‘We’d better go back,’ I said. ‘They’ll be wondering what’s happened to us.’
Didier stood up reluctantly and we continued across the bridge, on to the island, and into Mimi’s street.
I was ahead of him and he stopped behind me, still holding on to my hand. ‘Constance!’ He sounded urgent.
I turned.
‘May I kiss you?’ he asked.
Could I kiss a second Blanc brother? Wasn’t that some complicated form of incest? Did I want to? Could I feel something for him? If I did, would I feel better about myself or worse? And then I thought: who cares?
So, I leant towards him.
Our lips were a second away from meeting when I saw someone walking towards us, someone achingly familiar. My heart leapt.
I pulled my hand out of Didier’s grasp, turned and ran towards him.
‘William!’
‘Yup. That’s me,’ William said. ‘Constance, you’re crushing me.’
I let him go. His hair was all over the place. He had a tatty rucksack over his shoulder, his parka was open, and his jeans were hanging down around his hipbones.
‘What are you doing here!’
‘You invited me.’
‘But you came!’
‘I thought you wanted me to.’
‘I did. I do. I’m…’
‘You missed me, you said.’
‘I did!’
‘What have you done with your hair? What are you wearing?’ William looked me up and down with a slight frown on his face.
‘Hello.’ Didier, all pressed and neat, was standing next to us, with his hand out. ‘I am Didier.’
William shook it. ‘Hi. I’m William.’ He looked from Didier to me and then back to Didier again. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘So…’
‘So.’ I was grinning. I had to resist the temptation to throw my arms round him again. ‘It’s almost midnight,’ I said.
‘I know. I’ve been walking for ages. I didn’t realize it was so far. And then I forgot the apartment number. I thought I’d be able to find it because of the noise, but…’
‘It’s just up here,’ I said, pulling him towards Mimi’s door.
We rang the doorbell, the door buzzed and the three of us went up the stairs. I wanted William to myself, but I also wanted to show him off. I didn’t remember Delilah until we were almost at the door. Over my shoulder, I said cheerfully, ‘Delilah’s going to –’ and I was about to say ‘wet her pants’. And then I stopped. ‘William,’ I said. ‘Stay exactly where you are.’
Still Sunday
Still Mimi’s kitchen, 2 a.m.
It’s funny how many things you can fit into a split second. The second I remembered about Delilah’s latest conquest was the same split second that the idea flashed through my head that William seeing Delilah kissing someone else was the ideal way to separate them, to pave the way for me, his true love. But it was in the same split second I discarded the idea. I love William and I don’t want to hurt him, and Delilah, for all that she exasperates the living daylights out of me, is a friend and I couldn’t do it to her.
Is it at moments like this that one’s mettle is tested? (Or is it metal? If it is, I know I’m not gold, but I might be copper. Aluminium at least.)
‘Stay there,’ I said. ‘Don’t move an inch.’
‘What about me?’ said Didier.
William said, ‘Can’t I surprise her? I’ve come all this way.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Trust me. Just wait.’
I went up the rest of the stairs and into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. Mimi, Sacha, Julie and Dave were lying on the floor, talking and throwing olive stones into the wastepaper basket. Jazz piano was coming from the CD. No sign of D or P.
‘Where are Delilah and Philippe?’ I asked.
‘Connie!’ Julie was the only one to look up. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘I’m looking for Delilah,’ I said. ‘Where is she?’
She shrugged and I marched across to the balcony (a little bit of me, just a tiny bit of me, was enjoying the crisis, the power, the intrigue) and threw open the doors. They weren’t there.
William or Didier had begun knocking on the door to the apartment.
‘Er,’ Julie said. ‘Er…’ She nudged the others. Mimi looked at me oddly. ‘The, er, maybe…?’ She gestured towards her bedroom.
‘Connie!’ William was calling me. ‘Let us in.’
‘Wait a second!’ I said. Delilah and Philippe weren’t in the bedroom. I looked in the kitchen. And the bathroom. They weren’t there either. Maybe they’d gone out for a romantic walk.
‘Let us in, please.’
Julie opened the door before I could stop her.
The two boys trooped in. ‘The boy William,’ Julie said. ‘What the hell?’
He shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor. ‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘Yeah, well, yeah.’
That’s what I love about him: he’s so articulate.
She turned to me and made a face that conveyed understanding combined with relief. Before she saw William she must have thought that I’d been on a jealous mission. ‘Ahh,’ she said, turning. ‘Mimi, this is Delilah’s boyfriend.’
‘Ahh,’ said Mimi.
Some embarrassed introductions were made. William looked suddenly racked with the awkwardness of his position. Technically he was gatecrashing. He’d spent however many pounds, travelled however many miles (more attention needed in Geog), walked for hours to gatecrash a party that didn’t seem to exist, thrown partly by his girlfriend, who seemed to have left.
‘Del. She around?’ he asked after a few moments.
‘Yes,’ Mimi said. ‘Yes. Thing is: where? Have you checked…’ She gestured again towards her bedroom.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes. Yes I have.’
‘Let’s get you a drink.’ Julie pulled him by the arm into the kitchen.
‘They were here,’ hissed Mimi after they’d gone. ‘A few minutes ago, I’m sure. They only came in from the balcony because Delilah was cold. She was wearing Philippe’s jumper. This is awful. Une catastrophe.’
‘I know,’ I said.
‘Poor boy,’ said Sacha, from the floor.
William and Julie walked back in.
‘Bummer,’ added Dave with authority.
Where was she? What had she done with herself, the little minx?
We tried to smooth it over, sitting him down on the sofa, changing the music, asking him questions about his journey. After a while I realized he was still wearing his parka so I made him take it off and hang it on the hook by the door. Sacha decided she knew him from somewhere. ‘Are you in a band?’ she said. ‘Are you sure? Didn’t you play at the Benenden Christmas dance?’
I couldn’t relax. I was listening out for footsteps on the stairs, for a giveaway giggle.
Mimi sidled over to me. ‘Did you check my parents’ room?’ she whispered.
‘No!’ The very thought.
‘Go,’ she hissed.
Why would Delilah use Mimi’s parents’ room? Why, when she had the whole apartment to choose from? It wasn’t exactly Piccadilly Circus around here. Surely she wouldn’t have.
She had.
They were lying on the bed, rumpled but fully clothed and, like Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming, fast asleep.
I shook her awake. ‘Delilah! William’s here. Get up and get out there.’
She half sat and looked at me, dazed. ‘I’m not asleep,’ she said. (People hate admitting to being asleep.) ‘Just resting.’
‘Del. William is here.’ I had to shout-whisper it to get her to understand.
‘William?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s here.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes. Now. Get up. Look surprised. Come on!’
She got off the bed, still half asleep, and slipped on her shoes. Philippe slept on, his mouth half open, a tiny swirl of saliva dribbling from it.
>
I drew Delilah by the arm into the sitting room, producing her like a prize – a dazed salmon I’d caught in the upper reaches of the Seine.
‘Here she is!’
‘William.’ She looked stunned. ‘You came!’ She stumbled over to him and threw herself into his lap. He gave me a startled look over her shoulder.
Everyone gave a collective sigh of relief and started drifting off. Crisis averted.
William said, ‘Party of the century, eh? Good thing I came to liven it up.’ And Delilah decided to quieten him down by snogging him. I felt a pain somewhere in my heart.
Alone in the kitchen, I made myself a cup of tea. The teabags have strings in France and I dipped it up and down over the cup. Up and down. Watching the drips. It’s not often you lose two boys to the same girl in one night.
Julie came in and put her arm round my shoulder and watched the teabag with me. ‘Bummer,’ she said in a New Zealand accent.
I didn’t quite have it in me to answer.
Then Didier was in the room too. He stood in the door stiffly. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’
‘Oh, God! Pascale!’ I’d forgotten about her again.
Julie said, ‘Eric came and picked her up on his bike.’
‘I’ll check she has got home safely,’ said Didier.
He’s a nice boy, grown-up and serious and kind, but I didn’t want to kiss him. I would have only been making do. You can’t go around kissing everybody just because they ask you.
‘What about Philippe?’ I said.
‘He can look after himself.’ Didier shrugged. ‘He usually does.’
Suddenly, we heard a squeal from the living room. We rushed in to find Philippe on top of Delilah. She was pushing him off. ‘No. No! My boyfriend’s here. He got here when you were asleep. Philippe! Stop!’
There was a slight noise behind us. William was standing in the doorway, on his way back from the loo.
He just looked at her. He had this expression on his face. I’d seen it before: that day when I walked home from school with him after he’d made the first team in football and his mum and dad had said they’d turn up to watch and they hadn’t. We stood outside his house then. You could hear them shouting at each other from the pavement. He stood there then with the same look on his face. I suppose you’d call it disappointment, except that it’s rawer than that. It’s as if, for a moment, you see everything: everything that all the stuff that’s normally in his face – the grins and the grimaces and the posturing – keeps out.
He said, ‘Oh, Del,’ but lightly, in the tone of voice he’d use if he discovered she’d taped over Match of the Day.
‘Will.’ She came over and stood by him. ‘It’s nothing. It was just a quick… I didn’t know you were coming, remember.’
Over on the sofa, Philippe was laughing. ‘Oh no. I am found out,’ he was saying loudly – in English – to the others. ‘The jealous boyfriend has come in.’
Except William… well… he wasn’t being like that. He was smiling oddly.
‘William. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I’ve had too much to drink. I –’
‘It’s OK.’
She was trying to kiss him and he was gently pulling away.
‘Why won’t you kiss me then?’
He gave her a kiss and she put her arms round him. ‘Say it’s OK. Say you forgive me.’
‘It’s OK. I forgive you.’
I left the room then. It was too painful, for all sorts of reasons, to watch. Sometimes I wonder whether I love William in the way a mother loves a child. I know he’s fit – well, he is these days. It’s funny I never noticed it before – but I also want to protect him. I can’t bear seeing him hurt.
Julie joined me back in the kitchen and we sat down at the table. She said she thought William was a saint. She also said she didn’t think he was in love with Delilah, he just hoped he was and that it was a different thing.
I said, ‘Why isn’t he in love with me?’
And she said, ‘Maybe he is, but he hopes he isn’t.’
‘But why?’ I said. ‘Why make it so complicated?’
‘Because you’re his friend. He won’t want to lose you. He might be scared you’ll go off him. And then he’d lose you as a friend as well. Relationships, Constance, are complicated.’
She only calls me Constance when she’s being really, really serious. It was nice talking to her properly again. That’s the problem with being in France. I feel so dislocated from everyone. I know I’ve seen her loads, but there have always been other people around and it’s as if she’s a different person here. Maybe I am too. And Delilah’s been around so much.
‘I don’t like you being friends with Delilah,’ I said as we sat there. ‘It makes me feel left out.’
She laughed. ‘Why?’
‘I feel like you must talk about me behind my back.’
‘We don’t.’
‘Well, like you might like her more than me.’
‘Of course I don’t, you pill.’
I felt a whole weight leave my shoulders then.
She said, ‘You know something, you and William, you’ve got to talk. You’ve got to thrash this one out. You’ve got to talk it through.’
She went to bed shortly after that and I stayed in the kitchen to write in here. It’s really, really late (or early, depending on your viewpoint).
I’ve just poked my head into the living room. William and Delilah are asleep on the sofa. Dave and Sacha are curled up together on some cushions (that one happened without me noticing). In Mimi’s parents’ bedroom Mimi and Philippe (that happened without me noticing) are asleep on the floor. Julie’s in Mimi’s bed and I’m about to budge her up to make room for me.
Chapter Twenty-three
New vocab: er, too busy for that…
Mimi’s bedroom, 5 a.m.
I was destined to have no sleep. And I don’t care. I’ve got the most extraordinary feeling in my stomach. I’m back in the apartment now. Everyone’s still asleep.
I think I had dropped off when the door opened quietly and I felt breath on my face.
‘Can you get up?’ he said. ‘I need to talk to you.’
He waited for me in the kitchen while I got dressed and then we tiptoed out of the apartment and into the street. There was a pink tinge to the sky and the sound of a rubbish lorry churning several streets away.
William said, ‘I just fancied some air. I needed to get out of there.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s weird.’
We walked, not talking, towards the river and took the bridge across from the island to the left bank. There’s a ramp down to the river itself and we went down that, to a bench at the bottom. The Seine, mushroom brown, snaked past.
‘Funny old night,’ William said. ‘Twelve hours of travelling and then this.’
I said, ‘Poor Delilah. She was really looking forward to seeing you. She’s been talking about you all the time.’
‘Has she?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Look, Con, I want to talk to you about something.’
‘Yes?’
There was a silence.
‘I… Con… I… We… I mean…’ William stuttered.
‘Huh?’ I said.
‘You know when…?’
‘What?’ I said.
‘You know that day we…’
‘What?’
‘You know.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, did you…?’
‘Did I…?’
‘Did you, well… oh, I don’t know.’
He stared glumly ahead. Traffic was passing above us, but you couldn’t see it. There was a high creamy wall between us and the city. I thought about what Julie had said about how complicated relationships are. About how we had to talk this one through. I felt so emotional suddenly I wanted to cry.
‘William?’
He looked at me. His face was pale, his lips dry. The bench was cold under my legs.
&n
bsp; I kissed him.
I know Julie’s usually right. But not always.
We kissed for a long time.
I think before I’d been worried that being friends would make it tame, but it didn’t. It wasn’t embarrassing like that time on the sofa at home. I wasn’t expecting it then. This time, it was so much better because I’d been waiting for it and thinking it was never going to happen. It felt dangerous and illicit and, well, delicious. We stopped kissing and hugged. He said, ‘I only came to Paris to see you.’
‘I only came to Paris to forget you,’ I said.
We kissed some more. I didn’t think about Philippe – I’d forgotten him long ago. And I don’t think William thought about Delilah. Not for a while, anyway.
I was the one who said her name first. I broke off and said, ‘What about Delilah?’ I didn’t hear his answer at first because it was muffled into my neck. (Oh, I do like being kissed on the neck.) I pulled away and looked at him. His eyes were on my mouth. He said, ‘I do feel bad, but…’ and I knew what he meant.
I said, ‘What about our friendship?’ and he said, ‘Bugger our friendship!’ and kissed me again.
On the walk back he said he’s going to talk to Delilah today. ‘It’s not fair otherwise,’ he said. ‘Let her have her chance with Philippe.’
I told him about my lunch with Mother. We arranged to meet after it.
‘Where do you want to go?’ he said, as we reached the apartment. ‘Let’s go somewhere special.’
‘The Eiffel Tower!’ I said. ‘I’ll meet you there at four.’
At the door to Mimi’s room, he said, ‘I like your hair and your clothes, but I prefer the normal Connie.’
‘You mean, the weird Connie.’
‘The normal, weird Connie.’
He looked into my eyes. ‘See you later, my normal, weird Connie. If you change your mind and don’t come,’ he said, ‘I’ll understand.’
Ooh La La! Connie Pickles Page 13
