‘Huh?’
‘Do you know how many years I’ve looked forward to visiting a Disney park?’
‘Look, Gemma – sorry, but I found it terribly hard to relate. I knew none of the characters, so chatting to them felt… uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad I went. The park was impressive. Star Tours was an incredibly realistic ride. But the day didn’t inspire me, like…’
‘Like, say, Monique’s play Le Malade Imaginaire? Well, do you think that opera trip I went on last autumn kept me spellbound?’ I muttered. ‘No – but I didn’t let on because I wanted you to enjoy the night.’
‘Gem…’ He turned to face me, and held both my hands. ‘Just because you’ve taken umbrage with Moni, for some reason, doesn’t mean I feel the same.’
‘You’ve fallen for her womanly wiles,’ I said, in a tight voice. ‘She’s trouble.’
He let go of my hands. ‘Why are you being so mean-spirited? It’s not like the Gemma I know. Anyway, from the start of this trip you’ve made it clear that we’re not fixed at the hip.’
‘What do you mean?’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘We hadn’t been here a day when you disappeared on some catering jolly. Did I complain that on our first weekend in one of the most romantic cities in the world, I’d been stranded? No. Yet you become frosty when I suggest going off for just one day to look after a friend.’
‘I… I really wanted to spend that first weekend with you,’ I stuttered. ‘It’s just…’ I swallowed and wished, not for the first time, that I could tell him about Joe. ‘And I’m not mean-spirited. Monique was the one who used every opportunity to put me down at lunch, yesterday. Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring out of the window, Edward, when I was being asked about archery, in that bar – clearly you were embarrassed.’
‘For God’s sake, Gemma, stop being so paranoid – I was trying not to laugh. I’ve seen you try to play snooker – like me, you’re not the best with a cue and the thought of you trying to hit a target with an arrow tickled my sense of humour.’ He shook his head. ‘What is this about? Does Moni… I don’t know – intimidate you?’
‘Don’t think so – remember I mix with all your aristocratic friends and I’ve always held my own,’ I said, a bit too strongly.
‘Exactly! So what’s the problem?’
My lip quivered. I couldn’t own up to my true, insecure feelings – they might plant a seed of doubt in Edward’s mind, about how I compared to the conniving French woman.
‘Maybe you think I should be in awe of your new best mate. After all, she shares all of your intellectual interests and moves in very impressive artistic circles.’
‘That’s nonsensical! Look…’ He gave a sigh. ‘I just like her – the way we chat.’
‘You said how she reminds you of your mum…’ Nausea backed up my throat as I realised that meant Monique had a very special bond with my boyfriend. ‘She’ll exploit that, Edward. She’s devious.’
‘Not like you then?’ His voice hardened.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve been trying to persuade myself that I imagined it, but it’s no good… Last night. I was shocked. I saw you stick out your foot, like a mischievous child, to make Moni fall.’
My heart skipped a beat. ‘But… no… you see…’ My voice faltered. ‘I didn’t, Edward.’
A flicker of disgust crossed his face. I knew how much he couldn’t bear lies.
‘Okay. I admit it. But it was just a fleeting thought – I would never have gone through with it. I quickly took my foot straight back. Monique must have slipped on the water.’
Edward snorted. ‘Moni told me she definitely tripped over something – in fact she half-jokingly suggested it was your foot and that’s without me mentioning your ill-intended manoeuvre.’
What a lying, conniving… Okay. So, I’d thought about it – but there was no way Monique could have seen my foot and I definitely pulled it back in time. Her intention must have been to make that up anyway. ‘She’s lying!’ I said. ‘Or do you believe her word over mine?’
‘I know what I saw,’ he spoke in a measured voice.
‘Look… you know I hate spiders, but do I kill them? No, I put them outside. I wouldn’t even stamp on ants.’
‘Now you’re comparing her to an insect?’ Edward shook his head. ‘Sometimes, you really do sound juvenile.’
He got up and went to the kitchen whilst I stood statue still, jaw almost on the floor.
‘Maybe Monique’s more suited to you then – in age and everything else.’ My voice wavered. ‘Go on, just admit it – you’ve only known her a week, but realise you’ve made a terrible mistake proposing to me…’
‘I’m not listening to this ranting,’ he said and threw down a tea towel. He grabbed his coat. ‘Anyway, why are you so fussed? It’s not like you’re keen to accept an offer of marriage – unlike that thrilled woman in the pub yesterday. If anything, it’s you who’s been having second thoughts and making excuses.’
‘No! Not second thoughts about you! Never! But marriage…Why the hurry?’
‘Why the delay?’ he shot back.
‘Perhaps I’m learning to rein in my spontaneity and think things through…’ I said.
‘Don’t be a hypocrite! We’d only been in Paris five minutes and you accepted some offer to work for a stranger.’ Edward picked up his laptop. ‘Not that your disappearing act bothered me greatly – not until today, when you’ve grilled me for wanting just a few hours away. Isn’t a relationship supposed to be about give and take?’
‘So, I’m a liar and a hypocrite…’ Ouch. ‘You know, I thought things would get easier once I realised the class difference between us didn’t matter a jot. Yet, you don’t like my telly programmes, I don’t dig your music. We both love reading but not the same genres. I might have helped you develop a penchant for fast food, and thanks to you I’ll now love fresh prawns and crab but food apart…’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘But perhaps, the only real common ground we’ve had is saving Applebridge Hall. It’s as if this trip to Paris has already super-sized our differences – which seem to be just about everything else.’
‘I’m not listening to this nonsense,’ he said. ‘This conversation is getting us nowhere.’
‘Don’t do that – don’t turn back to the stuffy old Edward I met, right at the beginning of Million Dollar Mansion.’
‘What, the one you accused of never having fun?’ He shrugged. ‘No doubt you think that again, since I couldn’t properly enjoy Disneyland.’
We stared at each other, for a few seconds.
‘Gemma… Look, it’s probably best if I spend the night elsewhere. That’ll give us both time to cool off. I’m sure Moni won’t mind me sleeping on her sofa. If not, I’ll book into a hotel.’ A muscle flinched in his cheek. ‘I’m sorry you doubt our future together.’
But I hardly heard his last sentence. ‘You? Sleep at Monique’s?’ Uh oh, I had a feeling I was about to blurt out something offensive… All the insecurities of the last few days had built up and had chosen this moment to let rip. No need to tell me that, really, I should have indeed cooled off, over night, and then rationally talked through my feelings with him. But it was hard, after the recent months, when occasionally some journalist or fan would scoff at our relationship; would sneer that Gemma Goodwin was in no way an intellectual match for Lord Edward – that our romance was a show-mance, and would never last. On the surface I’d laugh and Edward would get angry. But the seed of doubt had been planted and now I couldn’t face discussing whether these critics had been right all along – just in case I got the vibe that Edward agreed with them, and was beginning to change his mind.
‘If you spend the night at that conniving bitch’s flat then don’t bother ever coming back!’
‘Are you serious?’ Edward’s lush mouth tightened.
Oh dear. I’ve got myself in deeper than I thought.
‘You’re being ridiculous, Gemma.’ He strode towards
the door.
‘So now I’m also ridiculous… Any other insults you want to throw at me, before you head off to lover girl? I mean it! Go to her tonight and… and… we’re over.’
His eyes widened for several moments and then he pursed those crazily kissable lips.
‘I’m disappointed that you can end our relationship in so few minutes – with so few words,’ he said. ‘However, I won’t be blackmailed into staying here tonight, Gemma. Not when a friend needs help. And if you’re not generous enough to want to assist Moni, then perhaps your decision is for the best and you’re not the kind-hearted woman I thought you were.’
With that, he left and even that action highlighted the differences between us. I would have slammed the door, whereas Edward just closed it slowly behind him.
Chapter 9
‘Why ze long face, Pudding?’ snapped chef JC. ‘I know it is a Monday morning, but your chin is so low you could use that to knead the dough, instead of your hands. Enough now! It is time to concentrate.’
My eyes tingled and Cindy shot me a sympathetic glance. She wore a small pair of sparkly Little Mermaid earrings bought yesterday, in the Disney park.
I swallowed hard and worked the dough firmly, making thumping noises against the bread board.
‘Merde alors, come with me into ze pantry,’ JC commanded and wiped his chunky fingers on a nearby tea towel.
I cleaned my hand of sticky dough and followed him into the storeroom which housed everything imaginable, from basic flour and oil to hot pepper jelly and pickled mussels. JC pulled off his chef hat, to reveal unruly copper hair, streaked with grey.
‘What’s ze problem, Pudding? I will not have your mood affect the morale of the team.’
‘Me affect their morale?’ I spluttered. Didn’t he realise most of his staff tippy-toed around him, in dread?
JC folded his arms but behind those sharp eyes a warmth glowed.
‘Edward. Me. We’ve…’ My voice trembled. ‘… split up. Last night.’ God, those words sounded final. Lady C and the Earl, Kathleen the cook… everyone back at Applebridge Hall was in for a huge shock.
JC snorted in disgust. ‘Sacre bleu! Not problems of ze heart…’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But like any good pudding, you will rise above it, non?’
I gave a wry smile.
For a moment he stared, then reached behind a jar of preserved dates, on a nearby shelf. He pulled out a small bag. ‘France makes ze best, pure chocolate. According to French law, one may not add vegetable or animal fat.’ JC opened the bag and offered me a thick chocolate button, avoiding my eye. ‘Veree expensive eet ees, made from Madagascan beans… Just take one.’ He coughed. ‘And then back to work immédiatement!’
‘For Christmas, Edward bought me membership to a chocolate-tasting club,’ I said (not needing this reminder that Edward was indeed the most perfect boyfriend ever). ‘The first taste tray arrived a few weeks ago – I tried chocolate with cumin, balsamic vinegar, even lavender.’
‘And ze best?’
‘You know what? None of those. I like it plain. Dark. Bitter.’
JC bowed. ‘A woman after my own heart. Chocolate should not be messed with. In its purest form, it should be listed as one of the wonders of the modern world.’
I grabbed one of the fancy buttons and smelt it before putting it in my mouth.
‘Excellent,’ muttered JC, as he caught my eye. ‘That sniff is ze sign of a good chef. Aroma is paramount.’ He popped a button in his mouth. ‘Now, vamoose. No chef becomes good without hours of hard work. And at the end of your afternoon shift I want you to scrub the kitchen floor ‘til eet is shinier than Hugo’s shoes. And then…It would please me if you came back in tonight. You can be my close righthand man – or rather, woman. After service and under my close supervision, you can have a go at making a couple of the dishes. It will be a late night but…’
Wow. What an honour – personal training from the head chef.
Feeling perkier than I had done all morning, I put another circle of chocolate in my mouth, before heading back into the steamy kitchen. Mmm, what a smooth, creamy texture – and then pow! That fierce smack of dark chocolate ignited the back of my throat. Instantly I felt a burst of energy and began, once again, to pound the dough, imagining it was Edward. Except I couldn’t stay angry for long and the movements soon morphed into me pretending to massage his back. If physical attraction was the only thing a relationship needed, then we’d have had no problems and could have stuck together as long as my favourite, immortal vampires.
The kitchen doors swung open and Edward walked in, curly blonde fringe almost hiding those sincere blue eyes. My heart skipped a beat.
‘I’m about to take my break but Pierre asked me to see if you needed any help in here first – due to the special booking at lunchtime,’ he said.
‘Waiters are not chefs,’ barked JC, ‘especially when we are expecting important guests.’
A table for one p.m. sharp had been booked by representatives from the League of Nations, which, I remembered from school, was formed at the end of the First World War. As part of the commemorative centenary events, they were touring Parisian high schools to talk of their work nowadays.
‘Pudding, take your break now,’ said JC, without looking in my direction. ‘I need you later. Go! Whilst it is quiet.’
‘But…’
‘Maintenant!’ he said and without further ado, I washed my hands and followed Edward into the restaurant. If I didn’t know better, I’d have accused JC of purposely throwing me and my Ex – *sob*, hated that word – together. In silence, we each made ourselves a coffee and sat down at the corner table, reserved for staff on a quick break.
Edward half-smiled. ‘Pierre has gone to a lot of trouble for this lunch. His grandfather was a First World War hero. He’s clearly very proud of him.’
Not daring to speak, in case my voice wobbled, I raised one eyebrow.
‘Louis – that was his name – lied about his age and joined up at only sixteen. Eventually he became a tunneller. One day the tunnel he was working on got bombed and Louis made sure everyone else got out before him. When he finally emerged above ground the German infantry was within shooting distance. He was killed instantly. Having wed his childhood sweetheart at eighteen, whilst home on leave, he never received her letter telling him he was to be a father. It arrived a week after he died.’
‘That’s terrible,’ I muttered.
Edward nodded and we both sipped our drinks. ‘Look, um, I’ll pick my things up after work.’
‘But where will you stay?’
‘Moni will put me up for as long as I want.’
I felt sick. Surely, Edward wasn’t already moving on? Although under different circumstances, part of me could have chuckled. If nothing else, I’d certainly given Edward the gift of spontaneity, since our time together. When I first met him, his life was as orderly as his military-standard polished shoes. Appointments. Expectations. Appearances mattered. The Edward of old would have never suddenly crashed at someone’s flat. No, he’d have needed a hotel with a laundry service, trouser press and proper mattress.
‘How accommodating of her,’ I muttered.
The light left Edward’s eyes. ‘Yes, Monique’s been very accommodating, under the circumstances. She waited on me hand and foot last night, insisting I have her best red wine and constantly topping up my glass – despite the fact she was injured.’
‘Now she’s really getting her claws into you.’ I shook my head. ‘Honestly, Edward, open your eyes.’
‘Please don’t speak about her in those terms,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘I was hoping we could stay friends.’
‘How quickly you’re defending her against me.’
‘Look… this isn’t a battle…’ He sighed. ‘Gem…. Why don’t I make us dinner this evening? We can talk.’
No. Whilst I shouldn’t have given Edward an ultimatum last night, I’d thought all through the early hours and concluded our split really was for
the best. In any case…
‘JC – he’s offered to give me a personal cookery lesson tonight. You know what he’s like – he’ll never make another offer like that and –’
Edward’s cheeks flushed. ‘So just like the first weekend here, when you left me standing, I come second again tonight?’
‘No! It’s just…’ The pit of my stomach squeezed.
‘Forget it, Gemma. Your heart’s not in it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t want to believe it, but perhaps Moni is right.’
‘About what?’
‘She says you are young – have a career to forge that requires a degree of independence… that it wouldn’t be fair of me to hold you back.’
‘Edward!’ I shook my head. ‘Can’t you see what that bitch is doing?’
‘That “bitch”…’ he grimaced at the word, ‘… is thinking of you.’ Edward pushed away his cup.
‘Well, for your – and her – information, my supposed career and plans to cook my way around the world, have nothing to do with our fall-out. No, our problem is, clearly, that I gel with someone like down-to-earth Cindy, whilst you are in awe of highfalutin Monique. It was obvious you hated Disneyland.’
‘Hate is a strong word.’ He shrugged. ‘Surely differences regarding our hobbies don’t matter? Not if the initial spark is there – just look at cousin Abbey and Zak.’
‘Yeah, but she’s been to college and Zak’s been to uni. Intellectually, they’re on the same page. Whereas us… me…’
‘But she’s the daughter of a wealthy catering magnate…’ he continued. ‘Zak does charity voluntary work. Abbey is partial to smart clothes, whereas he’d be happy wearing a potato sack. But they’ve made it work and I don’t think that’s just down to both of them passing exams. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he was my brother-in-law.’
‘Perhaps Abbey and Zak’s relationship is an exception,’ I interrupted, my thoughts since last night having turned to Auntie Jan. ‘Over the years I’ve watched my aunt split up from boyfriend after boyfriend because, most of the time, they were so ill-matched… One went poaching – she hates cruelty to animals. Another ate no carbs and loved canals whereas she lives for bread and gets seasick. Dad and me could always tell when one of her relationships wasn’t going to work out, but Auntie Jan would put her blinkers on.’
From Paris With Love Page 9
