by Lost
‘Sorry, I’m just trying to get my head around this. Are we still together, but just not getting married? Or just… not getting married yet? Or are we actually splitting up here? Is that what’s happening? Did we just break up?’ She gazed out of the window. ‘You brought me here, to this gorgeous place, to… to break up with me?’
‘No, of course not.’ Ryan looked affronted. ‘I don’t want to break up, Soph. Not at all. Well, what I mean is, perhaps we should just… put us on hold for a while.’
‘Put us on hold,’ Sophie repeated in a dull voice. ‘For a year.’
Ryan screwed his face up. ‘You make it sound awful. But it’s not, it’s just… sensible.’
‘Sensible.’ Sophie looked down at her place setting. She had to stop repeating what Ryan was saying. She sounded like an idiot.
‘Yes, I honestly think it’s for the best. You could come to Dubai – of course you could. But I think I’d neglect you,’ Ryan said. ‘And I’m just being honest, Soph. I don’t think I’d have time for us and for you. Not with everything I’ve just committed to at work.’
‘Right. So… you just don’t want to get married anymore?’ Sophie felt dazed.
‘Not… right now,’ Ryan confirmed, moving his knife and fork around the table again.
Sophie wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. ‘But… we live together, Ryan. We share the same house – until you move to Dubai, obviously – but I don’t even know what we are now.’ She stood up. ‘I just know you bought a ring and you’re not giving it to me, and you’re going away for an entire year and it feels like we’re over.’
‘We’re not over,’ Ryan said, looking upset. ‘We’re… on hold. Sophie, I just don’t know what else to do. This job will set me up for life and if we can get through this, we can revisit all our plans for the future then and see where we’re at.’
Sophie put her hand on the ring box and pushed it across the table. He hadn’t once said he loved her. That everything would all be alright. All he had given her was doubts and uncertainty. Sophie felt overwhelmingly sad.
‘So you want me to… wait for you?’
‘Yes. Yes, if you can.’ Ryan gave her a small smile.
‘And you’ll wait for me,’ Sophie said, raising her eyebrows. ‘No other girls in Dubai?’
‘Of course not! If I’ll be too busy for you, I’ll be too busy for anyone else.’ Ryan stopped. ‘God, that sounded awful. What I mean is, I don’t want anyone else. I promise you, Sophie.’
Sophie stood up. ‘Ok, Ryan. I’m a bit… this is all a bit…’
‘I know, it must be. I’m so very sorry.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I… I have to leave if that’s ok. Maybe… stay at a Darren’s house tonight? Give me some space to think?’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Which is silly, as I’ll have all the time in the world to think soon. But I need it. Tonight, I need it.’
‘Sophie…’ Ryan stood up, but Sophie turned away and headed out of the restaurant, gratefully stepped into a waiting lift. Calling Jo, Sophie halted all of her best friend’s excited gabbling and asked Jo to meet her at the nearest bar. Jo, being the incredible best friend she had been since Sophie had abruptly moved back to England from Paris five years ago, didn’t question or stutter out confused sentences; she simply said she’d be there as quick as she could and put the phone down.
Sophie walked unsteadily but quickly to the nearest bar and sent a text to Jo with the address. She then ordered two Porn Star Martinis. And immediately downed both of them. Catching her breath, Sophie then ordered two more and waited for her best friend to turn up and tell her what to do.
Chapter Two
A Month Later
‘It’s really cool here,’ Ryan was saying, shouting a bit.
‘I can’t really talk, Ryan,’ Sophie said in a low voice. Juggling her camera and her phone, she gestured to the happy couple who were busy picking confetti out of their heavily lacquered hair and ducked around the corner of the church to take the call properly. ‘I’m working. I only have a minute or two…’
Ryan carried on talking. ‘As soon as they let you come out here, I’ll get you a plane ticket, Soph!’
Sophie said nothing. A ticket to Dubai? She really wasn’t sure Ryan would ever produce one, nor was she remotely sure she wanted one. Not now. In fact, Sophie wasn’t even sure why Ryan periodically phoned her. He was still talking to her and she could hardly hear him over all the background noise of music and chatter.
‘Where are you?’
‘A buffet lunch,’ Ryan shouted. ‘It’s the thing over here; buffet lunches. Loads of drinks and food and music.’
Sophie leant against the wall. ‘Doesn’t sound much like work.’ She wasn’t sure she cared, but it had slipped out nonetheless.
‘My clients are here,’ Ryan yelled. ‘It’s business. Listen, babe, I have to go. Miss you loads!’ The phone went dead.
Sophie felt glum. She missed Ryan like crazy because she couldn’t simply switch her feelings off, but she was inwardly fuming at what he had done. Jo was of the opinion that Sophie should turn her back on Ryan and kick him to the curb after the non-proposal, but Sophie wasn’t sure she needed to take any particular action. She could either remain in no-man’s land until such time when Ryan would change his mind, or she could take the view that the relationship was effectively over and somehow try to move on. Ryan had literally left a few days after the awful non-engagement dinner and Sophie had spent the first two weeks paralysed over what Ryan might be up to over in Dubai. But she had since come to the conclusion that it was a pointless way to live. Ryan didn’t want to be with her so it didn’t really matter what he was up to.
Sophie’s phone rang again. She glared at it irritably, then answered because it was Jo.
‘Yo! What are you up to?’
‘I just spent three hours photographing a nauseatingly loved-up couple who just got engaged,’ Sophie replied gloomily. ‘And now I’m at a wedding.’
‘An engagement and a wedding?’ Jo tutted. ‘Nightmare. Last thing you need.’
Sophie nodded. She was hearing that. ‘Yep. And Ryan just phoned.’
Jo tutted again. ‘Hmmm. What did he have to say for himself?’
‘He was at a buffet. There was loads of music and it didn’t sound like work; it just sounded as though he was partying.’
Jo let out a derisive snort.
Sophie silently agreed with the sentiment. Ryan’s career might be important, but he had totally sidelined their relationship and that hurt like mad. Sophie was bouncing back and make no mistake about it. But she hadn’t decided to write Ryan off completely. Yet. For now, she was just going with it.
Sophie heard her name being called. ‘I have to go, Jo. The happy couple needs me.’ She rang off, took a deep breath and headed back round the church.
‘Right. Can I have all the bride’s family in front of the weeping willow please…’ Sophie put all the confusion and disappointment that came with thinking about Ryan out of her head, and focused on taking the most breathtaking photographs she could.
* * *
Later that day, Sophie popped in to see her boss at the photographic studio she worked for three days a week. Paul Pinter (rhymed with ‘splinter’) was a ruggedly handsome man in his fifties, who had the silver fox thing down to a fine art. No one ever called him Paul because he just didn’t suit it.
‘How was the wedding?’ Pinter asked. He rearranged some photographs he was viewing, shuffling them into a different order on his desk.
‘Beautiful,’ Sophie admitted, perching on the edge of his desk. ‘Rose-gold, pink and baby blue colour tones, pseudo-rustic table settings, and adorable bridesmaids tugging puppies with bows on their collars around. Attractive couple, very much in love.’
‘Standard. Ish. Must have been tough for you.’ Pinter raised his eyebrows sympathetically and held up a photograph.
Sophie took the photograph from him. ‘It all feels rather tough right now,
Pinter. Weddings, engagements, babies. Everything reminds me of Ryan… or rather, what’s now not happening with Ryan.’ She handed the photograph back. ‘This is gorgeous. She is gorgeous.’ The photograph was of Pinter’s wife, Esther. A former model, ten years younger than Pinter, Esther was impossibly glamorous and pouty, and in black and white especially she had sculpted-out-of-marble lips and cheekbones.
‘Thanks.’ Pinter lounged back in his chair. Typically, he sat in a very non-conventional chair that belonged on a garden deck not in an office. ‘I can’t really take a bad photograph of Esther, to be fair because she’s off the charts beautiful and I’m punching a tad. But this is all stuff we know. What’s new?’
‘Not much.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘Feeling a bit blue. Missing Ryan even though I hate him. I feel as though I need to get away, but I don’t know what from exactly.’
‘I see.’ Pinter eyed her shrewdly and laced his fingers together. ‘Well, feeling blue is to be expected.’
Sophie nodded.
‘And I think you probably just need a fresh start of some kind, rather than getting away from it all.’
Sophie pulled a face. ‘God. Are you firing me?’
‘Never.’ Pinter grinned then looked serious again. ‘The hatred for young Ryan is absolutely to be expected. I’m not feeling the love for him much myself right now, either to be honest.’
Feeling flat, Sophie got off his desk. Wandering round the brightly lit studio with its vast windows, skylights and discreet lamps, she let out a breath. Being at the studio was always soothing; it was peaceful and elegant with cream, fern-green and silver tones, courtesy of Esther. And Pinter had that kind of charismatic, pent-up energy that worked fantastically well on a photo shoot where it was required, but he was equally capable of stillness and calm when in the office. Which was just what Sophie needed.
Pinter was also talking rubbish; he’d never really warmed to Ryan, so why he was making out he’d gone off him because of recent events was anyone’s guess. She said as much out loud.
‘I cannot tell a lie,’ Pinter confessed, getting up to make coffee. ‘I always thought Ryan was rather clean cut and prissy. And not very… you.’
‘Prissy?’ Sophie couldn’t help laughing. She hadn’t heard Ryan described that way before. Clean cut, yes, because Ryan was fastidious about his hair and his appearance, but prissy…?
Pinter spooned coffee into cream mugs with silver handles. ‘Yep. I see you with someone more rugged. A bit older. Stylish.’
Sophie frowned. ‘What… like you?’
Pinter looked at her sternly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m old enough to be your… bleurgh, what a horrible thought. Whatever. No, I do not mean like me… God forbid. I’m a nightmare, and you and I are platonic and always will be.’ He handed her a mug. ‘But Ryan… I don’t know. I know it’s hard on you at the moment, but I can’t help feeling that this is a blessing in disguise.’
Sophie sighed into her coffee. That was easy for Pinter to say. Regardless of his rather chequered past, which involved a heavy alcohol habit and a penchant for partying and sleeping around, Pinter had it all together now. He had the studio, he had a lovely home, he had Esther (so he no longer slept around) and neither of them wanted kids, so they loved to travel and see the world together. By comparison, Sophie just felt lost. She definitely didn’t have anything together right now.
Her phone rang and Pinter picked it up. ‘It’s your twin,’ he said, sliding her phone across the table.
‘Eloise?’ Sophie felt a flash of concern. She and Eloise chatted every few days even though Eloise still lived in Paris near their mother. But she knew something must be wrong.
‘Sophie!’ Eloise sounded relieved.
‘Something’s wrong.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘It’s mum.’
‘What about mum?’ Sophie rolled her eyes, feeling herself relax. Their mother could be erratic at times.
Pinter held his hands up, clearly affronted at not being able to hear what was going on.
‘She’s disappeared,’ Eloise said.
Sophie put Eloise on speakerphone so she didn’t have to fill a very nosy Pinter in later. ‘Ok, but she’s done that before.’
‘Yes, but this is different. And she’s only disappeared for a few days before. This time it’s been a week.’
Sophie looked at Pinter. Pinter pulled a face.
‘A week?’ Sophie shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you say something before?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ Eloise said, sounding stressed. ‘Not with the whole Ryan thing going on.’
Pinter nodded gravely as though he agreed. Sophie rolled her eyes at him. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve put Ryan on the back burner for now; I can cope.’
Eloise continued. ‘Ok, so mum left this cryptic note… something about finding her heart or some such nonsense.’ She let out an audible sigh. ‘I need your help, Sophie. There’s the shop to think about, but I’m mostly worried about mum. She’s never gone for this long before. And I don’t even know where to start when it comes to looking for her.’
Sophie frowned. ‘And you think I do? You’re closer to her than I am, Ellie. You live in the same country, at least.’
‘But you’re more like her,’ Eloise insisted. ‘You know you are, Soph.’
‘Quirky… weird…’ Pinter mouthed to Sophie.
Sophie silenced him with a pointed stare.
Eloise continued. ‘Please help. Come over, help me track her down. The shop… Hang on, Albert needs me. I’ll call you back in a bit.’
‘Well,’ said Pinter, after Eloise had rang off. ‘Saved by the nephew. Is that the nephew? Or is Albert the lazy husband?’
‘Albert is the nephew,’ Sophie replied. ‘Or rather, one of them. Georges is the lazy husband.’ She felt exasperated. Where on earth had her mum gone? And what was she playing at? Disappearing like this, leaving behind a cryptic little note. Honestly.
‘Right.’ Pinter rubbed his chin ruminatively. ‘Well, well, well.’
Sophie looked at Pinter. ‘What, Pinter? Why are you looking at me like that?’
Pinter flung himself into his chair. ‘Looking at you like what?’
‘Like you’re having a lightbulb moment.’
Pinter grinned. ‘Because I am. You wanted a change of scene, yes? A fresh start of some kind?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Well, if Paris isn’t a fresh start, I don’t know what is.’ He sat back as if he’d made an oracle-worthy announcement.
Sophie let out an impatient sound. ‘You’re making it sound as though I would be jetting off to Paris to start a new life, Pinter! That’s not what this is. This is my sister wanting me to go over to Paris… a place I left years ago for… for my own reasons… and track down our errant mother, who could be literally anywhere.’ She threw herself into the chair opposite Pinter. ‘And by the sound of it, I’d get roped into running the bloody macaron shop and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less.’
Pinter fixed Sophie with a pointed gaze. ‘And what exactly were your reasons for leaving Paris, Sophie? You’ve always been very mysterious about that.’
‘Hardly,’ Sophie threw back quickly. ‘I left Paris five years ago. And my reasons aren’t half as exciting as you think they are. It’s not mysterious at all.’
She swallowed and looked away. She wasn’t about to open up about leaving Paris to an already over-excited Pinter who was clearly in the process of making up a back story in his own head about Sophie’s arrival back in England years ago, filling in the gaps she had never provided answers for.
Sophie faltered for a second. No, she wasn’t going to think about any of that. She’d left all that behind her a long time ago. She had left Paris and she had had very good reasons for leaving – reasons that had nothing to do with her family, whom she adored and was still exceptionally close to. Eloise and her family visited a few times a year – their mother even more often than that if she co
uld get time off work. Sophie spoke to Eloise constantly, and to their mum every week or so. Not about why she left, because Sophie didn’t talk to anyone about that mostly because people tried to make her feel as though she might have made a mistake and that she should go back and see. Jo had only mentioned this to her once because it was her genuine take on the situation, but she respected Sophie’s right to believe what she believed.
It was also the very reason why Sophie had never confided in Pinter about her reasons for leaving Paris. It wasn’t that he was disrespectful, but he was a romantic at heart and Sophie knew he would have been fascinated and intrigued by the story and that he would have pushed her to find out if she had done the right thing. And Sophie had to believe she had done the right thing, even now.
She turned her attention back to Pinter.
‘Ok, listen.’ Pinter leant forward, resting the rolled back sleeves of his shirt on his desk. ‘I’m not grilling you; it’s your stuff. Even though I desperately want to know, obviously, because I’m horribly nosy. And I bet it’s about a man and I bet I’d like him more than I like Ryan. Sorry!’ He held his hands up at the expression on Sophie’s face. ‘But anyway, on a serious note, you did say you wanted a change of scene. This could be the perfect thing for you.’
Sophie hadn’t seen Pinter looking so earnest before, but she still wasn’t convinced. Heading back to Paris on a wild goose chase didn’t exactly feel like any kind of fresh start. But then again…
‘Time away from England and everything that reminds you of Ryan,’ Pinter was saying. ‘And your mother is missing… you’d feel far too guilty if you didn’t help your sister find her. And what about the fresh challenge with the macaron shop? I doubt you’d have to do much, to be fair, but who doesn’t love a macaron? Not to be confused with a “macaroon”, of course – that sickly thing with coconut in it, but anyway.’
Pinter paused and took a swig of coffee. ‘You could continue with the photography over there… weddings, babies, engagements and suchlike, and maybe some lovely shots of Paris. I have loads of contacts, so I could arrange work for you over there. As long as your mum is ok, of course.’
