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

by Emma Robinson

  The old lady was clearly one of the good ones. She produced a pristine packet of Kleenex Balsam. ‘Come on, dear. Nothing can be that bad. What is it?’

  What was it? It was the not knowing that was the worst part of this. She had a loving, if slightly thoughtless, husband. Two healthy, happy children. They were financially stable, had a comfortable home and there were moments when the four of them were together and Kate felt like the luckiest woman alive. But other times…

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. The thing is, I… kind of… ran away. This morning. I just left without telling my husband and came out here, to Paris.’ Where had that come from? She didn’t normally confide in complete strangers like this. She looked at the old lady through her dripping eyelashes. Waiting to be told what a terrible mother she was. Instead, the woman patted her on the back.

  ‘Good for you, dear. Good for you. Sometimes it does them good to realise what it’s like when you’re not there. Taking you for granted, is he?’

  Kate felt terribly disloyal. Luke was a good husband. A good dad. But he was at work so much and she couldn’t make him see how difficult it was for her when he missed bedtime. Or spent a Saturday in the corporate box with a client. Or slipped off to the pub on a Friday night. ‘I don’t think he means to.’

  ‘Of course he doesn’t, but they just don’t understand what it’s like, do they?’

  Kate sniffed and dabbed at her nose. ‘I think I’m just tired.’

  ‘Of course you are. It’s worse for you mums today. All those clubs you take the children to. And making sure they eat their five-a-day. And providing all these educational toys.’ She nodded, wisely. ‘My youngest daughter has two little ones and she is just the same. Always driving them here, there and everywhere. Having those, what does she call them?’ she clicked her fingers together. ‘Playdates! That’s the word. What the heck is one of those, I asked her. Apparently it involves sitting in someone else’s house watching the children playing together whilst you think about the million other things you need to be getting done.’

  Kate smiled a watery smile. She had spent some painful playdates at Melissa’s house, apologising for the fact that her children wouldn’t eat any of Melissa’s healthy snacks and pretending that she had no idea why they kept asking for crisps because they never had those at home.

  ‘I wonder at the lot of you. When I had my children, they were just expected to get on and play with each other whilst I got on with my jobs. I wasn’t taking them to, what does she call it?’ She clicked her fingers again. ‘Sensory play! That’s it. Lying on a blanket playing with bits of tin foil and glowing bouncy balls apparently. My lot got some upturned saucepans and wooden spoons at home and they were happy for hours.’

  Kate had had this conversation with her own mother. You do too much, she always said. But when Kate compared herself to Melissa and some of the other mums at the school, she felt like she didn’t do anywhere near enough. The latest thing was swimming lessons. But the thought of taking them to the pool, getting them changed, getting them dry again… It had just felt overwhelming.

  The old lady must have read her thoughts. ‘What about your mum? Isn’t she around to help?’

  Her mum. Kate really should call her and check she was okay. She wouldn’t tell her she was in Paris. It would only worry her. ‘She used to but we… er… my dad. He passed away and I don’t like to… to…’ She started to cry again.

  ‘Oh you poor love.’ The old lady put her arms around Kate. ‘You’re having a right old time of it. Is your mum not coping very well?’

  Kate sniffed. ‘She’s great. She’s doing really well. Keeping herself busy, seeing her friends. I just don’t like to, you know, worry her. Or ask her to have the kids or anything. She has enough to deal with.’

  Two weeks after her dad’s first heart attack, Kate and her mum had been on their way home from afternoon visiting time when they’d received ‘that’ call from the hospital, asking them to come back as soon as they could. They drove back to the hospital in silence: a unique occurrence. When they got to the door of the ICU, the staff wouldn’t let them in. Something was happening and they told them they had to wait. They knew this wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  The other relatives waiting in the corridor did their best not to look at them as they wrapped their arms around each other. Distracted for a few moments from their own grief, guiltily grateful that it wasn’t them, the other people turned away or pretended to be studying the curling posters on the noticeboard. Kate’s mum had been so strong: ‘Whatever happens, we’ll get through this. Nothing will change. We’ll be okay.’ Whatever fear had been piercing her own heart, her first instinct had been to protect her daughter: even in her early forties, Kate was still her child and that was what mums do, wasn’t it?

  Kate’s mobile started to ring. She found it in her bag. Luke. She pressed the ‘cancel call’ button.

  The old lady moved her arm but gently rubbed Kate’s back. It felt so nice. ‘Have you actually asked your mum?’

  Kate frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  She kept rubbing. ‘Maybe she would like to be asked to have the children. If my daughter was struggling, I’d want her to come to me. I’m sure your mum feels the same.’

  ‘But she’s on her own. She’s just lost my dad and…’

  ‘And she’d probably like nothing more than to feel that you still need her. That her grandchildren want to spend time with her. That she still has an important part of her life to lead. I can see you mean well, love, but let your mum decide whether she can help you out or not. For her sake as well as yours. Oh, my husband’s back, must have changed his mind about the tour. You take care of yourself. And think about what I said.’ She squeezed Kate’s hand and left with a wave.

  Kate stayed where she was for a while longer, reluctant to leave this place behind. She watched as a tall, slim man sat down at the Steinway and arranged some sheet music. Would he play something?

  Kate didn’t usually open up to strangers like that. It was as if the old lady had been sent – like a fairy godmother – to speak to her. She made a lot of sense. Was she right about Kate’s mum? Should she speak to her about helping out with the kids again if she was ready? And what about Luke?

  She listened to the lengthy voicemail he’d left when she’d rejected his last call. ‘Hi, love. Your ringtone sounds funny. Hope you’re having a good day. Listen I, er… I know I said about getting a takeaway tonight but I’d forgotten, there’s a leaving do. One of the finance guys. Really should go and stick my head in at the pub. Shouldn’t be a late one. But you might want to go ahead and eat with the kids. Maybe we can get a takeaway tomorrow? Sorry. Love you.’

  Every muscle in Kate’s body was tight. Her shoulders were up to her ears. Yes, she did bloody mind, and it wasn’t the retracted offer of sodding chicken korma that was giving her the urge to throw her mobile across Saint Julien le Pauvre’s floor.

  It was just expected. That she would be there to feed the kids, bath them, put them to bed. There was no possible chance in the entire universe that she might have plans. That she might want to do something other than sing sodding ‘Wind the pissing bloody Bobbin Up’, wrestle two slippery eels around a bath tub and then lie down in a dark room barking ‘Go to sleep’ every four minutes until they gave in.

  Yes, she was a stay-at-home mum. But did that mean she had to stay at home every sodding night?

  She punched a message into her phone with an aggressive forefinger. I am not home. You need to collect the children from Nina by six p.m. And then she turned the phone off.

  Then she turned it back on again. Because you never knew when an emergency might happen.

  Into the hushed silence, the strains of Chopin’s Nocturnes reached out to her as the pianist began to play Serenity and Dream. Kate closed her eyes again. The haunting melody washed over her like cool water, its familiar notes in this place bringing something she had not had in a long time. Peace.

  T
he pianist stopped playing and she ached for him to begin again. He leafed through his sheet music. As he began Fantasie Dreams of Love, she took a deep breath and her chest expanded. Its romance filled her. Did she remember how it felt to fall in love? Hopeful, vulnerable, excited.

  A man leaned in front of her. ‘Hello again.’

  It took a moment to realise that he was the man who Shannon had spoken to in the café earlier. Dressed in casual clothes now, he looked very different than before. Younger, maybe. ‘Hi, sorry, I didn’t recognise you straight away. Graham? Is that right?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m finished for the day so I thought I’d lose the suit. I’m here to buy some concert tickets for next month – schmoozing an important client who loves classical music. How come you’re on your own?’

  ‘Shannon had to go back to work. Turns out when you surprise people they still have normal life to attend to. She has a business dinner to go to later.’

  Without missing a beat, Graham said, ‘That’s a shame. I’ll be going out to eat later if you want to come with me?’

  Kate panicked. What should she say? She didn’t even know this man; would it be appropriate for her to go to dinner with him? Worse, did he think she was hinting at him to invite her to dinner?

  Graham must have seen the fear in her face. ‘It’s fine if you want some time alone, just a thought.’

  Now she was really embarrassed. Anyway, he was married, it’s not like there was anything naughty going to happen. ‘Sorry, I was just surprised. What time were you planning to eat?’

  He shrugged. ‘Around eight?’ He took a card from his pocket and started to write on it. ‘There’s a really nice restaurant not far from here. I’ll write it down for you, with my number. I’ll meet you there at eight o’clock unless you text me to say otherwise.’

  Kate took the card from him. This wasn’t part of her plan. She had thought she’d be sitting with Shannon tonight, telling her all her woes. Instead, she would be eating with a man she’d only just met, in what sounded like a rather expensive restaurant. She should just say no. ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘Hopefully see you later.’ Graham nodded and left.

  Kate felt the hot prickle of nerves on her skin. What had she just agreed to? Maybe she should text Shannon and see what she thought? She knew this man. This could be perfectly normal and Kate was completely overthinking it. Or Luke. Should she ask Luke? She shook her head. No. She didn’t need to ask his permission. If Luke could go out whenever he wanted with whoever he wanted, then why the hell couldn’t she?

  And it wasn’t as if this was the first time recently she had been out with a man without telling him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shannon

  Between the office and the hotel, Shannon had had two more calls from the US. The code was from Chicago. It had to be Adam. But why the hell was he so desperate to get hold of her?

  The company used this hotel for a lot of off-site meetings, so the staff here knew her well. The sales team plus Robert and herself made eight people; there should be plenty of space in one of the smaller conference rooms. Still, it was important to check everything they might want was there. Water, snacks, paper, pens, projector, screen. It was good of the corporate hospitality team to let her have the room this afternoon. This way she could be certain that everything was ready for tomorrow. Ordered to perfection. If only the rest of her life was so easy to organise.

  The meeting room was light and airy with windows on two sides. Sadly, the furniture was functional rather than beautiful, but she’d asked for the desks to be laid out in a rectangle so that they could at least all see each other. The blinds would need to be closed tomorrow, otherwise it’d be too bright to read the projector screen. At least the green décor was nice and peaceful; those poor sales managers were going to need every ounce of help they could get to counteract the stress of presenting their sales figures to Robert. The soft side she saw to him was rarely in evidence in a meeting room; if things didn’t go his way, he was intransigent and cold. She’d been a witness to him terminating more than one contract and he had been icy. Her stomach lurched. This time, it wasn’t morning sickness.

  Just keep busy. Working her way around the rectangle of desks, she laid a pad of hotel branded paper and a pen in front of each seat. Then she did the same rotation with water glasses. Symmetry and order was so soothing. Despite the amount of work necessary to organise a sales conference – the hotel rooms, the food, the entertainment, the equipment – it was one of the most satisfying parts of her work. Maybe she should change to a career in hospitality. Could you do that with a baby strapped to you?

  Shannon stood back and frowned. She’d laid out too many places. The sales manager from Belgium wasn’t going to be there – that’s why she had been able to give Kate his room. Though she’d told the others that he couldn’t make it, he was one of the ones she’d seen fired. It was a tough time for the business. It was a tough time all round. That’s why she needed to be make sure everything went smoothly; those sales guys didn’t need Robert in a bad mood before they started. She could live without it, too.

  It had been lovely to see Kate. Just seeing her face had made Shannon want to tell her absolutely everything, so they could thrash it all out together. That’s what they would have done in the old days. Got a bottle of wine – or two – and sorted out whatever was bothering them. Any date who hadn’t called back was a loser, any woman who had been rude was a bitch, any boss who had passed them over for a raise was an absolute imbecile. One time there had been a particularly unpleasant manager who’d made a point of singling out Kate when he was in a bad mood. Shannon had put a sign on his phallus of a sports car which read:

  For Sale – £250 for cash. Ask for Jack.

  By the time he’d got back from lunch, he’d had a queue of about twelve people waiting to see him, some of whom were really angry because they’d waited over half an hour. She’d had Kate’s back and Kate had had hers. Always.

  She walked around the table again, putting a hotel branded paper coaster under each glass, which she turned upside down.

  It was all Shannon’s fault they had lost touch. She was the single one with no childcare to arrange, so she should have made more effort. Gone down to visit Kate more often. Been a better friend.

  It wasn’t even the first time she’d let this happen. When other friends of hers had had children, they’d got busy with their own lives. They’d got new friends. Friends with babies. Then they’d sat around and talked about baby things and went to places that babies liked. Shannon had had nothing to bring to the party, so it had been easier to just fade away, leave them to it. But this was Kate. Her lovely, funny friend. She should have tried harder.

  Air conditioning. Must check it was functioning properly. There had been one conference when the room had got so hot, one of the young men from the US office had almost passed out. That had done wonders for Robert’s fierce reputation. She turned the dial until it clicked and heard the fans start to whirr. It was fine.

  Standing at one end of the table, she tapped her fingernails on its top and looked around. Everything in the room was exactly as it should be. Now she needed to find something else to do with herself. Walking slowly around the table, she straightened the pens and pencils so that they were exactly parallel to the notepads. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t she just relax?

  It was those damn emails from Adam. And the missed phone calls. Why was he doing this now? They’d had a deal. Shannon would stay out of his life and he would stay out of hers. It was better for everybody that way. He was on a different continent, for goodness’ sake. How difficult would it be for him to just forget about her? She had done her damned hardest to forget about him.

  And then there was Robert’s Veronique. Turning twenty. Having a huge party to celebrate. Why couldn’t she just do what Shannon had done on her twenty-first and dance on the counter in a bar surrounded by work colleagues she had only recently met? Although, Veronique may want
to avoid sleeping with the barman. From hazy memory, that particular encounter had not been the best way for Shannon to start her metaphorical adulthood. She’d definitely wanted to be as far away from her relatives as she could possibly be, though – surely Robert’s daughter must be having this family party under protest? And she certainly wouldn’t want Shannon there. What would Robert introduce her as? His colleague? Sexual liaison? Girlfriend? Partner? How excruciating. Worse still, she’d have to do the whole thing sober.

  Shannon slid down onto one of the chairs, put her elbows on the table and let her face fall into her hands. The baby. At some point she was going to need to give this some serious consideration. There was her job, for a start. Would she be able to hold onto any kind of career if she had this child? Right now, her hours were pretty unsociable, because of the time difference to the US head office. And it wasn’t as if she had family around the corner to help. There must be French nurseries she could use in the daytime, but she was out in the evening with clients quite frequently too. She could just picture the look on a CEO’s face if she rocked up to an evening reception in high heels and a baby carrier thingy. She’d mixed business and pleasure for the last year, but business and babies was a whole other thing.

  And what was Robert going to say when she told him? This had never been part of their plan. They hadn’t even had a plan. According to Fabienne, Robert had dated a lot of women after he split from his wife. None of them had lasted more than a few dates. When Shannon and Robert got together, it had not been supposed to be anything serious. Shannon didn’t tend to stay in a job – sometimes not even in a country – for more than two or three years. She wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. A partner. A future. She had assumed Robert felt the same. But now, here he was, piling on the pressure for her to meet his family.