work we’ve put in. Added to that, we’re booked on a sightseeing tour tomorrow before the concert, so we wouldn’t have time to rehearse anyway. Don’t worry, though. I believe we’re ready.’

  Aoife raised her hand. ‘What will be seeing on the tour?’

  Elsie grinned. ‘Pretty much all the classic sights – the Champs-Elysées, Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Luxembourg Gardens, the Eiffel Tower …’ She paused as she saw Aoife’s face light up. ‘I thought it would be good for us to see the city without Olly having to navigate it.’

  Olly laughed. ‘I second that thought. I’m looking forward to being chauffeured!’

  ‘While we’re making speeches,’ Woody said, lifting his glass, ‘I vote we raise a toast to our esteemed choirmistress. This wonderful angel has made all of this happen. Without her we wouldn’t be here. Elsie, babe, you’re a top chick. To Elsie!’

  All around the improvised group table glasses were raised and Elsie felt her face flushing red as The Sundaes cheered around her.

  After their meal, Elsie and the choir walked slowly through the Latin Quarter, their spirits boosted by considerable amounts of wine. Everything Lucas had dreamed about this city seemed to be coming true: Paris was magical at night. The boulevards and small alleyways were framed with streetlights and music drifted on the night air, giving the city a timeless, otherworldly atmosphere. After a while, Elsie wasn’t even aware of the constant hum of traffic, her mind ablaze with the sights, sounds and aromas of the City of Light.

  Seeing Olly walking alone at the back of the group, Elsie drew back to walk with him.

  ‘Hey you.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘You’re not too tired for this, are you? I wasn’t sure whether you needed an early night after driving us here.’

  He smiled, his handsome features bathed in the soft glow of lights from the bars and bistros they were passing. For the first time since they arrived, Elsie was acutely aware of how attractive he was – the realisation shocking her. Maybe it was the magic of the city working its spell on her, or maybe she was only now understanding what Oliver Hogarth meant to her – and could mean to her in future …

  ‘I’m fine. I like hanging out with you all. It’s fun – and this city should be fun. I can sleep later.’ He offered her his hand and, after contemplating it for a moment, she took it, the warmth of his skin on hers a perfect accompaniment to their progress through the Parisian streets. For this evening at least, thoughts of Lucas could wait: there would be more than enough time to consider everything tomorrow.

  They followed the boulevard Saint-Michel until they reached the quai des Grands Augustins. Aoife squealed and grabbed Danny’s hand.

  ‘It’s the Seine, Danny!’

  Smiling at the young couple, Daisy turned to the others. ‘Fancy a walk along the river?’

  Olly squeezed Elsie’s hand. ‘Great! I’ve always wanted to see the Seine. Shall we?’

  Heart thumping, Elsie nodded, following The Sundaes across the busy road and down a steep ramp onto the cobbled walkway alongside the river.

  ‘Ooh, it’s like An American in Paris!’ exclaimed Sheila, linking arms with Graeme. ‘Now you can be Gene Kelly and I’ll be Leslie Caron.’

  Graeme chuckled and launched into a bumbling waltz with her, singing ‘Our Love Is Here to Stay’ as Sheila giggled like a teenager and Daisy, Aoife, Danny and Lewis cheered.

  Woody sniffed, ‘That was my old mum’s favourite film, you know. Classic Kelly magic.’

  Shimmering with reflections of lights from the city streets surrounding it, the River Seine flowed hypnotically beside them as they walked past the barges and houseboats moored by the banks. Here by the riverside the buzz of Paris became a muted hum, the constant lap of water against the moored vessels mingling with the sounds of music and laughter from barges converted into bars. Elsie watched the group, enjoying the sight of their excitement at everything.

  ‘Which bridge is this?’ Lewis asked, when they neared the arched white stone structure.

  ‘It’s Pont Neuf,’ Daisy informed him.

  ‘I never thought I’d say this,’ said Sasha, ‘but that is one beautiful bridge.’

  Woody let out a gravelly laugh. ‘She’s mellowing at last!’

  ‘I am not. I just think the bridge is cool.’

  Olly bent down to pick up a stone from the cobbled walkway and offered it to Elsie. ‘Here. Make a wish.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hold the stone in your hand, make a wish and throw it into the Seine.’

  Elsie stopped walking and stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Deadly.’

  ‘Is this some strange French tradition you know about?’

  Olly shrugged. ‘Not that I’m aware of. Just do it because it’s Paris and it’s a gorgeous night and it’s the kind of thing you do to remember memorable nights.’ He sighed. ‘I can tell you think I’m insane.’

  Confused as she was by his suggestion, Elsie was touched by the reasoning behind it. Taking the stone, she held it in her palm, feeling its coolness against her skin. She closed her eyes and the image of the Eiffel Tower flashed into her mind. Silently, she made her wish. Opening her eyes again, she walked to the water’s edge and threw the stone out over the dark waters. As it arced across the river it caught the light from Pont Neuf before disappearing into the depths of the Seine.

  Olly was smiling when she turned back. ‘Hope it comes true.’

  Two hours later, the weary group arrived back in the softly lit lobby of the Hotel Saint-Louis. Daisy, who still managed to look flawless even considering the late hour, stretched her arms out over her head. ‘Guys, it’s late. We have to find breakfast and get over to the coach tour meeting point for eleven tomorrow morning, so can I suggest we call it a night?’

  Agreeing, the choir members stood and said their goodnights, making their way up the marble staircase to their rooms. Woody yawned at the door to his and Olly’s room, a few steps down the corridor from the room Elsie and Daisy were sharing.

  ‘Anyone for a nightcap?’

  Elsie laughed. ‘You are a wonder, Mr Jensen. I don’t know how you do it.’

  ‘You never lose the skill,’ he replied, tipping the brim of his Stetson over his eyes. ‘Rock’n’roll, babe – it’s in my soul.’

  Olly said goodnight to Daisy as she headed down the corridor to the room before turning to Elsie.

  ‘Big day tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes indeed. I’ll be glad when we’ve done it, to be honest. There’s been so much planning to get here that it’ll be good to enjoy the results. I do hope Aoife says yes.’

  ‘She will. Paris isn’t the kind of place that lets you get away with maybes.’ His eyes fixed hers as she felt his arms encircling her. ‘Maybe another maybe might become a yes here.’ He looked away, embarrassed by his own words. ‘Man, that was lame. I meant …’

  ‘It’s OK, I know.’ Taking a deep breath, Elsie pushed the gathering questions within her away. ‘Maybe it will.’

  Daisy looked up as Elsie entered the room. ‘Good night?’

  ‘Daisy Heartsease Maynard, if ever there was a loaded question!’

  Her sister was unrepentant as she unfolded her pyjama bottoms. ‘It’s not against the law or anything, is it?’

  Elsie poked her tongue out and took off her shoes. ‘Stop stirring and do something useful. Tea, no sugar, thanks.’

  ‘Oh, charming! All I am is a refreshment machine to you …’ She picked up the travel kettle and headed into the tiny en-suite bathroom to fill it. ‘Have you spoken to Dad yet?’

  ‘Yes, I phoned him when we ar
rived. He’s missing us – although he mentioned that Louise was helping him?’

  ‘Which Louise?’

  ‘That’s what I asked him. Apparently when he was being plastered in A&E he procured the phone number of one of the nurses who, it appears, lives three doors away. Turns out she’s been popping in to keep him company most of the evenings this week.’

  Daisy reappeared, agog at the news. ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘Nope. He only felt brave enough to tell us when we were the other side of the Channel.’

  She shook her head. ‘Well I never, the sly old devil. Good for him. About time he looked out for himself instead of fussing over us three. I’m wondering if this weekend is going to turn out be surprising all round.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It’s supposed to mean exactly what you think.’ She sat on the edge of Elsie’s bed as the kettle began to boil. ‘What’s happening with Olly and you? Why are you still waiting?’

  Feeling cornered, Elsie turned her eyes towards the view of the street from their window. ‘I’m not … I’m just …’

  ‘Scared, I know. But he’s more than proved himself, hasn’t he? And you like him – that’s plain to see. I watched the two of you when we were walking by the Seine tonight. There’s so much chemistry there and I really think he could make you happy, Els. I think he deserves you to give him a shot. And I know you have so much going on right now in that head of yours, but this was what you said you wanted, remember? It’s what Lucas wanted for you …’

  This was too much. ‘Would you just stop hassling me? I can’t think about that now – here. So please, I’m begging you, don’t ask me. It’s been a great evening and we’re here to do something truly wonderful for two of our friends. Can that not be enough for tonight?’

  Stunned by Elsie’s response, Daisy took a step back. ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.’

  They prepared for bed without speaking further, the aftermath of Elsie’s words hanging like gunsmoke over their heads. Elsie immediately regretted her outburst, but weariness from the long day, together with the conflict of emotions still raging within, robbed her of sufficient words to repair the damage. After thirty minutes of enforced silence as they lay in their beds reading, Daisy lowered her book and held out her hand to Elsie.

  ‘Sweets, I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.’

  Relieved by the break in hostilities, Elsie reached across to hold her hand. ‘I know. I didn’t mean to shout … It’ll be better after tomorrow.’

  ‘It will. Sleep well.’ Daisy placed her book on the bedside table, switched off her light and settled down under the sheets.

  ‘You too.’ Elsie watched her sister for a long time, the buzz of nerves still claiming her insides. Then, her eyes heavy, she clicked the switch on her bedside light and fell into a deep slumber.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A beginning and an end

  ‘It’s official: I’m moving to Paris for the breakfasts!’ Danny exclaimed next morning, in between mouthfuls of freshly baked pastries. Having woken early and begun their journey towards the meeting point for their forthcoming coach tour, The Sundaes had discovered a small café a few blocks away and were now sitting around outside tables pushed together under the pale green awning, indulging in large helpings of baked goods and strong black coffee.

  Elsie, her mind preoccupied by the day that lay ahead, let her attention drift from the group to the other customers. The café was like Paris personified this morning. A group of older men huddled over their cigarettes nearby, a single newspaper spread over the table unread, catching croissant crumbs and falling ash. At the next table, two women who could have been anything from early twenties to mid-forties (in Paris it was almost impossible to tell), were debating some emotive topic, shielding their eyes from the pale morning sun with expensive sunglasses. A young man, perhaps a student, was engrossed in an antiquated copy of Proust, his coffee virtually untouched as he avidly turned the pages. The interior of the café was decorated in dark wood, with bare, polished floorboards and simple tables and chairs surrounding a glass counter not unlike the one in Sundae & Cher. Gilt-framed sepia photographs of Old Paris were clustered together around the walls and small brass lamps illuminated the customers as they enjoyed their morning meals.

  In typical French style, the only unwelcome detail of the café was the downright rude attitude of the staff. Even Daisy, a seasoned traveller and frequent visitor to the French capital with André over the past few years, appeared to be taken aback by their dismissive looks and complete absence of respect for the customers they purported to serve.

  ‘I have to say, these pains au raisin are excellent,’ Stan agreed, polishing off his third helping. ‘I could eat more of those.’

  Daisy caught the waiter’s attention and he approached, his scowl as obvious as the long apron he wore at his waist.

  ‘Oui?’ he snarled.

  She smiled and ordered another basket of pastries in flawless French. Observing her as if she were a bug floating in his soup, the waiter tutted and flounced off to the kitchen.

  Olly watched him leave. ‘All we’ve had since we arrived are surly looks and muttered insults. It’s like they think they’re doing us a favour letting us eat here.’

  ‘Nah, man, it’s always like this,’ Woody said. ‘Exactly the same attitude I got when I was last here with Hellfinger …’

  Another waiter, who was clearing plates from the next table suddenly turned, eyes wide open and rushed forward to shake Woody’s hand, much to everybody’s shock. ‘C’est Hellfinger, non? “Hard Rockin’ Summer”!’

  ‘Oh spare us,’ Sasha moaned, watching the waiter who was now attempting to sing Woody’s seminal hit, as the former frontman looked on amused.

  The waiter stopped singing and gazed at Woody as though he had just received a year’s wages as a tip. ‘It is an honour to have you in this café!’ He shook Woody’s hand so enthusiastically that Woody had to raise his other hand to prevent his Stetson from toppling off his head. ‘I am Henri Renard and I am in love with your music!’

  Even Woody appeared to be a little taken aback by the waiter’s recognition. ‘Always good to meet a fan.’

  ‘You are here for a rock concert, yeah? It is your comeback tour?’

  ‘If only, Henri,’ Woody replied. ‘But this concert is a little more … low key … if you get my meaning.’

  ‘Ah oui.’ The waiter leaned closer and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Hush-hush. D’accord.’

  ‘We’re a choir,’ Sasha interjected, keen to burst Woody’s bubble. ‘Woody’s one of our leaders.’

  Woody shrugged. ‘New direction, you know.’

  ‘I see. So if you are a choir you must sing something!’

  Sheila looked worried and Graeme dropped half of his croissant.

  ‘It’s a little early …’ Stan began.

  ‘This is not early for Paris,’ Henri scanned their faces, then threw his hands in the air. ‘OK. If you sing, I will lose your bill. We have a deal?’

  This was all the justification anyone needed for an impromptu performance. Everyone turned to Elsie for direction.

  ‘Right, ABBA/Deep Purple?’

  Song choice thus agreed, Henri called the other members of staff into the café from the kitchen and a young waitress who had been serving at the counter joined them to listen as The Sundaes launched into their favourite mash-up medley, incurring the mystified looks of local customers whose quiet petit déjeuners were being rudely interrupted. Stan and Lewis did their best to air-guitar while still holding half-eaten croissants and Graeme had to pause for a swig of coffee when he was hit by an attack of hiccups, but the enthusiasm of the elated choir carried them through it. The performance ended with applause from the suddenly less threatening café staff.

  ‘Bravo! It is magic!’ Henri exclaimed. ‘And as a reward, you shall have crêpes!’

  Almost an hour later, The Sundaes said goodbye to the
still-smiling unlikely Hellfinger fan and struggled out of the café.

  ‘I am never eating again,’ Daisy moaned. ‘I can’t remember when I ever ate that much for breakfast.’

  Olly patted his stomach. ‘Awesome crêpes, though. I should hang out with this choir more often if it means free food like that!’

  Elsie smiled to herself as the others laughed and joked around her. The events of the morning so far had proved a pleasant distraction. Before leaving her hotel room, Elsie had taken a moment to prepare for what lay ahead – slipping a couple of important items into her coat pocket. Now, she was reassured by their presence as her fingers closed around them, while around her the good-natured banter of her friends filled the air.

  What had begun as a sunny morning was fast becoming overcast and a strong breeze had sprung up, sending leaves skidding along the pavement from the autumnally-dressed trees above. Elsie could see Danny’s concern as he looked up at the leaden sky and instantly her mind returned to the day Lucas proposed to her …

  They say you can tell when a man is about to ask you to marry him because he begins to act very strangely. In Lucas’ case this was certainly true. He and Elsie were providing backstage assistance for a friend who was putting on an amateur production of Romeo and Juliet in a community theatre space near the centre of town. It was the dress rehearsal and tempers were fraying as overwrought actors clashed with lighting and set technicians in the old converted flour warehouse. Elsie remembered suddenly becoming aware of Lucas fidgeting as they waited for the next scene change. He must have looked at his watch twenty times in the space of five minutes, huffing each time he did. This was the first oddity that she noticed – Lucas rarely wore a watch at all and his relaxed attitude to timekeeping was nigh on legendary amongst their families and friends. It was a standing joke that when anyone invited him anywhere they had to observe the real time for the event and ‘Lucas-time’, which was at least half an hour before his presence was actually required. Elsie had bought him a watch for their first anniversary of going out, but he chose to wear it only for special occasions and job interviews. Therefore seeing it in a setting that was neither of the above was remarkable.