From Paris With Love

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘In fact, Gemma, look, there really is something I ought to tell you that might finally change your mind about us …’

  My eyes tingled. Oh my God. At last, evidence that Edward hadn’t moved on, quite as easily as I thought. The irony was, just lately I’d realised that in love-rival terms, Monique was less of a threat. We each had our own strengths. Yet as much as I still longed for Edward to hold me in his arms and declare undying love, I had to keep my head on. I couldn’t risk my heart being broken in the future. Nothing changed the fact that Edward and I had as much in common as Prince William and the pop star Will.i.am – as Auntie Jan and all her ex-boyfriends. ‘Don’t bother,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Nothing will make a difference. Please accept my decision. Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.’

  Edward lifted his hands in the air. ‘We’re back in England within days and you won’t give us one last chance?’

  I had to bite my lip at the clearest indication yet, that he still missed me – still reckoned we had a future. But I was no Auntie Jan. I had to be strong.

  ‘No. You can give me the most convincing examples of opposites attracting, but it won’t change my opinion,’ I said in the firmest voice possible. ‘I’ve come to realise – you and me, we are equals, but in too many different ways. We have passion for different interests and a determination to achieve different things…’ I swallowed. ‘Please. Let it lie, Edward. We’ve got the farewell party Pierre is throwing for us Sunday afternoon. And then I’ll… I’ll let you know of my plans – arrange to pick up my stuff from Applebridge…’

  Edward’s mouth went into a hard line and he stood up, just as someone rapped on the door. Monique opened the door to Joe. As he came in, Edward got up and fetched his and Monique’s coats.

  ‘Thank you for a pleasant evening,’ he said tightly to no one in particular and my stomach squeezed. Hastily, he headed into the corridor. Monique kissed Cindy, half-smiled at me and closed the front door behind them. Joe looked at me. He was carrying a black plastic bag.

  ‘How was the hamstring?’ drawled Cindy tentatively.

  ‘What? Oh, yep, fine now,’ said Joe abruptly. Inwardly I groaned. He really needed training in how to speak to the ladeez!

  A sigh escaped Cindy’s lips as her phone rang and she went over to the balcony to answer it.

  ‘So?’ I whispered, ignoring the lump in my throat that ached at Edward’s brusque departure. ‘Did you get into the flat?’

  Joe nodded. ‘Didn’t find Monique’s keys in her coat, but her front door was easy to pick.’

  ‘And?’ I glanced pointedly at the bag.

  But before he could reply, Cindy rushed over, eyes watering. She hurtled into the bedroom and grabbed her coat.

  ‘Gotta go,’ she said, coming back into the living area. ‘That was my neighbour – my apartment’s been burgled. Apparently…’ A sob escaped her lips. ‘They smashed up the joint – photos from home… Even my goldfish tank is cracked and leaking.’

  She headed for the door but within seconds Joe had passed the plastic bag to me and stood in front of the chef. He put his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said.

  ‘No… It’s okay… I don’t want to be a nuisance. You’re busy tonight with stuff – I can tell that. Don’t need anyone to look after me – never have, never will.’

  Joe stepped back, looking kind of surprised that she hadn’t swooned at his heroic tone. Clearly he was used to saving damsels in distress. ‘Yeah, I’ve been distracted. Sorry Cindy. You deserve better than that.’

  She lifted her head and sniffed. ‘It’s okay, I mean…Honestly. It’s just the shock. No cowardly thief’s gonna get the better of me. I’m an independent woman. Fine on my own.’ She forced a smile. ‘Don’t need no knight in shining armour, but thanks anyway. The neighbours called the police. Hopefully there are fingerprints and… With any luck, Bubbles is managing in a couple of inches of water.’

  Aw bless. How typical of Cindy. Money or her passport could have been stolen but she was most worried about photos of family and a fish.

  Face etched with concern, Joe took out his car keys. ‘No arguments, Cindy. Let’s get going. I’ve got friends who can secure your place. If you’d feel better though…You can spend the night at mine. Everyone needs help now and again.’

  Cindy’s face brightened. ‘Really? I mean, not that I’m scared but…’

  ‘I also know a guy who owns a pet shop – I’ll get a new tank sent over.’ Joe delved into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly pressed handkerchief, which he passed to her.

  ‘You have lots of connections,’ said Cindy, voice all thick with emotion as she dabbed her eyes.

  If only she knew. In fact, how could she possibly stay over at a flat belonging to MI6? But then Joe’s place was probably minimalist, like his black suits.

  *Claps hands* This was great! Proof that Joe liked my fab friend.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, but Cindy shook it off and glared.

  ‘I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you,’ she said. ‘And don’t think you can take advantage of me, in this vulnerable state – not unless I want you to.’

  ‘Yes ma’am,’ said Joe and chuckled. Cindy giggled back. They stared at each other for a moment.

  ‘I’ll be in touch. Look after that bag,’ he said to me, as Cindy texted her neighbour.

  We exchanged looks and I nodded. Curiosity pricked, I hurried into the bedroom to open it, as soon as they were gone.

  The plastic rustled as I slipped my hand into the bag. My mouth went dry as my fingers curled around smooth, cold metal. Oh my God. Already knowing what it was, I pulled the object out of the bag and held it in the air. My heart pounded as I stared at the shiny, lethal-looking gun.

  Chapter 28

  According to Joe, Monique’s gun was a CZ 75 and well capable of causing great harm. However, he insisted there was no point in informing the bosses at MI6, as they would simply reply that ownership of a weapon didn’t imply any intention to murder. Especially as Monique enjoyed sports such as fencing. A bigger, official investigation would first use MI6 manpower to find out if she belonged to a local gun club, as another hobby.

  I sighed as my shift ended and headed out of the kitchen, towards the bar, to grab a coffee. Joe was there, out of uniform, chatting with Cindy. He’d come in yesterday as well, the day after the burglary, just to check she was okay. How great to see him acting more human – and fab to see Cindy letting a man into her life.

  She got up to fetch her handbag from the staff room. Joe was driving her to an out of town furniture warehouse as the burglars had trashed her sofa.

  ‘Nice to see you taking a break,’ I said to Joe, eyes twinkling.

  ‘Not for long. I still have a lot of preparation to do for Saturday. It will be my job to follow the royal couple closely, alongside the royal protection officers. Good thing Pierre has given you and Edward Saturday off, as a leaving present – we haven’t got to think of a cover story, for you missing your last day of work.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing more we can do about Monique except keep a close eye on her, on the day.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s ridiculous, now that we know she had a gun.’

  Joe ignored my comment. ‘I’ve managed to get you and Blade security passes and will pick you both up from your flat at nine o’clock, Saturday morning, to make sure you get inside the stadium without any problem. I’ve wangled two seats for you right by the ticket you found in that girl’s handbag – which is the seating area just below the royal box.’

  I stared at him. The evidence may not be concrete yet, but it was certainly piling up.

  ‘I’ll be close to the royal couple but John Smith will be near you. The slightest whiff of a weapon and you tell him.’

  I sighed.

  ‘Chin up, Agent G. Your mission has not been in vain. Whilst we’ve reached no definite conclusion, it’s enabled us to realise extra attention do
es need to be paid to the royals on Saturday – just to be on the safe side.’

  I nodded, as Cindy reappeared and started breezily talking about how Pierre had offered me more weeks’ work, if I wanted to stay in France.

  ‘Decided what you’ll do yet, honey?’ said Cindy, now in a scarlet bomber jacket. ‘Either way, you’ve still got to come to your leaving bash here, on Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world – JC is making some of his chocolate tarts.’

  ‘You’re both gonna be missed, that’s for sure,’ said Cindy and pulled on her gloves. ‘Hugo’s invited Edward out for a game of boules tomorrow, after his last ever shift. And he asked you over for dinner with his family last night, didn’t he? How did that go?’

  My chest glowed – it had been a huge surprise when Hugo approached me, yesterday morning. I’d been hoping to see Blade that evening but my rockstar friend texted me something about a gig – the first I’d heard of it – and didn’t sign off with one of his usual funny comments. So I’d gladly accepted the head waiter’s invitation, and met his lovely wife and adorable children.

  ‘Wicked – the kids were so cute. Len – Hélène – Hugo’s wife had the night off her supermarket job and went to such trouble. She cooked classic French onion soup with goats’ cheese croutons, followed by Beef Bourguignon. Once Herbert and Henri got back from football, they helped her make yummy macaroons, whist Hugo picked little Honore up from ballet and Heloise from her piano lesson.’

  Cindy let out a long whistle. ‘That’s why I ain’t looking to settle down for a LONG time. Maybe I’m too selfish…’

  ‘Or perhaps you just love your career,’ I said.

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Joe, warmly, and stared at Cindy.

  ‘Takes a special kind of man to accept a woman who doesn’t want to be tied down, though,’ said my American pal. ‘I don’t mean emotionally – I’m as loyal as they come – but physically. If I wanna jump on a plane to go stay at a cookery school for two weeks, I don’t want no man telling me I can’t.’

  Oh my God…! I just saw a soppy look on Joe’s face – could it be… was Agent Joe Bloggs finally falling in love? My eyes tingled as they left the restaurant holding hands… Not only was I a super-spy – Gemma Goodwin was a matchmaker supreme!

  As they left, Edward strolled in, carrying various bags.

  ‘Been shopping?’ I asked.

  Edward gave a shrug. ‘Yes. Thanks to knowing you, I quite enjoy ambling around a mall, looking for bargains.’

  ‘Hmm, it’s one of the more significant pastimes that I introduced you to. I hope you didn’t forget the most important thing…’

  ‘Coffee and cake halfway through?’ He shrugged again.

  I eyed him closely. Edward had been distant ever since the meal on Tuesday, when I’d very firmly told him that nothing he’d say could change my mind.

  ‘So, what did you get?’

  ‘Gifts for everyone back at Applebridge Hall,’ he said, gruffly.

  That was so typical of thoughtful Edward.

  ‘For Kathleen I bought a beautiful egg whisk, in the shape of the Eiffel Tower, and gourmet chocolates,’ he said. ‘For Father, a vintage, cherry wood French pipe to add to his already extensive collection. I hope birdwatcher Lady Constance will like a small silver brooch of a house martin, which is one of the most common feathered friends here in Paris. For estate manage Mr Thompson, a beret – to act as an alternative to his Sherlock Holmes hat.’

  ‘They’ll love them,’ I said. ‘Have you spoken to your dad, lately?’

  ‘Yes. The First World War commemorative events have got us both thinking that Applebridge Hall should get involved. We might arrange a charity event later this year, to raise money for ex-Service men and women.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And on a far less serious level, the glittering view from the Sacre-Coeur made me realise we could make much more of the Hall’s exterior. Father has agreed to us putting up fairy lights at night – especially since the cookery courses at the Academy are now residential.’

  ‘He agreed to that?’

  Edward finally smiled. ‘Yes. We both agreed it was something that we’d never have considered before you came into our lives.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, the place has to be at its best as our French friends have agreed to visit later in the year. Hugo jumped at my invitation to put up him and his family for a couple of weeks, I think it appealed to his money-saving nature.

  ‘Edward! Edward!’ The door had swung open and Mme Durand, the self-professed cougar, hurried in – her make-up as vibrant as ever, a sparkly scarf around her neck. She held her arms out to Edward, a small gift bag swinging from her wrist. She kissed him on either cheek and, eyes glistening, stood back.

  ‘I am just off on a leetle cruise and cannot make your leaving party on Sunday. So I bring you a gift to remember me by…’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Chez Dubois will not be the same without its handsome Englishman.’

  Edward face had lit up. He placed his bags on the floor and slipped an arm around her shoulders. With a squeeze he spoke to her in French for several seconds. I picked out several words – the charmer was reassuring Mme Durand that she was totally unforgettable. A lovestruck schoolgirl expression crossed her face. And who could blame her for totally crushing on this unassuming Adonis with toned limbs, seductive lips and teasing eyes? Finally Edward took the bag and pulled out a silver padlock with keys.

  ‘It might be useful for your luggage,’ she said, blushing.

  ‘How considerate,’ he said. ‘Plus of course, it will remind me of the Pont des Arts… Merci bien!’

  Aw, of course, the bridge Blade told me about where lovers affixed padlocks to the railings, as a symbol of their love, and threw away the key. Anyone else might have laughed at this woman’s attention. But not Edward, and I crushed a little bit, too, as ever courteous, he gently guided romantic Mme Durand to the bar, so that they could share one last coffee before his shift began.

  I headed off home, mulling over the chances of me and Edward staying good friends, when back in England. But once back at my flat, I turned my attention to Blade and sent him a text – said I hoped the gig went well last night and could he come over. Eventually I got a reply – him saying tonight he was busy. So I told him it was a matter of international security.

  Luckily that did the trick and he agreed to come over for dinner, at six. I spent the afternoon investigating John Smith again, online, hoping that if I presented all the information to Blade, he’d help me figure out what the creepy guy was up to. As it was, when Blade turned up, I could hardly get a comment out of him about anything, let alone a view on my very important investigation. Honestly, what was it with the men in my life, today?

  ‘Wine or a cup of coffee?’ I asked as he came in.

  ‘Got any tea?’

  I grinned, once again bemused at his lack of rock’n’roll lifestyle. We sat down and I asked him how the gig went but he answered in monosyllables.

  Well, you know me – I’m a forthright girl and couldn’t contain myself any longer.

  ‘Blade! What’s up? You haven’t been yourself for a couple of days? Where’s that wicked sense of humour?’ I lay my hand on top of his, but he pulled away. A lump formed in my throat. ‘Is it something I’ve done?’

  ‘No… Don’t worry – it’s… personal. I thought I could put right something that was very wrong but…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ignore me. Us artists are temperamental beings. So, what did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Saturday,’ I said studying his face. The black eyeliner wasn’t straight and today Blade hadn’t bothered wearing any necklaces. ‘Joe wants you at the football stadium. With me. We’ve got security passes – are you in?’

  He nodded. ‘If you really think I’ll be useful. Found any more information about Monique?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Brace yourself – Joe found a gun under her bed.’

  ‘What?’ Blade’s jaw dropped. ‘No
n!’

  ‘Yes – but Joe still says that proves nothing. So all you and I can do is be vigilant in the crowd. John Smith will be near us, whilst Joe shadows the royal couple…And we – we also need to protect him.’

  Blade raised his eyebrows and I proceeded to tell him about John’s proposal and how he intended to set Joe up.

  Blade stared at me hard and then finally squeezed the top of my arm. ‘These little shoulders are strong – you have been carrying a lot of responsibility,’ he said, in a soft voice. ‘Ma pucette, I really admire you. I don’t know how I would have coped.’

  ‘Oh…Um… Thanks,’ I said, an electric sensation running down my arm. Blade was right. I’d actually been responsible about this secret service stuff. Despite my urges to approach Monique, I’d restrained myself, plus not told a soul. It… it made me feel good, to think – like last year – my actions could make a difference. Little old Gemma was becoming an accomplished cook, plus a person others could rely on. It felt good.

  ‘Bon – so this rogue agent, John, tell me everything…’ said Blade.

  I took out some notes I’d made, glad to see him more like himself.

  ‘Let’s go through it one more time,’ he said, two hours later, as we finished a simple bolognese I’d rustled up.

  With a groan, I picked up our dishes. We sat at the dining room table, by the balcony window. ‘Okay – but first let me bring over two coffees and a couple of mango mousse cakes I couldn’t resist buying from The Golden Croissant.’

  Whilst Blade read over my notes for the umpteenth time, I prepared the drinks and desserts. When I returned to the table he was scribbling, in English, so that I could understand.

  ‘Bon, first Milan… We can find nothing to relate John to the fake designer factory or football match-fixing. As for the stole Etruscan artefacts…’

  I shrugged. ‘John was investigating the existence of a terrorist cell. The only thing that could link him to that theft was his love of the finer side of life – jewellery and so on. He’s talked of visiting museums…’

  ‘But that’s a tenuous link,’ said Blade and my heart squeezed. That was just the sort of posh thing Edward would have said.