by Lost
Sophie shot a glance at Raff. ‘Yes!’ She felt her heart thumping. This had to be positive. Ines must know her mum fairly well, surely?
‘I know Mariele well,’ Ines confirmed, guiding them towards the first painting. It was a large canvas, covered in violet and clashing yellow paint in a style that might be described as ‘abstract’.
Sophie detested this kind of art, but she wouldn’t dream of saying so tonight.
‘How is Mariele?’ Ines continued, considering the art proudly. ‘She was in here a few weeks back, I think. No, maybe a month or more ago.’
Sophie nodded. The timing sounded right with what Raff had said. ‘She’s er…’
‘Very well,’ Raff chipped in. He met Sophie’s eyes. Clearly Ines didn’t know that Mariele was missing.
‘She talks about you a lot,’ Ines said, smiling at Sophie. ‘You and your twin sister, but especially you. She showed me photos… that’s how I recognised you.’
Sophie caught Raff’s eye. Was that weird? Why had her mum been talking about her so much when she was here? Sophie was confused. She felt as though there must be a clue here, or something significant, but she wasn’t sure what it was.
‘What do you think?’ Ines gestured grandly to the canvas.
‘Er…’ Sophie wasn’t sure what to say. The painting was awful in her opinion, but she couldn’t possibly say that. And she wanted to get the conversation back to her mum.
Raff swiftly stepped in. ‘It’s very bold,’ he said sagely, putting his head on one side. ‘I love the way the artist has used such sweeping strokes to… er… convey his feelings. His inner emotions.’
‘Absolutement!’ Ines exclaimed enthusiastically, clearly impressed with Raff’s ‘knowledge’.
‘Mariele doesn’t really like this kind of art, does she?’ Raff said, going out on a limb. ‘She’s into more classical stuff.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Ines didn’t sound too sure about Mariele’s art preferences. ‘Would you like some champagne?’ Sophie took a glass, and Raff did too.
‘Mariele was talking about that English bookshop when she was here last,’ Ines said out of the blue.
‘Shakespeare and Company?’ Sophie asked, hopefully. It had to be!
‘That’s it,’ Ines nodded. ‘She mentioned it quite a lot. I think it must have been special to her?’
Sophie clutched her champagne flute. The quirky bookshop near Notre-Dame was her mum’s favourite shop. She called it ‘her little piece of England’ and she used to take Sophie and Eloise there a lot when they were younger. Sophie had no idea what it meant for their search, but it was something at least.
‘Did she say anything else?’ Raff asked, keen to get all the info they could.
Ines shrugged. ‘Not that I recall. She wasn’t drinking though, I remember that. And she loves champagne, I think!’ She caught someone’s eye. ‘I must go. It was lovely to meet you… please, enjoy the rest of the exhibition.’ She wafted off in the other direction, about to launch into another big speech about their star artist.
Raff raised his eyebrows at Sophie. ‘Well, I suppose we’ve got something.’
Sophie nodded and leant her chin on her champagne flute. ‘Yes. Not much, but something, I guess. Mum loves that bookshop.’
‘Shall we check it out? Maybe tomorrow?’
Sophie was taken aback. ‘Oh, you don’t have to accompany me to everything, Raff. I can do this on my own.’
‘Of course you can. But I’d like to help you. I’d like to help you find Mariele.’ Raff necked his champagne. ‘Or maybe Eloise will be free. But anyway, my car… and I, are here to help. If you need us.’
Sophie bit her lip. It was oddly reassuring having Raff there. He seemed far better at the detective stuff than she was. But did she want to spend that much time with him? Sophie wasn’t sure.
Raff watched the emotions flitting across Sophie’s face; he was still able to read her thoughts clearly. She was like an open book to him – always had been. He could tell that she felt at home with him and hadn’t been expecting that, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hang out with him. The only thing Raff couldn’t work out was why. Did she hate him? Still blame him for Coco? He watched her check and phone and was suddenly gripped by a thought. Was there a boyfriend back in England? A fiancé, God forbid?
Of course there was someone, Raff thought to himself. Sophie was stunning. And lovely. She wasn’t going to be single, was she? Not after all this time.
‘Boyfriend?’ he asked, before he could stop himself.
‘What?’ Sophie’s head snapped up.
‘Boyfriend. On the phone. Back in England.’ Raff was furious with himself. ‘Sorry. None of my business.’
‘Oh. No.’ Sophie wondered why he had asked her that. But she wouldn’t mind asking him the same thing. She didn’t have a clue about how to broach it, however. And she didn’t even know why she wanted to know. ‘I was just checking if mum had been in touch again,’ she added honestly. ‘I’ve sent her another text, even though I have no idea if she’s receiving them or reading them.’
‘Right. Of course.’ Raff checked out the bottom of his empty champagne glass. ‘Shall we make a move?’
Sophie nodded. Leaving their glasses on the side, they said goodbye to Ines and headed outside. Getting into the car, Sophie let out a jerky breath.
‘Thank you so much for your help in there. I didn’t even know what questions to ask.’
Raff shrugged and started the car. ‘Of course. Not like you, though. You’re usually the chatty one.’
‘True.’ She half smiled in the dark. Raff always used to joke that she told him every intricate detail of a situation to the point where he felt he had been through it with her.
‘I hope Coco is home when I get back,’ Raff said, worriedly.
Sophie nodded. ‘Yes, I get that. It must be hard to have someone you love that much. That you worry about where they are all the time and if they’re safe.’
Raff glanced at her, but said nothing. They drove along in silence and once again, Sophie was struck by how beautiful Paris was at night. How breathtaking. The lights made it look so romantic and gorgeous. God, but she had missed this place! The only thing that felt wrong was that her mum wasn’t here.
‘There you go,’ Raff said, pulling up outside Mariele’s house.
‘Thanks for the lift. And for coming with me.’ Sophie got out of the car, but put her head back inside. ‘Let me know about Coco later? That she’s safe? I can see how worried you are about her.’
Raff was surprised that Sophie had said that about Coco, but he corrected himself. Whatever had gone on in the past, Sophie was a caring person, always had been. ‘I will. Thank you. Could you put your new number in my phone please?’ He realised he sounded formal, but he couldn’t help it.
Sophie tapped her number into Raff’s phone quickly. He dialled it so she had his number too.
‘You wear a different perfume,’ Raff commented out of the blue.
‘What?’
‘Your perfume. It’s… different. To what you used to wear.’
Sophie was stunned. Had he really noticed such a thing?
‘I mean… it’s lovely… what you wear now. But it’s not the same as before. That quirky one you used to love.’
‘No.’ Sophie swallowed. How odd. And how odd that Raff noticing affected her so much. It was such a small thing and yet… Sophie thought for a second.
‘And no, there isn’t.’
‘Isn’t what?’ Raff frowned.
‘A boyfriend. Back in England.’ Sophie felt her cheeks turn hot. God, she was blushing. Why was she even telling Raff this?
‘Oh, ok.’ Raff felt absurdly happy about that. For no apparent reason.
‘There was. A boyfriend. Almost a fiancé, but there isn’t now.’ Sophie was rambling. ‘He’s in Dubai. And not my boyfriend. And definitely not my fiancé.’ She stopped talking. ‘I’m going to go now.’
‘Ok. Good night,’ Raff replied
as she shut the car door. He watched her walk quickly into the house. He pulled away once he knew she was inside.
Wow. So there had been a boyfriend. Of course there had. Almost a fiancé? Why did that make him feel sick? Raff shook his head. He had done his best not to think about Sophie for the past five years. Who she was with, what she was doing, whether or not she was married or living with someone or had kids or was in love with someone the way she had been in love with him… any of the things Raff knew would kill him to find out. He had wanted to know, but he hadn’t wanted to know. When he had started working with Mariele, he had tried to find out what was going on with Sophie, but she had been fairly coy on the subject.
A message flashed up on his phone.
I’m home, Papa, so you can stop worrying about me. Coco X
Raff instantly relaxed. Thank God for that. What a relief. Maybe he was being silly about Coco. Another message popped up.
Thanks for helping me. What ugly art! See you tomorrow for English books and detective work. Sophie.
Raff found himself grinning like an absolute idiot all the way home.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie and Eloise stopped when they reached the Notre-Dame Cathedral.
‘It’s so… imposing,’ Sophie commented, staring up at it. Midday sunshine was blazing down on the monument making the beautiful, coloured windows sparkle. Sophie could only imagine how ethereal it must look from the inside today with the natural light doing its thing.
‘I’m so used to seeing it,’ Eloise said, looking unimpressed by the Gothic monument.
Sophie rolled her eyes. Eloise had never been into architecture. Sophie drew out her camera and took some quick photographs. The Notre-Dame Cathedral was known as ‘Our Lady of Paris’ and it was a medieval, Catholic cathedral considered to be one of the finest examples of French Gothic architecture. It was the most visited monument in Paris, so Eloise was way off beam with her ambivalence.
Sophie walked around the outside of the cathedral. She especially loved the three circular rose windows with their lovely stained glass. The south window in particular was huge and more artistic than the others in Sophie’s opinion. She would love to go in and see the beautiful organ at the back and the bells but she would have to come back another time. Taking a few more photographs, she turned back to Eloise.
‘Was Raff ok about me coming to the bookshop instead of him?’ Eloise asked.
‘Yes, of course. And he was busy in the macaron shop.’ In truth, he had looked slightly disappointed, but he was working and Eloise was free and she wanted to be involved in the search for their mum. Sophie felt slightly awkward about the text she had sent him the night before anyway. Too much? Too friendly? Rather… forgiving? A tad flirty? Sophie cringed inwardly. God, she hoped not. That wasn’t the way she wanted to come across.
‘I told him about Ryan last night,’ she added, as they walked towards the book shop.
‘Did you?’ Eloise looked surprised. ‘How did that come about?’
‘He asked me. If there was a boyfriend back in England. So I just… told him the truth.’
‘Fair enough. I mean, that doesn’t surprise me, because I know he’d want to know. But I didn’t think you’d open up and tell him.’
Sophie frowned. ‘Why not? Me and Raff used to be really close.’
Eloise pulled a face. ‘You used to be close, yes. But you’re not now. Not after five years. Besides, you can be really cagey at times.’
‘What?!’
Sophie felt affronted. She was a great big open book with her emotions written all over her face, with her heart plastered on her sleeve most of the time. Well, she used to be. Maybe she wasn’t so much now. Sophie wasn’t sure how she felt about that realisation. Since when had she become cagey? After Raff? During Ryan?
‘Here it is,’ Eloise said, coming to a halt.
Sophie paused, staring up at the bookshop.
The Shakespeare and Company bookshop had been opened in 1919 by Sylvia Beach, an American. Back in the 1920’s, it had been a gathering place for many then-aspiring writers such as Hemingway and James Joyce. The second version of the shop, in the 5th arrondissement was opened in 1951 by George Whitman, another American, and it was originally called ‘Le Mistral’ but it was renamed Shakespeare and Company in 1964 in tribute to Sylvia Beach’s store and the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birthday.
‘God, this reminds me of when we were kids!’
Sophie exhaled as she took in the green and yellow exterior with the bright red front door. There were little stands outside, loaded with books and the new, to Sophie, cafe next door sold coffee and mostly vegetarian food as well as vegan and gluten free, according to Eloise. The aroma coming from the shop was delicious. Waves of memories washed over Sophie and she knew that when she and Eloise went into the bookshop, the smell would be evocative of her childhood.
Why hadn’t she been back to Paris before now? Sophie wondered. Because of Raff, yes, but still. Sophie adored Paris, and before Raff had come back to work for her mum, why would she even have bumped into him? She had missed Paris. And she hadn’t even realised that. She had become so deeply entrenched in her life in England and, over the past few years, with Ryan, that she had pushed Paris from her memory completely. But now she was back, Sophie realised how much Paris was part of her.
Eloise’s face lit up and she linked her arm through Sophie’s. ‘Let’s go in and see if we can figure out why mum was going on about this place.’
They stepped through the door and into a place of history and childhood memories. It smelt of new books and old books which were stacked away haphazardly in floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves. The shop’s motto, ‘Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers, Lest They Be Angels in Disguise’, was written above the entrance to the reading library, which was free and open to the public. The shop was famous for housing aspiring writers and artists in exchange for helping out at the store.
Eloise and Sophie perused the shelves, checking out the books. They grinned at each other as they felt all sorts of memories from their childhood come rushing back.
‘Mum used to love this section, do you remember?’ Eloise said, pointing. It was the rare book area and it contained different versions of classic novels, unusual books, funky little children’s books and collections of poetry.
Sophie nodded. ‘But why would she have been talking about this place so much at that art gallery? Do you think we should show a few people mum’s photo?’
‘It can’t hurt,’ Eloise agreed.
Sophie started showing Mariele’s photo to the staff in the shop, but no one seemed any the wiser. Sophie began to feel downhearted. She checked her phone in case her mum had come back to her on her last message, but there was nothing. There was however a message from Ryan.
I miss you so much, Soph. Dubai is crazy and I really wish you were here. Call me?
Sophie showed it to Eloise who rolled her eyes. ‘Still trying, I see,’ she commented.
‘Yep.’ Sophie wasn’t sure how she felt about Ryan’s texts. He was cranking in up the ‘missing you’ angle quite a bit and she wasn’t sure why. Did he assume they might get back together or something? She turned to find an elderly gentleman touching her arm. ‘Oh, hi. Can I help you?’
‘I think you were showing a photograph of someone I know,’ the man said in stilted English.
‘We can speak French,’ Sophie smiled, reverting to it smoothly.
The man looked relieved. ‘Ok. This is Mariele, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Sophie said, immediately feeling excited.
‘She used to come here a lot. Not recently,’ he said, his eyes meeting Sophie’s.
She shook her head, but didn’t comment.
‘But she loves books and art. The Louvre,’ he said randomly. ‘Les Deux Magots,’ he added. It was the historic little cafe in Saint-Germain-des-Pres that artists and writers used to frequent back in the day. ‘Try there,’ he said, nodding rapidly.
; Sophie watched him leave, bemused. What on earth did any of that mean?
‘Ok, so we know that mum is an “arty’ type”,’ Eloise said with a frown. ‘We keep being directed that way. I just haven’t got a clue what any of it mans.’
‘Me neither.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘This feels like a wild goose chase, Ellie. I honestly don’t know what any of it means.’
Eloise checked her watch. ‘I need to go shortly. Let’s go for a coffee. Lunch maybe?’
Out in the fresh air again, Eloise suggested they walk to Les Deux Magots, just in case it meant something. Fifteen minutes later, they were ensconced in the corner, outside.
‘It reeks of history here, doesn’t it?’ Sophie said, inhaling the air.
Eloise nodded and ordered some coffees, perusing the menu as she did so. Sophie admired her ability to multi-task; Eloise had become even better at it since having kids. Out of necessity, no doubt.
Les Deux Magots. Sophie looked around. She knew that loosely, it translated as ‘The Two Chinese Figurines’ and that the cafe had been founded in 1812. Back in the day, the cafe was a meeting place to the likes of Hemingway, Simone de Beauvoir and Sartre, whereas these days, it was a mishmash of fashionistas, artists, writers and politicians. There were some very colourful characters here, as well as many business types, suited and booted.
Sophie had always found it a really cool place to hang out and she especially liked the fact that the Deux Magots literary prize had been awarded to a French novel every year for… well, Sophie didn’t know exactly how many years.
‘So, how are things with Raff?’ Eloise asked, stirring the usual huge amount of sugar into her coffee.
Sophie shrugged. What could she say to that? Things were… fine with Raff. In as much as they could be, she supposed, considering the bad blood between them. Sophie stared past Eloise, enjoying the Parisian chatter surrounding them as she watched the eclectic mix of arty people strolling past. The sun was high in the sky and it was leaving a golden sparkle on every surface as it shone down on Saint-Germain-des-Pres.
