‘We don’t need men. We’re strong, independent women,’ Maddy said. ‘Aren’t we?’
Leanne nodded and made a thumbs-up sign. ‘You betcha.’
Chapter Fourteen
Life had suddenly become very difficult for Sir Horace. The day after the champagne party, there was a hue and cry over the disappearance of the tiny poodle called Gidget. The house was turned upside down, as they were all ordered to ‘find her at once’. But as the day wore on and there was no sign of the wretched dog, the house fell into an uneasy silence. After the initial panic, Edwina swore everyone to silence. Nobody was to breathe a word about the fact that this precious little poodle was missing. The owner, who was away at a secret location abroad, would be none the wiser until Edwina confessed or the owner returned asking for her pet, whichever came first. Edwina discussed several alternative options with Horace in the library the following morning.
‘We could say she got colic and died. Or maybe someone stole her?’ She shook her head. ‘No, either way I’d be blamed, and she’d never speak to me again or invite me to dinner. You know how unforgiving those people are. And she’d tell everyone and we’d be social outcasts. Pariahs.’ Edwina shuddered. ‘That would be the end.’
‘Not as I see it,’ Horace muttered. ‘I’d finally have time to take up bridge and maybe spend more time with my flock.’
‘You sound like the vicar.’ Edwina rose from the leather chesterfield sofa. She pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘I feel a migraine coming on. I’ll go and lie down for a bit.’
‘All right, my angel,’ Horace said absentmindedly from behind his laptop. ‘I hope you feel better soon.’ He knew it was likely to be days before Edwina emerged from her bedroom. Her migraines were epic but provided him with a break from her constant nagging and the social whirl she was so addicted to. ‘I’ll just look up the papers online, and then I’ll go out to check on the girls.’
‘I really think you should stop calling the hens “girls”.’ Edwina shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘But they’re your pets, of course. Ridiculous.’
After Edwina had glided out of the room, Horace switched from the cricket scores to the Women Today website and the new blog called ‘The Great Euroscape’, chuckling at the text and the photos. Those girls were a hoot. And very pretty, both of them. He couldn’t decide which one he liked best: the sassy platinum blonde with her dark eyes or the tall older girl with the glossy dark-honey hair and dazzling blue eyes. Both fun with that Irish repartee he could listen to for hours. What a combination. He found he suddenly missed them. They had lit up the old place with their laughter and jokes. Some of the guests even called the next day asking to book them for their parties. But Edwina herself hadn’t been impressed. ‘Not very professional, were they?’ she snorted. ‘And they got too familiar with the guests. I have a good mind to complain.’
Little did she know that they had written about the party and included Horace in some of the photos. He laughed to himself as he scanned the pictures, wishing he could show them to Edwina. He looked good there, between the two girls. Younger than his sixty-two years. And happier than he had been for a long time.
But then Edwina discovered Gidget was missing and forgot all else except finding that dratted thing. Horace thought it a blessing the dog was gone. Now he didn’t have to lock his wardrobe so the dog wouldn’t pee in his shoes or fret about what mayhem a poodle could create in his hen house. Peace at last. He sighed happily and read the last item in the blog post with a beautiful view of the canals of Amsterdam and the flower-decked bridges. So quaint. He remembered the city from his student days when he would go there with friends to live it up a little, smoke some excellent pot and find a cuddly Dutch woman to make him happy for the night. In those days, Amsterdam had been the go-to place for sex and drugs. Probably still was.
He read the last line, nostalgia mixed with envy rising in his chest.
After a cultural afternoon, we’re off to see the sights and have a peek at the red-light district tonight. If we’re not back by tomorrow morning, send in the troops!
He smiled fondly at the photo of the two women waving from their sleek red sports car. Darling girls. He hoped they were being careful. Amsterdam was a dangerous city behind all the charm and quaintness. And now they were going to the red-light district for dinner. How he wished he could be there to guide them. He sighed. You couldn’t put an old head on young shoulders. But… maybe one could give them a helping hand somehow…
* * *
After a fun day visiting all the sights and museums on their lists, Maddy walked Bridget and stopped for coffee outside one of the coffee houses overlooking the canals, enjoying the boat traffic on the waterways, and Bridget asleep at her feet. The feel of the sun on her skin, the smell of coffee and the taste of apricot jam on her mini croissant had taken her instantly back to her days with Ludo. Such a short time when the intensity of their feelings for each other and the sadness of an imminent separation made their brief love affair bittersweet. They were both sure they would meet very soon again and perhaps make a life together. They had made promises to one another but it was not to be.
Maddy took the old photo from her handbag and looked at it. It had been taken in a photo booth and they had laughed and kissed while the camera flashed. Then Ludo tore the strip in two and gave her half, which she had kept and gazed at from time to time. Their faces were a little fuzzy but still recognisable. Maddy sighed and put the photo back in her bag, her thoughts still stuck on those few weeks in Paris. Such a long time ago, but sometimes it seemed like only yesterday. Their paths crossed only to separate again at the next turn, Maddy going back to her studies and then meeting Tom, getting married and bringing up two children. Ludo doing whatever he did with his life, while she worked as a teacher in a girls’ school in Dublin. How strange that life had turned out like this, so differently from the way she had expected. Maddy always thought that meeting special people was meant to be and that their romance would end in them being together for life. The perfect Parisian love story. But she was wrong. The night in the château and then the few weeks afterwards were all they had in the end. But what a night it had been, that first time…
* * *
A small room, he said, in the less comfortable part of a little château that was more like a manor house. Although the building was smaller than the châteaus she had visited in the Loire Valley, it was nevertheless a castle of Cinderella standards, built of sandstone with two tall towers ending in pointy roofs at each end, from which gargoyles grimaced at visitors from a height. The front windows glowed with candlelight, and they could see staff running to and fro inside, laying tables and arranging chairs. Ludo drove his small Citroën around the back and parked near the kitchen door. As they went inside, a smiling man in a chef’s uniform showed them a narrow winding staircase, at the end of which they would find their rooms. After they had climbed the stairs, Ludo quickly inspected the two interconnecting rooms before he kissed Maddy, told her he would be up as soon as he finished work and put his bag on the bed in one of the rooms.
‘Not that late, I think,’ he said. ‘The cutting of the cake will be around nine, and then I’ll be free after we’ve cleaned up. You won’t be bored?’
‘No. I brought some books and magazines, and I saw there’s a TV set in one of the rooms. I’ll be fine.’
‘And don’t forget to go for a walk in the gardens before it gets dark.’ He smiled, kissed her again and left. Maddy was free to inspect her room, which was bigger than she expected, with a balcony overlooking a lake and woods beyond. Leaning over the balustrade, she could see into the cobbled courtyard with a herb garden and pots overflowing with geraniums. The hustle and bustle of the wedding party was but a faint murmur at this part of the building. She stood there for a while, unable to tear herself away from the lovely view, thinking, wishing, as the thin crescent of a new moon rose above the oaks, Please let this moment last forever. Then she turned away, crept down the winding stairs an
d walked to the garden, where she wandered around breathing in the scent of flowers and newly mown grass until dusk fell. Next she went upstairs, settled on the bed and picked up her book: La Chartreuse de Parme by Stendhal, one of the French classics from her college course, which had enchanted her from the very first page.
She had drifted off into a light sleep when Ludo entered the room. Suddenly aware of being studied, her eyes flew open. ‘Oh, I must have nodded off. Is it late?’
He kept looking at her. ‘No. We’ve just finished. They’re dancing downstairs. Can’t you hear the music?’
She sat up and listened. ‘Yes. They’re playing “La Vie en Rose”.’
He took her hands and pulled her up from the bed. ‘Let’s dance. It’s my favourite song.’ He put his arms around her waist, and as if by instinct, she put hers around his neck and her cheek to his. Their bodies seemed to fuse together as they danced slowly to the faint music, while Ludo softly sang the words into her ear, his hot breath tickling her neck. The scent of him and his body against hers made her feel like she was drunk on champagne, as he sang the first lines of the song.
‘What’s the next bit?’ he mumbled in her ear. ‘You sing it.’
She sang it in English, remembering the Louis Armstrong version. ‘That’s what it sounds like in my language. Not as divine as the French.’
‘It’s lovely.’ He kissed her mouth then her neck and pulled her down on the bed. ‘Je t’adore,’ he whispered into the neckline of her open shirt.
‘Moi aussi,’ she whispered back, French coming out of her mouth as if she was born to it. Oh, God how strange it was to feel so deeply for a man she had only met a short time ago. But maybe this was what they meant by love at first sight? When they sank down on the bed, her body ached for him. She didn’t know if it was true love or if it would last forever, she just wanted him as much as he seemed to want her.
Not exactly a virgin, nevertheless, she was not very experienced. But he soon brushed away her awkwardness with his kisses, sweet touch and smooth movements that invited her to a rhythm as sensual and loving as if they had been lovers for a long time. There was no pulling back now. She wanted only to melt into his embrace and consummate this new love, whatever happened in the future. How sweet it was to be here in this enchanted place with the soft darkness outside enveloping them, the fragrance of flowers mingling with the cooing of doves and the distant music from the wedding below.
Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, naked under the soft linen sheet, he asked her how she felt.
‘Happy,’ she whispered. ‘And hungry.’
He sat up and swore. ‘Merde! The food. I forgot. You were so beautiful lying there, and then…’
‘And then I forgot, too.’ She laughed softly into the dark.
‘But the food—’ He switched on the lamp beside the bed. ‘I put it outside. Leftovers from the wedding.’
He went outside and fetched a basket full of covered bowls, plates, glasses, forks and a bottle of champagne, which he opened with a loud bang. ‘Our wedding meal.’
They sat up in bed, still naked, and he fed her delicious morsels of foie gras, roast veal, tiny tomatoes, ripe camembert and, finally, a slice of wedding cake all washed down with vintage champagne.
When she declared she couldn’t eat any more, they lay back, their arms around each other and slept until the early morning sun poked rays of gold through the window they had forgotten to cover.
‘You go home tomorrow,’ Ludo said as they lay there, their arms around each other. ‘But I was thinking… maybe you could stay a bit longer? Ask my aunt if you can keep the room until the end of the month?’
Maddy thought for a moment, her heart leaping with joy. He wanted her to stay. ‘That would be fabulous. Yes, I think I could organise that. The rent isn’t that much. I could get a job minding children or something – or teaching English.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Fantastic! That gives us more time to be together.’
‘I can’t wait.’
* * *
The arrangements were made; Maddy stayed on in the little room for another two weeks. Ludo spent most nights with her, while he did his finals at the cookery school. Despite being busy with his finals, Ludo managed to squeeze in moments with Maddy during those weeks. He showed her parts of Paris not known to tourists. They walked through the Marais, along the Canal St Martin, an area popular with Parisians on Sundays. There, they picnicked on the banks of the canal, listening to guitar music and joining in with sing-songs, visiting quirky cafés and browsing in cute little boutiques. They walked hand-in-hand across the iron footbridges, stopping to look at the view, their arms around each other. They made love and then talked late into the night, sharing their hopes and dreams. It was a magical, dreamlike time that stayed in Maddy’s heart and mind for the rest of her life.
They made the most of the time they had left before Maddy had to go back, but the last morning dawned far too soon.
‘You’re leaving tonight,’ Ludo said regretfully as he got dressed.
‘I know.’ Maddy sat up in bed, watching him, wanting to remember every little detail. ‘But you’ll come to Ireland, you said.’
‘Yes. Later this summer. Then we’ll be together again.’
‘That’ll be wonderful.’ Maddy groped in her bag. ‘Here, I’ll write down my address and phone number so you have it.’ She found a piece of paper and the stub of a pencil, scribbled down the street address and the phone number and handed it to him.
He put it into the breast pocket of his shirt. ‘I’ll put it in a safe place.’ He handed her a card. ‘The number of my uncle’s restaurant. Just in case. I’ll be staying there, in the flat upstairs in a few weeks. My aunt and uncle are selling their apartment. They’re moving to Nice.’
‘I know.’ Maddy put the card in her bag. ‘My room is being let as soon as I move out.’
‘The end of an era for them. And us.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let’s go and have breakfast in the little café across the street one last time.’
‘Then it’s goodbye,’ she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
‘No.’ He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face. ‘Just au revoir. We’ll soon meet again.’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Soon.’
* * *
The lobby of the hotel was very crowded when, after a brief rest and settling Bridget for the night, Maddy and Leanne went downstairs. They were both dressed rather demurely in order ‘not to attract the wrong kind of impression’, as Leanne put it.
‘After all, the red-light district—’
‘—is full of hookers and pimps?’ Maddy filled in.
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh, come on, it’s very touristy these days. A bit like Soho in London or Temple Bar in Dublin. I can’t imagine we’ll have any trouble.’
Leanne looked a little sheepish. ‘I suppose. God, I’m such a chicken.’
Surprised, Maddy stared at her. ‘You? Chicken? Are you feeling okay?’
‘I’m grand. Just a little apprehensive about walking around a strange city in the dark. Don’t mind me.’ Leanne took Maddy by the arm. ‘Come on, let’s hit the tiles. We promised our fans we’d go, so we have to.’ She stopped. ‘Did you see all the comments on the first post?’
‘God, I forgot to check. Were there a lot?’
‘Hundreds.’ Leanne laughed and pulled her phone from her handbag. ‘Here, you take a look.’
Maddy took Leanne’s phone, logged into the blog and scrolled down to the comments section. Her eyes popped as she saw the number of comments. ‘Jesus, there are loads!’
‘Read some of them,’ Leanne ordered.
Some of the comments were hilarious, some were deeply touching. ‘You saved my dreary life, you fab hussies,’ someone had written. ‘Swoon city, darlings,’ said another under the picture of Jeremy Clarkson and Hugh Grant. ‘You’re in my dream, move over,’ said yet another. And on and on in the same vein. This first post ha
d obviously hit home and lit up the lives of so many women out there.
‘Incredible,’ Maddy breathed and handed the phone back.
‘And we have like twenty thousand new followers. We’re going viral.’
‘Scary.’
‘But fun.’ Leanne’s eyes sparkled as she walked on. ‘Let’s go. I’m looking forward to seeing this weird restaurant you told me about.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Maddy pushed the main door open and together they marched into the street and across the cobblestones to the narrow lane off the canal.
They had only walked a few minutes in the dark lane, when Leanne nudged Maddy. ‘Don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed,’ she whispered.
Maddy shot a furtive glance behind her and noticed the shadow of a tall man a little further down the street. ‘Maybe just a tourist?’ she suggested, trying to sound brave despite the knot in her stomach.
‘No,’ Leanne hissed. ‘He came around the corner right behind us, and then when I looked, he dashed into a doorway. Now he’s there again.’
Shaking, Maddy took her phone from the pocket of her jacket. ‘Should we call the police?’
‘Don’t know the emergency number here.’ Leanne started to walk faster. ‘Let’s get to the main street ahead. There’ll be more people there, and he might lose his nerve.’
‘Okay.’ Stiff with fear, Maddy linked arms with Leanne, and together they half ran up the street, wobbling on the uneven paving. They could hear the rasping breath of the man behind them. Just before they arrived at the brightly lit main street, Maddy looked over her shoulder again. The man had stopped, his shape illuminated by the dim streetlight. Then he started walking again, shouting something they couldn’t hear. Leanne broke into a run, Maddy behind her, but the man caught up with them. ‘Hello, wait a minute I want to talk to you,’ he wheezed, his hoarse voice echoing through the still night.
The Road Trip_A feel-good romantic comedy that will make you laugh out loud! Page 10
