Lost and Found in Paris

by Lost

  Sophie let out a breath. Why would her mum leave this little shop that she loved so much? Why would she walk away from something she had spent her life creating? Sophie had no idea who was helping out in the shop in the meantime – Eloise hadn’t elaborated on that – but Sophie sincerely hoped it was someone who understood how Mariele liked things done. How she ran the business with an unrivalled passion and unique energy.

  Switching off the lights, Sophie sent Eloise a text to say she’d arrived and immediately received one back saying that Eloise would come over to see her first thing in the morning. Eloise had two young children; it was understandable that she couldn’t rush over tonight.

  Sophie decided to have a coffee and she got the coffee machine up and running. Mariele refused to buy instant coffee so they would always, always make the real thing, and Sophie did the same thing in England. In fact, it had annoyed Ryan as he was a fan of instant and didn’t like waiting for a proper cup.

  Ryan. Sophie listened to the familiar, comforting chugging of the coffee machine and took out her phone. It still hurt to think about him and Sophie had no idea what the future held for them. He was keeping in touch but the contact was erratic so she was never sure when she might hear from him. She was about to dial his number, but at that moment an incoming call from Pinter lit up the screen.

  ‘Pinter. Did you have a sixth sense that I was about to call Ryan?’

  Pinter gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I’d love to say yes, but… no. Haven’t given him a second’s thought. I only worry about you. Anyway, how does it feel to be back in Paris?’

  Sophie poured herself a coffee. ‘Weird. Paris is beautiful, of course. And the house is the same. Gorgeous. Evocative. Like, exactly the same. It smells of her, you know?’

  ‘Is that good?’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Yes, you idiot. It smells of her perfume. But I feel all anxious about her now, which I know is silly.’

  ‘It’s not,’ Pinter said reasonably. ‘It makes perfect sense. You’re at your old home so you feel closer to your mum. And now you’re feeling more worried because you’re wondering where she is and what’s happened.’

  ‘That’s exactly it.’ Sophie wandered back into the lounge. ‘I just went into the shop… it feels strange when it’s closed but it still brought back so many memories.’

  ‘Who runs it with your mum?’ Pinter asked. ‘Someone must be manning the fort.’

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Not a clue. It’s a guy, I think, but I don’t know much more than that.’

  Pinter whistled. ‘A guy. How exciting. Maybe he’s handsome and sexy and he’ll take your mind off Ryan, the big plonker.’

  Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘I doubt it. He’s probably ninety and smells bad.’

  ‘Well, beggars can’t be choosers,’ Pinter reasoned kindly. ‘He might still have that je ne sais quoi. Now, what about food? You need to eat tonight.’

  ‘I’ve just eaten at the local bistro. And you’re not my dad, Pinter.’

  He tutted disapprovingly. ‘You keep saying that and it’s just weird. I worry about you, alright? Eat something.’

  ‘There will be something in the fridge if I get peckish later,’ Sophie reassured him. ‘Eloise will have stocked up. She’s very efficient like that.’

  ‘Good. Right, I’m off. Esther’s here. She sends her love, but she wants my attention now.’

  ‘Tell her I love her too. Bye, Pinter.’

  Sophie tucked her phone into her pocket. She supposed she should sleep in her old room tonight. Turning the TV on for some background noise, Sophie headed upstairs with her luggage. Feeling a stab of trepidation, she was relieved to find that her old room looked nothing like it had when she left five years ago. It now resembled a smart spare room with mint-green walls, a large bed with a brass bedstead and a shabby chic dresser topped with pretty pink candles and cerise silk flowers.

  Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, forgetting about her coffee and the TV she’d left on downstairs, Sophie tiredly lay on the bed. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.

  Chapter Four

  Sophie lifted her head from the pillow. It took a few seconds to remember where she was and she struggled to sit up. She hadn’t slept well and she knew she had tossed and turned, worrying about her mum most of the night. Frowning, Sophie realised she could hear noises downstairs. Getting up and shaking her head when she saw that she was still in yesterday’s clothes, Sophie made her way downstairs.

  ‘Eloise?’ she called.

  ‘Sophie!’ Eloise appeared in the lounge, holding out a plate loaded with croissants. ‘I got us breakfast…’ She plonked the plate on a nearby table and rushed over for a hug.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ Sophie said, returning the hug. She and Eloise had always been close; they were twins after all. They were as different as chalk and cheese because Eloise was uptight and orderly and Sophie was creative and impulsive, but they were close. They even shared odd moments of ‘twin bond’ where they felt each other’s pain – when Sophie had left Paris all those years ago, Eloise had reportedly felt sad for weeks and not just because she had missed her twin. And when Eloise had had her two sons, Sophie had known before she was even told of their births as she had oddly ‘felt’ it from afar. Sophie suddenly realised how excited she was to see her nephews again; Eloise and Georges had brought them to England several times and they were full of fun and as loud as anything.

  Eloise held onto Sophie tightly. ‘You too. Thank you so much for coming. I’m so glad you’re here. So glad.’

  Eloise drew back and Sophie couldn’t help noticing that her twin looked apprehensive. Anxious about their mum Sophie could understand, but apprehensive?

  ‘What’s wrong, Ellie?’

  Eloise smiled briefly at the nickname only Sophie used but the smile slowly faded.

  ‘I know you’re worried about mum, but why are you looking like that?’

  Sophie searched her sister’s face for clues, but couldn’t work out what she was feeling. All she could pick up on was trepidation. It was odd coming face to face with Eloise again; they weren’t identical twins, but they looked very similar. They both had dark hair, delicate features and green eyes; it was only their body shape that was different. Sophie was slender and Eloise had curves. Which Sophie had envied her for all their lives and of course, Eloise wished she was slimmer like Sophie. Standard.

  Sophie searched her sister’s eyes for a clue, but couldn’t properly read her. She turned as she heard noises beyond the kitchen. ‘Is that someone in the macaron shop?’

  ‘Yes. Listen, it’s…’ Eloise tailed off and looked down at her hands. ‘Oh, Sophie…’

  Sophie started to feel panicked. Why on earth was Eloise looking so petrified? ‘Is it mum? Have you heard something? Oh God, is it bad news? You just need to tell me if it is…’

  ‘This isn’t about mum.’ Eloise met Sophie’s eye and awkwardly bit her lip. ‘It’s about…’

  ‘Sophie?’

  Sophie gasped and closed her eyes. That voice. She knew that voice. She opened her eyes and turned her head in the direction of the voice. It felt as though she was moving in slow motion… as though she was drowning in shock.

  Raphael. Raff was standing in front of her. Sophie caught her breath. Raff couldn’t be here… he simply couldn’t be here.

  Six Years Ago

  ‘I just want to meet someone and fall head over heels in love,’ Sophie said, flicking her hair.

  ‘You’re so idealistic, Soph.’ Eloise pulled a face and fiddled with the waistband of her trousers. ‘God, these are tight. Are they yours?’

  Sophie peered at them. ‘Don’t think so. What’s wrong with being idealistic?’

  ‘It’s just… pointless,’ Eloise muttered, clearly wishing she’d worn something more comfortable.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. Eloise was only saying that because she’d met Georges a year ago and he was Mr Stable. He had a good job working at one of the big banks in central Paris and he was nice
-enough-looking and he was probably going to propose soon. But he wasn’t exciting and that was a fact. Eloise and Georges had met in a bar like this one near the Eiffel Tower. A desperately self-conscious champagne bar full of… Georges types.

  With a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower, admittedly, Sophie thought to herself. It looked magnificent in the autumn… well, all year round, of course, but there was something special about the swirl of gold, orange and russet leaves around the base of the monument and the stark sight of a misty moon as a backdrop.

  Sophie sipped the drink she had been nursing for the past few hours and gazed out of the window despondently. What on earth was she doing here? This wasn’t her kind of place at all. She didn’t like the look of any of the guys hanging out in this bar. They looked as though they were more interested in business propositions than falling in love. And Sophie was fed up with meeting guys who just wanted to have fun and mess around and who didn’t do stimulate her intellectually.

  ‘Let’s leave,’ she said decisively.

  ‘Leave?’ Eloise looked shocked. ‘But you haven’t even chatted to…’

  ‘I really don’t want to,’ Sophie replied, not wanting to hurt her twin’s feelings and tell her she wasn’t after a Georges lookalike. ‘Come on, Ellie.’ Grabbing her twin’s hand, they made their way out of the bar, accosted several times by various sharp-suited types begging them not to leave.

  ‘Actually, that was pretty bad,’ Eloise giggled as they spilt out onto the pavement. ‘Shall we get something to eat?’

  Sophie tucked her arm through Eloise’s. ‘Why not?’ They walked along the pavement arm in arm, laughing at the evening they were having until Eloise stopped outside a pastry shop. It was a cosy, little shop that doubled up as a bakery in the mornings, but for now, it was all about the cakes. The smell wafting from the shop was delicious and enticing.

  ‘Wow. Look at these!’ Eloise went into a predictably excitable place in the face of such beautifully crafted sugar.

  They went in and surveyed the vast array of cakes and pastries on offer. Eclairs, choux buns, madeleines, palmiers and of course, pretty, pastel-coloured macarons. A dark-haired guy emerged from the back of the shop, shouldering a tray of macarons.

  ‘I can’t decide what to have,’ Eloise was saying. ‘Maybe one of these eclairs or a bun…’

  Sophie wasn’t listening. She was staring at the guy. And he was staring back at her. He put down his tray and continued to stare, a grin spreading across his face. Sophie felt herself grinning back like an idiot. It was as though they were silently saying to one another ‘Oh. It’s you. That person I’ve been waiting for.’

  Sophie ran her eyes over him. Dark hair shaved short, and kind, sexy, chocolate-brown eyes framed by those ridiculously long lashes girls went crazy for. Broad shoulders and big thighs. That was the snapshot Sophie could take in. She had no idea what he was thinking as he stared at her, but her entire body felt as though it had come alive. Their eyes locked onto one another and didn’t let go.

  Raff stared back. Wow. Just… wow. Who was this girl? Was she French? Maybe not… English, perhaps? She was stunning… exquisite. Those eyes, that long mane of hair. That figure… but she was so much more than that. There was simply something about her. Raff caught his breath. The French called that having a certain je ne sais quoi. And this girl, she had it in truckloads.

  ‘Soph. What are you having?’

  Him, Sophie thought to herself. Him. All. Day. Long.

  Raff half-smiled at the girl. Hah he imagined that? It hadn’t been uttered out loud but he had strongly sensed what was going through the girl’s mind. Because he felt the same. What on earth was happening to him? They had only just met and Raff wasn’t prone to such thoughts. Raff tried hard to get a grip of himself with some sensible rationale. He’d been in a few relationships… one significant and destructive, plus a few others that hadn’t affected him much at all. But he was hardly new to all this. But still… this was intoxicating.

  Eloise glanced at Sophie and then at the guy, realising they were having some sort of a moment.

  ‘Raff,’ the guy said, holding his hand out.

  ‘Sophie,’ Sophie said, holding her hand out.

  Their fingers touched, their hands entwined, their bodies leant in towards one another and their eyes locked. Sophie fell desperately in love. And so did Raff. And that, as they say, was that.

  Chapter Five

  Sophie shook herself out of her reverie. Raphael Lussier. Raff. How could this be happening? This was the person responsible for shattered dreams and a broken heart. The person who had given her the fluttery heart and the spinning head and all the excitement and passion she could ever handle. And this was the person who was the very reason Sophie had fled Paris five years ago.

  She met Raff’s eyes and was startled to see that he looked as shocked as she probably did. He looked tortured, in fact. But he looked good. Tall, dark and handsome. He wore jeans with a pale grey sweater, with a scarf thrown around his shoulders and jeans tucked into brown boots. Eloise always used to joke that Raff would look at home in London, the way he dressed, but regardless, he had a certain style and he wore it well. He looked older, because of course he was and he was a little rugged around the edges, but again, he wore it well.

  Sophie was conscious of the fact that she was wearing yesterday’s outfit, the clothes she had travelled in and slept in: smart enough skinny jeans, with black ankle boots and a white fitted shirt that probably now resembled a crumpled tea towel. She knew she must also look older, but she had no idea if she looked better than she had the last time Raff had seen her, or worse. Not that it even mattered.

  Raff stared at Sophie. What on earth was she doing here? Sophie hadn’t set foot in Paris for five years. Even though Mariele was missing, Raff wasn’t sure he was expecting Sophie to turn up in Paris. That said, Sophie had always been devoted to her mother, so maybe it wasn’t so shocking after all that she was standing in front of him.

  Raff stared at her. She looked… beautiful. Tired, admittedly, but still gorgeous. Her hair was longer and more groomed than he remembered it being back in the day, but her figure was… she still looked…

  Raff was rarely lost for words. But today, right in this moment, he knew he would struggle to articulate the thoughts that were racing through his mind.

  ‘R-raff.’ Sophie was furious that her voice wobbled when she spoke. She was cross with herself.

  ‘Sophie.’ Her name came out as a whisper. Raff was equally cross with himself. Why had his voice sounded like that?

  Sophie felt jolted. The way Raff said her name, his accent… it was… no. She mustn’t think about that. ‘What are you… what are you doing here?’ she managed. Her heart was thumping like crazy. Stop sounding like an idiot, she scolded herself.

  Raff gestured behind him without turning, not wanting to sever the connection. ‘The macaron shop…’

  Sophie was puzzled. What did Raff mean? That he was the one helping her mum run the shop? How on earth had that come about? When had he started working here again? Why hadn’t her mum mentioned something? Why hadn’t Eloise, come to think of it? Raff was a pastry chef; Sophie knew that. He had worked in her mum’s shop for a while, years ago. But he had left… he had left to work somewhere else before Sophie had left Paris.

  ‘I… came back a few months ago,’ Raff explained haltingly. ‘Your mum asked me to come back.’ It was true: Mariele had got in touch with him some months ago, but Raff had only been able to start recently. Mariele had been really persistent, which had been odd, but it had suited him to work closer to home again.

  Sophie was flabbergasted. What on earth was going on? Her eyes flickered towards Eloise accusingly, but her anger dissipated when she saw how upset Eloise looked. Turning back to Raff, Sophie tried to get herself together. She wanted to run away. She wanted to turn around and just run. To the airport preferably. Onto a plane that would take her as far away from here as possible. Well, home preferably.
But she was rooted to the spot, unable to move. After all, what sort of idiot would she look like if she did that?

  Sophie felt panic rising inside her. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She was here to track her mum down; she didn’t want to have to deal with Raff. How could he be working here again? Why would her mum have asked him to? Sophie felt a myriad of emotions charging through her. Anger, confusion, hurt. And… memories. Loads of memories hitting her left, right and centre. Good ones, bad ones, amazing ones. Amazing ones.

  She looked back at Raff and was disarmed to see that he was smiling at her. Like, really smiling at her. Smiling in a totally unselfconscious way, as if he couldn’t help it. Because he was just happy to see her or something. Which Sophie felt sure couldn’t be the case, but before she could stop herself, she felt herself smiling back at him. Just for a second. And then she pulled herself together. Why was she smiling at Raff after everything that had happened? Five years ago, this guy broke her heart into tiny pieces.

  Raff realised he was smiling at her and he hadn’t meant to. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it didn’t seem right in the circumstances. Mariele was missing and none of them knew where she was or what had happened to her. And as for Sophie… words couldn’t even begin to describe how she had shattered his whole world all those years ago.

  ‘Listen,’ he started, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. ‘I need to get the shop opened up…’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Sophie nodded rapidly, her stomach suddenly feeling tight.

  ‘I’ll… I’ll see you later,’ he said. He threw Eloise a look before taking his leave, wanting her to know how furious he was with her for not letting him know about Sophie arriving.

  Eloise shook her head and put her finger to her lips before going to close the lounge door.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Sophie burst out.