‘Ah, sure that’s an old saying,’ Maddy argued. ‘Mussels are safe to eat all the year around now.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Horace said, glancing under the table, where Bridget had settled on his feet.
‘You could just eat the frites,’ Maddy soothed. ‘Belgian fries are the best in the world.’
‘I think my mother’s roast potatoes in goose fat would give them a run for their money,’ Horace said with a defiant air.
Maddy was about to reply when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and blinked. Tom. What could he want? They had agreed not to contact each other except in an emergency. She got up from the table looking for a quiet spot. There was no one in the small lobby inside the entrance door, so she walked towards it while she answered. ‘Hi, Tom. What’s up? I hope nothing bad has happened.’
‘So do I,’ Tom snapped. ‘I just heard about you and how you’re exposing yourself on the Internet.’
Maddy’s heart sank. ‘What? I don’t—’
‘Don’t try to deny it. The secretary of the golf club showed the blog to me. The photos. You and that… that tart in the red-light district in Amsterdam. She asked me if we were related.’
‘Oh, that.’ Maddy laughed. ‘Just a bit of fun.’
‘Not the kind of fun I approve of.’ Tom’s voice was ice cold.
‘What did you say to her? About your connection to me?’
‘I said we weren’t related. Which is technically true.’
‘Yes, technically. Of course.’ Maddy said, with a nasty feeling he was disowning her. What a wimp. Couldn’t even stick up for his wife. She could imagine Tom standing there in his hotel, all dressed up in his golf clothes ready for another round. ‘Nobody could be less related to you than me.’
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sneer.’
Maddy sighed. ‘I’m not sneering. I’m sorry if the blog post upset you.’
‘It made me feel like a total eejit. I had no idea you were planning to do this. I thought you were just going on a holiday with a friend.’
‘So did I. This blog idea just kind of happened. But we’re being paid for it, don’t worry. It’s all going to charity. And we have signed a contract, so it’s all above board.’
‘Above board? That’s not what it looked like to me.’
Maddy felt her patience run out. ‘For God’s sake, Tom, try not to be so fecking tight-arsed. It’s just a bit of fun. Loads of women out there love it.’
‘What if the children see it? Their mother cavorting around Europe like some kind of—’ He stopped.
‘Please,’ Maddy cut in. ‘Don’t say something you’ll regret.’
‘I’m trying, believe me.’
‘Keep trying,’ Maddy said and hung up. Swallowing tears of rage and hurt, she marched back into the restaurant, where she found Leanne digging into a steaming pot of mussels and Horace downing a huge tankard of beer.
Leanne looked up. ‘You look like some rat bit you in the backside.’
‘Yeah. Something like that.’ Maddy sat down. A waitress approached with an identical pot to Leanne’s and a plate of chips. ‘Beer, madame?’ she asked.
‘If you have something weak,’ Maddy said. ‘I’m driving.’
‘Oh, well, in that case, a Heineken would be fine,’ the waitress replied. ‘Our own Belgian beer is very strong.’
Maddy nodded. ‘That’ll be grand.’
‘Grand?’ Horace asked and wiped the foam off his lip. ‘Why do you gals always say everything’s grand?’
‘Irish expression,’ Leanne informed him. ‘We say a lot of stuff that might sound weird to you foreigners.’
Horace bristled. ‘Foreigners? The British are not foreign. You are.’
Maddy laughed. ‘Isn’t that the whole Brexit Eurosceptic thing in a nutshell?’
‘What is?’ Horace snapped, his eyes taking on a steely look.
‘That fear of Europe some of you seem to have. Pity you didn’t feel like being a part of it. I think Europe will be sadly lacking without a touch of British humour and heart. We’ll miss you, believe it or not.’
Horace’s eyes bored into her with unusual fire. ‘Fear? We don’t fear anything. We just don’t want the bloody European Union to tell us what to do.’
‘Yeah, there is that.’ Leanne sighed. ‘We don’t like it much either. But we like the cheese and wine. I bet you’ll miss that.’
Horace laughed. ‘Who needs French cheese, when we have Stilton and port?’
‘Gee, I forgot about Stilton.’ Maddy winked and started on her mussels, the best she had ever eaten. ‘Mm, divine,’ she mumbled through a mouthful. ‘Never had mussels like this before.’
‘I hope they won’t make you ill,’ Horace said, looking as if he was hoping quite the opposite. ‘I’m sticking to fries and bacon. Very nice too.’
‘To each their own,’ Leanne said and took a swig of her glass of Riesling. She put it down. ‘But hey, we have to do our photo shoot. Come and sit beside me, Maddy, and take Horace’s tankard.’ She handed her phone to Horace. ‘Here. Do your job. Take a picture of the two of us for the blog.’
‘Just a minute.’ Maddy dived under the table and hauled Bridget into her lap. ‘The star of the show.’ She lifted Horace’s beer tankard, while Leanne held up a mussel. ‘Ready! Say cheese!’
Grumbling, Horace snapped a couple of shots and then grabbed his tankard. ‘I hope you didn’t ruin the head.’
‘It still looks pretty foamy to me,’ Leanne chortled. ‘But let’s not linger too long. We’ll want to get back on the motorway to Paris soon. I want to get there before the shops close. And I want to check into that little boutique hotel before we put Horace on the Eurostar back to London.’
Horace looked up from his plate of fries. ‘Oh. Forgot to tell you. Not going back yet. I’m staying in Paris and then—’
‘Then?’ Leanne said, her eyes on stalks.
‘I’m going with you down south!’ Horace beamed at her and downed his beer in one go.
Appalled, Maddy and Leanne stared at each other.
‘How do you mean?’ Maddy asked. ‘I thought you said you were strapped for cash or something? I can’t believe your egg money would stretch much further. Unless the hens are laying like machine guns.’
‘And won’t Edwina wake up soon and find you missing?’ Leanne filled in.
Horace burped loudly, surprising even himself. ‘Oh goodness me, this beer is strong. I do apologise.’ He patted his mouth. ‘Won’t happen again. Anyway, I must explain. I checked my bank account just before we went into the restaurant. And I saw a payment I didn’t expect. A refund from my insurance company, who accidentally charged double a few months ago. I was wondering why they suddenly increased the insurance for the Land Rover, but it appears it was a mistake. So, I’m ahead in my budget for the rest of the year and can splurge a little. I plan to travel with you dear ladies all the way to Nice and then fly home from there.’
‘And Edwina?’ Maddy enquired.
‘She can take a flying jump,’ Horace said hotly. ‘I need a holiday from her and her bloody social circle.’
Maddy and Leanne looked at each other again. Maddy’s mouth twitched. ‘The worm has turned.’
Leanne frowned. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Maddy agreed. She looked at Horace. ‘I don’t think we can do this, Horace. I’m sorry, but it won’t work. We shouldn’t even have let you come this far.’
‘What about this dog?’ Horace poked Bridget with his foot, making her bark. ‘I might tell on you and say you stole it. Report it to the police in Britain. To Scotland Yard, Interpol. You could be in a lot of trouble, dear girls.’ There was a mean glint in his eyes as he leant back.
Leanne laughed. ‘Interpol, huh? I imagine they’d be too busy with other stuff to worry about one little missing poodle.’
Maddy leant forward and stared at Horace. ‘Yeah, and how would they react if we told
them who put her into our car?’
Horace laughed. ‘How do you know I did it? You can’t prove a thing. The police would never believe it anyway.’
‘They’d probably just dismiss the whole story,’ Leanne said. ‘I can’t imagine they’d do anything but laugh at it.’
‘Not if she belongs to someone with a rather high profile,’ Horace retorted, looking smug.
‘Yeah, like who?’ Leanne sneered.
‘Like a very well-known person,’ Horace said. He glanced around the room, leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘Quite a celebrity. You might have heard of her. A titled lady, you know.’
Maddy’s jaw dropped. ‘Who?’ she wheezed.
‘A member of the royal family,’ Horace said, looking important. ‘That’s all I’m going to say for now.’
Leanne kept staring at Horace, her face pale. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Try me.’
Maddy suddenly felt as if Horace had been replaced by an evil clone. This was not the jovial epitome of the British gentleman who would save any lady in distress; this was a calculating, cold-hearted member of the aristocracy.
‘What a transformation,’ she said out loud. ‘The true-blue Brit takes out the guns. How disappointing. But I suppose the British Empire wasn’t created on a bed of kindness and compassion.’
‘Damn right, old thing,’ Horace said.
Chapter Seventeen
The drive to Paris took them through some beautifully scenic landscapes as the motorway wound its way through the south of Belgium, where Horace wanted to do a detour and visit the battlefields of Flanders. But Maddy pretended she didn’t hear him and continued on the A1 across the border, past Lille, and its flat landscape, over the Somme and through the forest of Compiegne. The countryside changed here, the road lined with a dense wall of trees, casting shadows onto the road. Chantilly and its magnificent château could be seen in the distance, a stark contrast to the urban blight of the outskirts of Paris.
‘I’m just going to close my eyes until we get to the Porte Maillot exit,’ Leanne declared as they drove through the suburb of St Denis and put her hands over her eyes.
‘Rather ghastly,’ Horace agreed as he looked out the window. ‘But London isn’t much prettier.’
‘Or any big city,’ Maddy said. ‘Hang on to your pants, guys, we’re about to hit the Périférique. Don’t talk until we’re out of this hell.’ With the wheel slipping through her sweaty hands, she eased the car into the mess of the packed four-lane ring road that swings around Paris, where countless accidents happen every day and so many people have even been killed. Always busy, always terrifying, it’s the most efficient way to get into Paris, even if you nearly have a heart attack every time.
Maddy clamped her teeth together, tightened her grip on the wheel and drove straight into the next lane, knowing she had right of way, and praying the drivers knew it, too. They did, even if their angry faces showed they didn’t like it much. But Maddy smiled and gestured, pleaded with her eyes, tossed her hair, and little by little, the French male drivers let her pass, some smiling back and even waving.
‘Frenchmen can never resist a pretty woman,’ Leanne said with a laugh. ‘But French women are different story. Watch out, Mads, that hatchet-faced blonde in the beamer is going for you.’
Maddy swerved, narrowly missing a big van, and tucked herself into the next lane behind a lorry. ‘Okay. I’m in the inside lane. How do I get out of here when I want to exit?’
‘Just go through the whole performance again,’ Leanne said. ‘Hey, Horace, where are you staying?’
‘I thought I might stay in that charming hotel with you,’ Horace said, still squeezing his eyes shut, hugging Bridget for comfort. ‘Are we there yet?’
Leanne rolled her eyes. ‘No, you wimp. And you can’t stay with us. They’re booked up. Did you think we’d foot your hotel bill too?’
Horace opened his eyes. ‘Yes, why not?’
‘Because we can’t afford it,’ Leanne retorted. ‘You’re forcing us to take you to the South of France, but that’s all. You’re not getting anything else. Right, Maddy?’
‘Dead right.’ Maddy narrowly missed a limo with the Ritz logo and slammed on the brakes, causing a cacophony of tooting from the cars around them.
Horace squealed and hid his face in Bridget’s fur.
‘This road is a total nightmare,’ Leanne exclaimed, her face white.
‘I feel sick,’ Horace groaned.
‘Please shut up, you two,’ Maddy ordered as she changed gears and revved the engine. ‘Horace, you got the deal, so don’t push it, or you’ll be a statistic.’ She drove off so fast they were thrown against the back of their seats.
‘But I—’ Horace shouted.
‘Shut the fuck up, Horace,’ Leanne snapped.
‘Charming,’ Horace muttered, when the traffic slowed down.
When they finally reached the exit and could drive up the ramp to the relative calm of Porte Maillot, Leanne announced she had found a little hotel in the Latin Quarter that would suit Horace’s budget. ‘It’s a two-star but looks okay,’ she reported, looking at the images on her phone. ‘Got fairly good reviews on Trip Advisor. Will I book that for you?’
Horace nodded reluctantly, looking stroppy. ‘Yes. Fine.’
‘Gimme your credit card, then.’
Looking miffed, he dug in his pocket and handed it to her. ‘There you are.’
Leanne made the arrangements while giving directions to Maddy, who complained about the poor quality of the GPS. ‘You’d think a car like this would have a good one,’ she grumbled.
‘The better one was extra,’ Leanne replied. ‘I thought you’d know Paris like the back of your hand.’
‘It’s been a while, you know. Twenty-three years, two children and a marriage kind of makes things like the back streets of the Left Bank slip into the dark recesses of one’s mind.’
Horace snorted a laugh. ‘You two. So funny.’
Leanne turned to stare at him. ‘Glad to provide such entertainment. Hey, while we’re at it, give me the address of that boutique. You said it was around here somewhere?’
‘Why should I?’ Horace sniffed.
Leanne smiled sweetly. ‘Because we’ll dump you right here and drive off if you don’t, that’s why.’
‘I’ll be on to the police in a flash,’ Horace retorted.
‘And then the fun will be over,’ Maddy remarked. ‘For all of us. How sad.’
‘It’s just off the Boulevard St Germain,’ Horace said. ‘Rue de Buci. Short street full of restaurants. That’s all I’m going to tell you.’
‘We’ll find it,’ Leanne said.
As she followed Leanne’s directions, Maddy realised that there was one thing not even twenty-three years, a marriage and two children had erased from her memory. The way to Ludo’s restaurant.
* * *
After leaving Horace at the dingy little hotel, they continued to the more elegant part of the Left Bank, and their hotel, which offered such luxuries as valet parking and complimentary afternoon tea served in their rooms.
‘Ah, this is better,’ Leanne declared, sitting up against a myriad of lace-edged cushions on Maddy’s bed. ‘I feel nearly human. What plans for the evening, madame?’
‘Anything that doesn’t include Horace,’ Maddy replied from the window seat, where she was enjoying the breath-taking view of the rooftops of Paris. Ludo, she thought. He’s out there somewhere. He alone knows what happened, why he never came back to me. Finally, I’ll get the closure I need. All I have to do is find him.
‘Sounds good to me. I told him we’d get in touch tomorrow morning. He said he wanted to revive some memories tonight. No idea what he meant, but do we want to know?’
Maddy poured herself another cup of Earl Grey from the Wedgwood teapot. ‘No, we don’t. Do you realise he’s blackmailing us?’
‘Of course.’ Leanne nibbled on a mini pain au chocolat. ‘But I doubt he’ll do anything about it e
ven if we dump him.’
Maddy shivered. ‘Not sure I want to put it to the test. He could be a bit of a loose cannon. I don’t want to end up in a British jail for kidnapping a royal pet.’
‘That’d be surreal. Great for our exposure though!’ Leanne got up from the bed and stretched, smiling at Bridget asleep on a cushion by the window. ‘Isn’t it strange how French hotels and restaurants don’t mind you bringing in dogs?’
Maddy laughed. ‘Yes, but if you try it with a baby they get all prune-faced and disapproving.’
‘Typical. Uh, Maddy?’
‘Yes?’ Maddy tore herself away from the view.
‘I want to go to the shop. You know, the one Horace mentioned. It’s just around the corner. It’s not that late, so they’d still be open. Will you come with me?’
Maddy looked at Leanne’s pale face and realised how frightening it must be to consider confronting a father who had deserted his daughter twenty years earlier. A greater pain than that of a long-lost love like hers. The search for Ludo could wait. Leanne needed her now. She held out her hand. ‘I’ll come with you. Of course.’
Leanne took Maddy’s hand in her ice-cold one. ‘Thank you. I know you want to go and look for that guy who left you, but…’
Maddy squeezed Leanne’s hand. ‘That can wait. It’s just a little blip in my life compared to yours. Do you want to go now and see if we can find the shop?’
Leanne nodded. ‘Yes. It’s four-thirty. I figure they close at six or even seven.’
Maddy got up from the window seat. ‘Let’s go.’
‘What about you and—?’
‘That can wait until tomorrow.’ Maddy paused. ‘I’m scared, to tell you the truth. I don’t think arriving at his restaurant shouting “surprise!” would be a good idea. He might not even remember me. He might be married with five kids, or—’
‘In a relationship with some babe twenty years younger,’ Leanne filled in. ‘Or a bitter, lonely man who never forgot you.’
Maddy sighed. ‘No, I don’t think that would have happened. But why didn’t he get in touch after I left, like he said? I have a feeling he just threw away the bit of paper with my contact details and went on to the next woman.’
The Road Trip_A feel-good romantic comedy that will make you laugh out loud! Page 12
