One Way Ticket to Paris: An emotional, feel-good romantic comedy

by Emma Robinson

  She’d been even more exhausted than usual, that day. Her dad had been in hospital for a week and she’d been there every evening. A coffee had sounded like a really good idea. She had also been intrigued to find out which ‘old times’ he wanted to talk about. Do you remember how we lived together and all you wanted to do was hang out in music venues with your mates, playing and getting drunk? Good times.

  He’d pointed at her wedding ring. ‘So, you’re married?’

  Kate had looked at her ring too. ‘Yes. With two children.’ When they’d first broken up, she’d fantasised about flaunting a perfect family in front of Tim’s face one day like an eighties gameshow host: Just look at what you could have won! ‘You?’

  He pulled a ‘don’t be ridiculous’ face. ‘No. Living with someone, though. She’s a cellist.’

  Of course he was dating another musician. Non-musical people didn’t exist for Tim. ‘Good for you.’

  He shrugged. ‘What about you? Are you still playing?’

  Kate thought of the poor, abandoned piano at home. Expensive letter rack. ‘Not much. I don’t really get the time.’

  Tim had shaken his head. ‘Then you have to make time. I can’t believe you’re not playing. You were the one who would practise every composition until it was beyond perfect.’

  She’d met Tim at Manchester University, where they had both been studying music – and they’d discovered they lived only a few miles from each other back home. But Tim and his saxophone was the only serious relationship he would ever need. If you’d taken the saxophone away from him, he would probably have stopped breathing. Kate had been the same about the piano at one time. They had a passion for performance in common. Or at least, they’d used to.

  Kate picked up her paper cup and sipped at the scalding coffee. ‘Life gets busy.’

  Tim had leaned forwards. ‘But playing is life, Kate. Listen, I know you’re a follow-the-sheet-music kind of girl, but I’ve started playing at a really great jazz club in Dartford. I know’ – he held up a hand at her mocking smile – ‘it’s hardly bright-lights, big-city, but it’s a cool place. You should come.’

  She’d shaken her head. There was no way she could fit in a night at a jazz club. Life had already been passing in a blur of home, school run, hospital, school run, home, hospital. Her mum kept saying that she didn’t have to come every day, but how could she not? No one had promised them that Dad wouldn’t have another heart attack. What if the day she didn’t go in had been his last day?

  She had been a terrible mother during those weeks of hospital visits. She’d had to give in and let Luke take over every bedtime – much to Thomas’ screamed annoyance – because she’d had to dash back to the hospital as soon as he got home. They had barely seen one another. Even when she’d been with the kids, she hadn’t had any patience with them: screaming at them for the smallest misdemeanour. And here she was now in Paris, being a terrible mother again.

  She sat up and stopped the music on her mobile. Brought up her contacts on the screen.

  The phone rang and rang at the other end. Her dad had used to get so cross when she didn’t answer her phone. Her parents had never had any comprehension of using voicemail. Wherever they were in the house, or whatever they were doing, one of them would race to reach the telephone before it stopped ringing. Heaven forbid they didn’t make it and the person rang off.

  ‘Hello?’ came a rather harassed voice on the other end.

  ‘I’m here!’ Kate tried to sound enthusiastic rather than nervous.

  Nina didn’t pick up on her nerves. ‘Kate! That was quick. How was your journey?’

  ‘Fine. Easy. No unscheduled trips to the toilet, no arguments about who was sitting where and no painful games of eye spy. It was marvellous.’ Kate loved Nina. She was the kind of friend you could tell that you had fantasised about walking out of a play centre and leaving your children behind and she would nod along, rather than threaten to report you to social services.

  ‘Lucky you. We’re doing craft.’

  Kate shuddered. The two of them also shared a common phobia of tissue paper and stick-on googly eyes. Why were children so obsessed with making things? Melissa the Super Mother was regularly posting photographs of her child’s latest creations and, to be fair, they were often pretty amazing. Clearly Chloe hadn’t done them alone, but still.

  ‘Crikey. Can’t you distract him with a rice cake or something?’ Nina’s youngest child was still at preschool, but this was obviously not one of his days there.

  ‘It’s not too bad. I’ve hidden the glue and glitter, I’ve just covered a page in double-sided sticky tape and given him a bowl of dried pasta. Anyway, I’d rather talk about you. Have you met up with your friend yet?’

  ‘Yes. She was really shocked. Good shocked.’ Kate had been a little shocked by Shannon, too. It had been brilliant to see her – and to remember some of their crazy past – but she hadn’t looked her usual vibrant self. To be fair, Kate hadn’t seen her in over a year except through Facebook pictures, and everyone knew how much of a lie they were.

  ‘Noah, can you try and keep the felt tip on the paper? Sorry, Kate, I am listening.’

  Kate wasn’t offended. It was impossible to have a telephone conversation with a small person in the vicinity. Pre-children, Kate had found this immensely irritating, having a third person in every conversation. Never knowing whether to wait for the parent on the other end to finish speaking to their child or whether to just keep talking regardless. Either way, it had always felt like they weren’t really listening. Now that she was the parent with the interrupting progeny, she knew that they weren’t.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s just a quick question anyway. I’ve had a text from the school about this “dress like a farmer” day. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, yeah. I think I’m going to pick up a checked shirt in Primark tomorrow. Do you want me to get one for Alice?’

  Kate gave a sigh of relief. ‘If you could, that would be wonderful. What would I do without you? I really am grateful, Nina. You’ve been amazing these last few months.’ Kate heard the tremor in her own voice. Nina had been a complete rock.

  ‘Hey, it’s fine. You’ve had a tough time. You’d do the same for me. Look, if Luke calls me, what do you want me to say?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About what’s going on? Does he know where you are?’

  Was he going to be surprised that she was in Paris? She’d been suggesting a trip here since Shannon moved, but Luke had always had a reason not to go. He had to travel a lot for his job, just like she used to do. When he wasn’t at work, he wanted to be at home: just the four of them. Never mind that Kate was climbing the walls like a caged animal.

  ‘I’m going to text him as soon as I’ve finished speaking to you. I’ve had a message from him to say he’s going to be late, so I’ll tell him to collect the kids from you, if that’s still okay? If he asks you anything when he comes, just plead ignorance.’

  Nina snorted. ‘Well, that’s easy enough these days. Noah, get off the table! Sorry, Kate, I have to go. I’ll definitely pick up the kids and bring them home with me. Will you keep me posted about, you know, everything?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll speak to you later.’

  As soon as their call ended, Kate started to type a text to Luke. He might not understand. He might think she was crazy. He might not even… She stopped typing. She should think longer about what to write. In the meantime, she needed to check the Eurostar website and see about a return ticket for her, and a ticket for Luke.

  The hotel had a pretty fast Wi-Fi connection and it didn’t take long to find the tickets she was looking for. The price made her gulp. If she’d got a bargain on her one-way ticket here, they would definitely make their money back on her return journey. And what about Luke’s ticket? It was a total extravagance if he refused to come. He could easily get out of it: it was last-minute, he’d have to make arrangements for the kids, it was expensive. But
if she bought the ticket… and texted his mum to look after the kids… and told him how much she wanted him there… would he come?

  She bought the tickets.

  Now she should get out of this room. What was the point of being in this wonderful city and just sitting in a hotel? She checked she had everything she needed in her bag. Alongside broken hairclips and pages of stickers, she found two emergency packets of Haribo in the inner zipped pocket. Of all the things to make her feel a pang of guilt: sweets shaped like fried eggs and diamond rings.

  Shannon had said she was going to the Louvre, but its vast echoing halls would be too overwhelming today. No, if Kate was going to find herself, she’d need to go back to the beginning. And she knew just where to start.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laura

  A work colleague you’d only met a handful of times was probably not the best person to give you advice on your ten-year relationship. Laura’s conversation with Paolo about James at the last meeting had been bordering on intimate. The nerves she’d had about seeing him again had only been based around her fears that he would pick up where they’d left off, but now she’d seen him and nothing inappropriate had passed between them, she could relax. That was a relief. Wasn’t it?

  It was definitely a relief when Shannon turned up to meet them. Robert had spent the rest of their Louvre visit wandering from person to person, making light conversation whilst looking at each of them intently, as if he could read the sales figures which were constantly kicking around their brains. When they emerged from the galleries into the light of the midday sun, they made their way towards the minibus where Shannon was waiting, wearing huge sunglasses and an even bigger grin.

  ‘Laura! So great to see you!’ Shannon gave her a huge hug. ‘Has Robert been playing nicely?’ she asked, without moving her lips from her smile.

  ‘Kind of.’ Shannon might be a good ear to listen to her woes, but she still worked very closely with Robert. Best to play it safe.

  Shannon leaned in and lowered her voice even more. ‘And what about Paolo?’ She raised an eyebrow.

  Laura felt the heat in her cheeks. What had Shannon said that for? By the time she’d opened her mouth to reply, Shannon was already working her way around the rest of the group, shaking hands and welcoming everyone to Paris, before ushering them back into into the minibus.

  Hanging back as the others got on meant that Laura could avoid Paolo again and engineer a seat next to Shannon. Robert sat at the back of the minibus, but they were so crowded together on there, that Laura still couldn’t talk to Shannon about her customer worries without someone overhearing them. The upside was that Shannon couldn’t ask her about Paolo, either. She hoped.

  Laura stuck to safe topics instead. ‘How come you missed the Louvre tour?’

  ‘I was meeting up with a friend. A total surprise visit. She got the train in from England this morning. We only had time for a quick coffee but she’s staying in our hotel, so we can hook up later.’

  Now Shannon had pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head like a headband, Laura could see that she looked a little tired. Sad, even. It must be quite lonely moving to a completely different country on your own. ‘Is she a close friend?’

  Shannon frowned and thought for a few moments. ‘Well, we were real close, when I was in England. We worked together in London and we went out a lot.’ Shannon’s intonation was so expressive, Laura could almost see the punctuation marks as she spoke. ‘But since I’ve been here, we haven’t spoken very often. She’s got a young family and I guess that takes up a lot of her time.’ She made the one-childless-woman-to-another face.

  Laura knew what that meant. In the last three years, she’d had several friends virtually drown overnight under the tide of motherhood. She missed them. ‘Seems like a lot of work, being a mother.’

  Shannon nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yeah. Plus, she’s had a pretty rough ride in other ways this last year.’ She didn’t go into detail and Laura didn’t ask – they were only work colleagues, after all. Well, they were for now. Who knew what these meetings tomorrow would bring?

  ‘Well, feel free to go and meet her during my sales presentation tomorrow.’ Laura took a furtive look to see if anyone was listening and lowered her voice. ‘And if you could take Robert with you – that would be a real bonus.’

  Shannon looked concerned. ‘Are you still worrying about that big return from Machon?’

  Laura nodded. Why had she agreed to leave the finance department and move over into sales? Making the spreadsheets, creating graphs, writing reports: that had been fun. But trying to persuade customers to take stock of three times as many units as they would ever hope to sell? Not so much. She’d only got this job because the previous sales exec had been snapped up by a rival company, and she’d been persuaded to cover his role while they looked around for a replacement. By a stroke of luck, sales had been good that quarter and she’d met his target purely by taking a few people to lunch and asking them nicely to take a little extra stock. Robert had been so impressed that he’d made her promotion permanent. Now times were a little harder, he had probably started to reassess his previous faith in her.

  Shannon patted her hand. ‘It’ll be okay, honey. And there’s no point in worrying about it until it actually happens. I checked the orders again this morning and there’s been nothing returned yet. When they do, we’ll deal with it.’

  Shannon’s phone rang and she patted Laura’s hand again before picking the phone up and leaning towards the window to speak.

  Laura pulled out her own phone to check her email again. Could she be lucky enough to escape? It was a Friday after all; they wouldn’t submit a returns request over the weekend.

  James had replied to her earlier text: Glad you’re there safely. Sorry about last night – we’ll talk when you get back xxx

  She relaxed back into her seat. Maybe she had overreacted. James was actually very kind and thoughtful. He got cross sometimes, but he always apologised, and it probably wasn’t the best time to bring up the subject of their future when he’d just got home from a busy day. He liked to wind down in the evenings. For all his foray into expensive tailoring and new-found knowledge of wine, he was actually a pipe and slippers type.

  When they’d first got together, Laura’s uni friends had teased her about how square James was. The whole time she’d known him at university, he’d been in the library every minute outside of classes, wanting to make sure he secured a first-class degree. He wouldn’t even stay in the Students’ Union bar past ten p.m. on a weeknight. He had always had such a clear plan of where he was going to go in life. So why was he so reluctant to make a plan with Laura? It didn’t add up.

  She scrolled back through other messages from James. Some were very sweet: Hope you’re having a good day! x. But there were quite a few apologies too. Sorry about last night x and We’ll talk about this when work calms down a bit x. If she kept scrolling back, could she pinpoint the exact moment they had started arguing about marriage and babies?

  James didn’t know about her past pregnancy. There was no way she could have had the baby. She had only been nineteen, and Liam seemed to have forgotten she even existed. Imagine how he would have reacted to news of a child. She had been terrified: not just terrified of having the baby, but terrified of making the decision not to have it. And then going through with that decision. Trying to work out what to do had been the worst week of her life.

  In the end, all her indecision had been irrelevant. She’d lost the baby. She’d woken with intense cramps and there had been blood on her sheets. A lot of blood. A miscarriage. Probably about ten weeks, the hospital said. Laura should have been relieved but she had just felt really, really sad. Had her body agreed that she was not ready to be a mother? Had her restless nights and anxious days made the miscarriage happen? The kind nurse had told her it was very common. That one in four pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and most of those were in the first trimester. That it didn’t mean she wouldn�
�t be able to have a perfectly successful pregnancy next time. But was that true? At the time, Laura hadn’t thought about it too deeply, but a couple of years ago, she’d done some research and read on a hospital website that one in a hundred women have recurrent miscarriages. It was small odds, but that one in a hundred had to be someone. What if it was her? And how would she know for sure until she tried again?

  Shannon was still on her phone. She mouthed ‘sorry’ at Laura and turned back to the window. Laura looked past her to the busy roads outside. Off down a side street, she saw a man and a woman strolling along, holding hands. They were both beautiful: she wore a long white dress and trailed a loose bouquet, he was in a shirt and trousers and… there was a photographer following them. Another bloody wedding! Was the whole planet getting hitched except her?

  Circumstances had made it easy for her to keep her secret. They’d had some important accountancy exams going on at the time, so James had been at the library even more than usual. He’d believed her story that she wanted to study alone in her room: had even approved of it. And when she’d been reticent about their relationship also moving to the bedroom, he had been such a gentleman, had never pushed for anything. Gradually, they’d come together and the sex had always been nice, kind of comforting, safe. James was much more suitable for Laura than Liam would have been. Sensible. Dependable. Safe.

  Laura turned back in her seat to see Paolo looking at her from across the aisle. Quickly, she looked back at her phone screen and pushed down the butterflies. Sensible. Dependable. Safe.

  For no other reason than to avoid Paolo’s gaze, she checked through her apps: email, WhatsApp, Instagram. There were another two property links from her mother on WhatsApp – why had Laura ever shown her how to use it? – and a message from Tina.