Fiona knew when she was beaten. “Okay,” she said sulkily.
39
Ashling had planned a full day for her mother and sister. Firstly they were taking the tourist bus around all the famous sites then they were going up the Eiffel Tower. She was pleased to be so au fait with the city and couldn’t resist showing off her French a little. She took them to a lovely bistro overlooking the Seine for lunch where her baby-sitter, Nicole, met them and took a tired Orna and Ciara home for the afternoon. Then she took her mother and Fiona shopping on Boulevard Haussmann which they thoroughly enjoyed.
She had invited Felicity, Max, Jazz and Hugh to dinner that evening to meet her family. She would like to have invited Sophie and Yves but with Jazz coming, it was out of the question. It had made things rather difficult for everyone.
They all had a great night and everyone got on famously. Her mother was very taken with Felicity and they spent the evening exchanging recipes and talking about cooking. Fiona thought Jazz was cool but it was Hugh who really took her fancy. They got on like a house on fire and spent the evening discussing the latest bands and TV shows.
“I adore Paris. You’re sooo lucky to be living here. I’m definitely coming over to live with Ashling when I finish my exams in May,” she told him, her eyes shining.
“That will be fantastic,” he replied. “I’ll introduce you to all my gang. They’re great craic. You’ll love them.”
She laughed at his use of the Irish expression. He thought she looked so very pretty with her golden curls dancing and her emerald-green eyes sparkling. She was such fun. All his friends would adore her.
“Hey, maybe you’d like to meet them tomorrow. We’re going down the Seine in a boat for lunch at my friend’s bar. I’d really love you to come.”
“That’d be brilliant. I’ll have to check with Ashling but I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“I’ve got an even better idea. I’m meeting up with them after I leave here and we’re going on to a club. Why don’t you come and I’ll show you a bit of Paris nightlife?” He flashed his boyish sunny smile.
She would have followed him to hell and back if he’d asked her.
“Cool,” she said, thrilled with the idea. “But what about Jazz?”
“Nah, she wouldn’t come. She won’t mind. There’s no romance between us, we’re just good friends.”
“Okay so,” she grinned at him, happy to hear that.
Fiona went into the kitchen to find her sister there with Jazz. They were dishing up dessert.
“Ash, is it okay if I go out with Hugh to a club after dinner? He wants me to meet his friends.” Fiona was practically jumping for joy. “And tomorrow he wants me to go on a boat down the Seine to his friend’s bar for lunch. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” Ashling replied, laughing at her sister’s enthusiasm.
“Is that alright with you, Jazz? Maybe you’d like to come too.” Fiona looked at her earnestly.
“No way! I’m much too old for clubbing. You go, girl, you’ll have a great time,” Jazz grinned at her.
“Thanks, and thanks, sis,” Fiona said, giving Ashling a kiss and blowing one to Jazz before she bounced out to give Hugh the good news.
“They’re great together,” Jazz remarked. “I’d really like Hugh to meet someone special. He’s a fantastic guy and he deserves it. Maybe Fiona is that someone.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Ashling agreed. “I really like him too.”
Jazz stayed on after the others had gone and sat chatting with Ashling’s mother while Ashling went to check on the girls.
“I hope you don’t mind that Fiona went off with Hugh,” Ashling’s mother, Nora, said to Jazz. She was a little concerned as they had arrived together.
“Not at all,” Jazz assured her. “Hugh and I are just friends. I find weekends very lonely and he kindly lets me tag along with his friends. They’re all much younger than me.” She smiled ruefully.
“Don’t you have anyone special?” Nora asked gently.
“Indeed I do,” Jazz told her, “but unfortunately, he’s married to someone else.” She didn’t know what made her reveal this to a practical stranger and a woman old enough to be her mother at that, but somehow Nora had that same trait as Ashling which made you want to confide in her.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Nora said with sympathy. “Do you love him?”
Ashling had returned to the room in time to hear this and Jazz’s heartfelt reply.
“Desperately. I can’t bear a moment I’m away from him.”
“Does he love you?” Nora asked.
“I don’t know if he loves me,” said Jazz, sounding like a forlorn little girl.
“Do you have any future together?” Nora wanted to know.
“I don’t know if he’d leave his wife for me. They have a son, you see.” She looked so downcast that Ashling’s heart went out to her.
“Oh, dear,” said Nora. “That does rather complicate things.”
Ashling poured them all some more wine and sat down beside Jazz, taking her hand. Jazz smiled wanly at her.
“It’s so awful when there are children involved,” Nora said. “I hate to sound negative, my dear, but these things rarely work out and I’m afraid you’re the one who will get hurt in the end. I know,” she added, sadly, “I was in that position once and my heart was broken.”
Ashling looked at her mother, shocked to hear this. It was the first she’d ever heard of it.
“But you and Dad –”
“Oh, yes. Hearts heal, you know. I met your father two years after that and have been happy with him ever since.” She smiled at the two girls. “Best thing I ever did. It would never have worked out with the other man. I realised afterwards it was just passion and I’d have felt guilty forever after if he’d left his family for me.”
Ashling looked at her with shock. She’d never considered her mother as the passionate type. She was so down to earth. Well, well!
Jazz looked at her wretchedly. She knew Nora was right. She couldn’t think past the passion that enveloped her when she was with Yves. It was like a drug. But she also knew that passion cools and as for Sophie and her little son, well, she couldn’t even dare to go there.
She left them with a heavy heart, missing Yves more than anything and feeling more miserable than ever.
Fiona had never enjoyed herself so much. She had a brilliant time with Hugh’s friends and they went clubbing till two in the morning. They were so friendly and welcoming and such free spirits. Hugh had been very attentive to her and she fancied him like mad. She suspected he felt the same way about her.
On Sunday, after Fiona left with Hugh, Ashling took her mother to the local market where Nora exclaimed at all the wonderful fruit and vegetables on offer. Everything was so fresh and much cheaper than in Dublin. She bought some lovely scarves with scenes of Paris on them for her sisters and snow-globes for the girls with the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe inside. Orna and Ciara were fascinated by them and shook them non-stop all through lunch in Les Deux Magots.
Remy was delighted to see Ashling with her family and made a big fuss over her mother and the girls.
“My God, you’re like a local here,” Nora said, pleased with all the attention.
“Well, I do come here three days a week.”
“Why so often?” Nora asked.
“Well, I come here to write,” Ashling told her mother. “I’ve started writing a novel and it’s going really well.” She blushed as her mother beamed at her, delighted with this news. “Please don’t say a word to anybody. I haven’t told Kieran yet.”
“Why not?” Nora was puzzled.
“To be honest, I hardly see him and when I do he’s exhausted and is just not interested in my life.” Ashling couldn’t keep the resentment out of her voice.
“Is he still working as much as ever?”
“Even more, if anything. He rarely sees the girls, especially now that he goes to see hi
s mother every weekend.”
“That’s a shame. He really needs to get his priorities sorted.” Her mother couldn’t help but criticise him. “Before he knows it the girls will be grown up.”
“I know but I can’t get that through to him. He says he’s doing it for us but, honestly, if he’s not careful there will be no ‘us’,” Ashling said bitterly.
Nora was very worried and wished Kieran would realise just what he had.
After lunch they walked into the Luxembourg Gardens where the girls played in the playground as the two women chatted. Before they left, Ashling brought her mother to see the bridge players in the park. To her surprise, Corey was seated playing with them.
The two girls ran up to him and he hugged them warmly.
“Who’s that?” Ashling’s mother asked her.
“He’s a writer that I meet often in the café where we had lunch,” she replied, blushing as she spoke.
“Oh?” Nora raised her eyebrows.
He came over to them and kissed Ashling on both cheeks.
“Corey, I’d like you to meet my mother, Nora.”
“Another beautiful Irish colleen,” he said, his dazzling smile creasing his face.
He took Nora’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Enchanté, Madame.”
Ashling could see that her mother was utterly charmed by him.
“What do you say that we take Grandma to have some ice cream?” he asked the girls.
“Yes, please, Corey,” they squealed, dancing around him.
“I’d love that,” Nora smiled at him. “Just what I need right now.”
Ashling knew when she was beaten. “Go on then. You’re a terror,” she laughed at him.
They walked to the Île de la Cité and this time they went into a café to order the delicious Berthillon ice cream.
They had a great time and Corey kept them amused with his storytelling and jokes.
“Your daughter is a talented writer, you know, Nora,” he remarked, smiling at Ashling who blushed again.
Nora had never seen her daughter blush so much. She was sure there was nothing going on between them but it was obvious that Corey was enchanted by Ashling. She wondered if Ashling was aware of this. Probably not. She figured that Kieran would want to get his act together, and fast, if he wanted to hold on to his wife. Nora sighed. Life was so complicated. She would definitely not like to be young again.
When Brandon met Jazz on Sunday morning he barely recognised her. She was wearing cropped denims with a simple white T-shirt and flat ballet pumps. He thought she looked about twenty, with her hair in a pony-tail and her face glowing and make-up free. She was nothing like the suave businesswoman, nor the glamorous party-goer that he knew. He liked her like this – natural-looking and fresh.
“Sensible girl,” he said pointing to her flat shoes.
“I’m not so stupid as to wear heels to a museum,” she replied, wondering if he’d expected that from her. “How’s Taylor? Have you spoken to her?”
“No, Bob says that she is to be totally cut off from the outside world. No visitors – no phone calls.”
“That seems a bit harsh.”
“I thought so too, but he assures me it’s the best way. I have to take his word for it that they know what they’re doing.”
“I suppose,” she replied, but she didn’t sound convinced. “God, it must be awful for her.”
He sighed. “No doubt, but she did bring it on herself. And she absolutely has to be weaned off all that stuff or she’ll kill herself.” He sounded sad.
“Well, let’s get this culture trip on the road,” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
The hours flew by as they walked from room to room, admiring all the marvellous paintings they’d only ever read about. Away from the work environment they were relaxed and happy in each other’s company and got on amazingly well.
There was something to be said for being with a woman when there was no sexual relationship between them, thought Brandon. She was great company and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He could see that she was equally relaxed with him. He noticed the envious glances of other men as he squired her around the Louvre. If only they knew, he chuckled to himself. To his amazement she was amazingly well informed about art.
“You’re full of surprises,” he said as they took a break for coffee.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she laughed back at him, teasingly.
“I’ll bet,” he said, throwing back his head and roaring with laughter.
Exhausted, they called it a day at four thirty and went to a local café where Brandon ordered a bottle of red wine and some cheese. He had enjoyed his day with her so much that he didn’t want it to end.
“Are you busy this evening?” he asked her. “If not, I’d really like to take you out to dinner, to show my thanks.”
“I’ve got a better idea. I love to cook and I brought some choucroute back from home with me. Why don’t you let me cook you a real Bavarian meal?”
“It’s a deal! I love choucroute. I’ve had it before in Alsace.”
“Well, you’ve tasted nothing like the one we have in Bavaria. It’s the best,” she said proudly.
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
“Ours has cabbage marinaded for weeks in Riesling wine, as well as smoked bacon, ham hock, bratwurst sausage, smoked sausage, potatoes and –”
“Stop it, you’re killing me! I can’t wait,” Brandon cried, almost able to taste it. “I take it’s a date then,” she said coquettishly, before she started laughing.
Fiona reckoned she’d just had the best day of her life. Hugh had collected her at midday and they had sailed down the Seine to meet up with his friends again, for lunch. It was so romantic. What a life! She couldn’t wait until she would be finished studying and living in this fabulous city.
It had been a wonderful day. They sailed home that evening, Hugh standing with his arms around her waist as they admired the Paris skyline. She was blissfully happy and dreaded having to return to Dublin the following day.
He nuzzled her neck and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn around and kiss him. She was in heaven.
“Will you come back again soon?” he whispered huskily.
“If you’d like me too,” she replied breathlessly.
“Of course, I would. I really like you . . . a lot.” He kissed her again.
Fiona thought she’d died and gone to heaven. She’d had a few romances in the past but nothing like this. She was a virgin, unlike most of her friends, and she’d always wanted the first time to be with someone special. From the way she was feeling about him, she guessed Hugh was that someone. She’d never believed in love at first sight but now within twenty-fours of meeting him, she knew she was falling in love. She hated having to leave him but, as he said goodnight, he promised that he’d keep in touch.
Brandon arrived at the address Jazz had given him and looked around the cosy apartment as she put the Alsace Riesling wine he’d brought in the fridge.
“Thank you. It’s the perfect wine for my choucroute. You are a connoisseur,” she grinned at him.
“Not really. The guy in the wine shop told me what to buy,” he admitted sheepishly.
“You are too honest,” she said, liking his modesty.
She opened a bottle of champagne and he noted that she had changed for the evening. She was now wearing a short white floaty dress with white sandals and her hair, which fell in dark curls on her shoulders, had a white camellia pinned in it. He thought she looked like a nymph or an ethereal fairy. They took their glasses out to the terrace and he was enchanted by the view of the Seine from there.
“What a wonderful apartment you have here. I’d love to live in an old place like this – and the view – it’s spectacular,” he said, waving his arm around. He found it mesmerising and could just imagine himself sitting out here every evening with a whisky. It would certainly de-stress the most stressed-out businessman in th
e world.
“Did Sophie find this for you?” he asked.
“Yes. I told her exactly what I wanted, and where, and she came up with this perfect place.”
“How did you know what you wanted?” he asked her, curious as to how she could have known.
“Well, I spent a year in Paris when I was twenty-one and I have fond memories of the Île Saint-Louis,” she told him, blushing.
Fascinated, he took a guess. “Memories of a lover?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking at her quizzically.
“It’s a long story.” She was blushing furiously now.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all the time in the world.” He was teasing her now and dying to hear all about it. He wouldn’t let her off the hook and before she knew it she was telling him all about her affair with Yves, fifteen years previously.
He listened in silence, shocked at what she was telling him.
“Are you sure he doesn’t remember you?” he asked, finding it hard to believe.
“Quite sure,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears. Embarrassed, she went to get more champagne.
What a cad, Brandon thought, cold fury building inside him. Yves was despicable and now here he was playing with her feelings once again.
“Do you think it’s wise getting involved with him again?” he asked gently as she poured more champagne.
“Of course not,” she replied, her eyes sad. “But I can’t help it. He’s like an addiction and I can’t pull myself away.”
Brandon wanted to clobber Yves there and then. How dare he trifle with her affections like that! He felt like telling him exactly what he thought of him.
“Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” she begged him, worried that he might approach Yves. “Please, Brandon? I’ll never forgive you if you say anything. I told you in confidence, as my friend.” Her eyes were pleading. “Promise me?”
“Okay,” he said, against his will. As she went to serve up dinner, he ruminated on what a bastard Yves was. To think he doesn’t even know that he was with her before, he thought bitterly. Just how many women has he had? I wouldn’t even hazard a guess.
A Year Like No Other Page 22
