by Lost
‘Enchanté,’ Louis said, bending over her hand and kissing it loudly.
‘And you are…?’ Fifi enquired, giving him the once over.
‘I’m Raff’s best friend,’ Louis said with a charming smile.
‘And he’s taken,’ Raff added with a twinkle.
‘Zut!’ Fifi said. ‘Damn it. All the good ones are.’
Louis grinned and Raff punched his arm.
The door opened again and they all looked up expectantly. Sophie’s mouth fell open.
‘Jo!’
Jo whooped and threw herself into Sophie’s arms. ‘I decided to come a day early! Is that ok?’
‘Of course it is!’ Sophie hugged her best friend. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ She pulled away to get a better look at her. Jo’s blond quiff was in full force again and she was dressed in bright red jeans and a black t-shirt. She looked stylish and rather French.
‘I love the shop,’ Jo commented looking around. ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Catching sight of Raff and Louis, her eyes went back to Raff; she obviously recognised him from the photo Sophie had sent over.
‘Raff. So pleased to meet you,’ she said.
‘And I’m Louis,’ Louis said, bending over Jo’s hand and giving it a plump kiss, the way he had with Fifi’s.
‘Soon to be a dad,’ Raff said, nudging him. ‘Not that you’d know from all the flirting today.’ He held his hand out to Jo, then kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you too. Sophie has been really looking forward to you coming.’
Jo beamed at him.
Sophie introduced Fifi, and Eloise said hi having met Jo a few times before during visits to England, and then Sophie quickly made a coffee for Jo. A stream of customers suddenly turned up and Raff was soon back behind the counter serving, with Louis hindering him at every turn.
‘Emmenez Jo faire les courses,’ Raff called to Sophie. ‘Go shopping, you two.’
‘Shall we?’ Sophie said to Jo. ‘I could take you to Galeries Lafayette and a few other places.’
‘Lovely!’ Jo dumped her bags inside the house and they left via the main door as customers were lining up outside the shop. ‘Wow, it’s so busy.’
‘I think it’s Raff’s new macarons,’ Sophie said, pleased at all the new business.
‘He’s gorgeous by the way,’ Jo said, giving her a mischievous sideways glance.
Sophie’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing.
‘You’re going to have to tell me absolutely everything,’ Jo said reasonably, linking her arm through Sophie’s. ‘With shopping goes gossiping. And I… need to know everything. Your mum, Raff, Ryan… your scary-looking grandmother… the lot.’
‘Ok, ok.’ Sophie felt so much better for having Jo here; she was like a piece of home.
They made their way to Galeries Lafayette on Boulevard Hausmann. Jo didn’t seem blown away by the exterior, but as soon as they went inside, she couldn’t stop gasping at the art-nouveau beauty of the interieur.
‘Wow,’ she kept saying. ‘Wow…’
Sophie didn’t blame her. The upmarket department store was one of her favourites and as with most of her favourite places in Paris, it reminded her of her mum. Sophie wasn’t sure who had opened the store in the first place, but she knew it had been a tiny fashion shop to begin with and that the company had bought more and more of the adjacent buildings until they had owned the entire block. It now housed everything from fashion to furniture, from beauty to bed linen.
Sophie especially loved the beautiful glass dome that sat over the grand hall – the main part of the store – with the golden light streaming through the stained-glass windows and flooding the hall especially on a sunny day. The magnificent staircase inspired by the Paris opera and the curved balconies that were like loops of piped icing all lent the store an opulent, luxurious feel.
After Jo had treated herself to a few beauty items that Sophie assured her she could have found cheaper back at home, and after they had perused every floor – lingering endlessly in the vast shoe department where Jo had fallen in love with the array of trainers on offer – they finally made it outside. They checked out some of the other shops along Boulevard Hausmann, then paused.
‘Where to now?’ Jo asked.
‘I want to take you to the Palais Garnier,’ Sophie said, turning Jo the other way.
‘What’s that?’
Sophie pulled a mock-shocked face. ‘The Paris Opera house, Jo. I cannot believe you haven’t heard of it. This place inspired the setting for the famous musical, “Phantom of the Opera”.’
Jo shrugged. Paris had always been on her to do list, but she had never got around to it, even though Sophie had always raved about how gorgeous it was.
After purchasing tickets and struggling through the crowds, they arrived in the Grand Foyer, with its sumptuous main staircase – the Grand Escalier. The style of the building was described as ‘Napoleon lll with some baroque thrown in’ and it was designed by Charles Garnier in the late 19th century.
The grand staircase was made of white marble with a balustrade of red and green marble and it split into two staircases that lead to the Grand Foyer. The pedestals at the bottom of the staircase were decorated with female torchéres, and the ceiling above the staircase, which was apparently too dark originally and had to be re-painted, had only been finished the day before the opening of the opera house.
The Grand Foyer, Sophie read, was designed to act as a drawing room for Paris society and its ceiling was painted to represent various moments in the history of music. The foyer opened up onto an outside conservatory-style area with octagonal salons flanking the sides. The paintings and lighting were exquisite and breathtaking, and Jo seemed momentarily lost for words. They made their way through the Member’s Rotunda and finally to the main auditorium, which was gloriously lavish and sumptuous with a huge swathe of burgundy curtain stretched across the imposing stage.
It was the part that always gave Sophie goosebumps, and the time she had been lucky enough to see The Nutcracker there as a child, she remembered gaping in awe at her surroundings. She had never forgotten the experience and her skin prickled as she recalled her tiny hand inside her mother’s, with Eloise on the other side. As it sometimes happened in these moments, Sophie was struck by the magical things her mother had managed to achieve as a single parent.
‘It’s stunning,’ Jo breathed. ‘It has such a lovely feel about it. I’m not really into opera, but even I want to come and see… Carmen or something here.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Amazing isn’t it. Ok. So… how about Fauchon for some chocolates and then a lunch stop?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Maison Fauchon, the modern, kitsch delicatessen and chocolate shop in Place de la Madeleine was a revelation to Jo, who immediately fell in love with the hot pink décor, the glossy floors and the funky vibe. After guiltily purchasing some foie gras, because she adored it but didn’t agree with the production process, and half of her body weight in chocolate and pastries for her parents and older brother whilst loyally avoiding even looking at the brightly coloured macarons, Jo needed a break.
‘I’m treating you to lunch and I want somewhere outrageously expensive and self-indulgent,’ she announced.
‘Have you had a pay rise?’ Sophie asked in amusement.
‘No. I earn enough as it is, thank you very much,’ Jo returned smartly. ‘My job as estate agent is paying so well, my poor boyfriend is feeling all emasculated, the big wally. Come on. I’m hungry and I want something very, very FRENCH.’
Choosing La Maison de la Truffe Madeleine nearby as it seemed to fit the bill, they ducked inside and were soon shown to a table. The décor was grey and white, with much emphasis on the truffle, with arty shots of every kind of truffle known to man adorning the walls as though they were beautiful rather than nobbly and rather potato-like. The décor was art deco in places and very elegant.
‘Wow, I might be able to have foie gras here,’ Jo giggled, checkin
g the menu, and not feel naughty.’
‘You can eat foie gras anywhere in Paris and not worry about it,’ Sophie told her. ‘It’s de rigueur here.’
‘Thank God,’ Jo sighed in relief. ‘My brother is practically a vegan these days. He introduces himself as a “Brand New Vegan” before he says “Hello, my name is Jeff.”’
Sophie mock-shuddered. ‘Oh dear.’
After Jo had gleefully ordered a steak with foie gras – and truffles – and Sophie had ordered the truffle pizza which came highly recommended, they relaxed with glasses of wine.
‘So. What’s your news?’ Jo asked. ‘How come your grandmother has turned up like that? Did you call her?’
‘No… she didn’t even know I was here…’ Sophie filled Jo in with the Fifi gossip.
‘She’s fabulous, but quite intimidating,’ Jo commented. ‘I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’
‘She’s just very forthright,’ Sophie explained, ‘and rather bossy. But she’s lovely too. I always used to think she was the most glamorous lady I knew, after my mum. Always wafting in reeking of Chanel and wearing pearls and heels to breakfast.’
‘I noticed the heels.’ Jo wrinkled her nose. She wore low heels at work, but was far more at home in trainers. ‘Impressive at her age.’
‘Don’t ever say that to her face!’ Sophie laughed. ‘Fifi likes to think she hasn’t aged in years.’
Jo shuddered. ‘I don’t have a death wish, Soph!’
‘Anyway, on a serious note, we’re all still worried about mum.’ Sophie fingered the stem of her wine glass. ‘She’s staying in touch loads… in fact, more than she probably does normally. And the messages are… sentimental and lovely and full of heart. It’s like she’s somewhere reliving our childhood, and it’s reminding me of what a great childhood me and Eloise had, despite not having our dad around, whoever he is.’
Jo sipped her wine. ‘Hmm. Worrying, but I guess with her being in touch that much, she must be ok. Surely?’
‘I don’t know. I mean I hope so, but oddly, they haven’t made me feel that reassured.’
‘Are the messages… weird then? Not the sort of thing she’d usually send?’
‘Maybe.’ Sophie frowned. She thought about what Jo had said. There was something… ‘I suppose the problem is that mum is always very chilled as you know, but she’s not necessarily prone to sentimentality.’
‘Interesting. If baffling.’ Jo shrugged. ‘I don’t know what that means, if I’m honest. Ok. So. Ryan.’
‘Messaging constantly, actually.’ Sophie held up her phone for Jo to see.
Jo flipped through the myriad of messages. ‘Gosh. He’s obviously missing you. How does that make you feel?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Sophie said honestly. ‘Flattered rather than affected, I think. But I was with him for such a long time. And I did love him. Not in the same way as Raff, obviously, but still. It was a good-enough relationship.’
‘A good enough relationship,’ Jo repeated. ‘Did you hear what you just said?’
Sophie nodded. ‘Yes, I know. But… I can’t help thinking that Raff is still the scary option, you know?’
‘What, and Ryan is the safe one?’
‘Maybe.’ Sophie felt uncomfortable saying that, but in essence, it was what she was getting at.
‘So, you want to go back to feeling safe and… sensible… and boring again?’ Jo drained her glass of wine. She looked cross. ‘Well, I’m going to need much more of that if you carry on talking that way.’ She ordered more wine.
‘Don’t get all bossy with me,’ Sophie protested. ‘I’m not saying I want to be with Ryan. I just mean that Raff is… complicated. And Ryan isn’t.’
‘Because he’s a bit boring,’ Jo interrupted. ‘Nice enough, but not that exciting. And he really hurt you,’ Jo reminded her. She inhaled in delight as her foie gras arrived. ‘Oh that smells good. Ok, enough about Ryan – you know my thoughts. What about Raff?’
‘Good subject change,’ Sophie said approvingly. ‘But as a last note on Ryan, I didn’t for one second say I wanted to get back together with him. I just said it was flattering, by which, I probably should have said “gratifying” or “satisfying”. And it feels as though there is unfinished business. No closure. Do you get what I mean? It’s not so much about him being safe… it’s just that he’s always been there. Almost from the point I split up with Raff and came back to England. Even though we were just friends, Ryan was there for me.’
‘Well, he’s not now,’ Jo pointed out reasonably. ‘And all he’s doing is sending a few texts here and there. It’s quite passive, isn’t it? He’s not exactly sweeping you off your feet. And texting like that is something anyone can do because it’s easy and really, these texts… they don’t amount to anything.’ She stopped, thinking about what she had just said. ‘No disrespect to your mum there, by the way.’
‘None taken,’ Sophie was amused, but her head was slightly all over the place again for some reason.
‘Anyhoo. No matter.’ Jo had become rather more docile – clearly in heaven eating her favourite forbidden food. Or perhaps it was all the wine. ‘I’m more interested in gorgeous Raff. I mean… he’s delicious, Soph. You’ve not really mentioned that about him.’
‘Haven’t I? Ah well.’ Sophie’s truffle pizza was sublime.
‘You’re going to stay here, aren’t you?’ Jo asked out of the blue.
‘What?’
‘You’re going to stay in Paris,’ Jo said again. Her expression was upbeat, but her eyes were slightly sad. ‘You look so at home here. You and Raff have fallen for one another; it’s plain for everyone to see. And when your mum comes back, surely you won’t want to leave her?’
Sophie put her knife and fork down slowly. ‘Wow. When you put it like that, it seems so cut and dried. But it really isn’t, Jo.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because… I have no idea of Raff’s long terms plans or what he really feels about me.’ Sophie gazed at Jo earnestly. ‘I don’t want to presume anything and actually, I’m amazed he’s found it in himself to forgive me for leaving without giving him a chance to explain, because it broke both of us.’ She cast her eyes down. ‘I still feel awful about it.’
‘Everyone makes mistakes,’ Jo countered cheerfully. ‘It was ages ago and you thought he’d lied or been a neglectful father. Is that the only fly in the ointment?’
Sophie shook her head ruefully. ‘No, it isn’t! There are loads of things. It’s Raff and it’s work and Pinter and it’s England versus Paris and it’s… lots of things.’ Her phone buzzed. It was Raff checking they were having a good time. ‘And now, seeing you again, I’m reminded of all the stuff I love about home. And London. And my work and you and all of it.’
‘Well, let’s hope it resolves itself quickly,’ Jo said, sitting back, replete. ‘I am a happy, happy girl. I might move here too. And I’ll get horribly fat and end up alone with cats because Rich hates chubby girls. Anyway, isn’t Pinter due to visit soon?’
‘Pinter, Esther and their whole entourage. Imagine. Paris won’t know what’s hit it.’
‘I’ll grab the check and then we need to walk this off,’ Jo stated pushing her tummy out.
‘The Musée d’Orsay?’ Sophie suggested.
‘Get me there, woman.’ Jo took out her purse to pay.
* * *
The Musée d’Orsay was busy, but not unbearably so. On the left bank of the Seine, it was one of the largest art houses in history and it was housed in the former Gare d’Orsay, the railway station. Holding mainly French art, the museum was full of paintings, sculptures, furniture and, Sophie’s favourite part, photography. It held the largest collection of Impressionist and post-Impressionist masterpieces, including work by Monet, Renoir, Degas, Seurat, Van Gogh and Manet.
They wandered around for a few hours, taking in the famous pieces and checking out some unusual artefacts and photographs.
‘Ok, I’m shattered now,’ Jo moaned. ‘
And I haven’t seen the Eiffel Tower properly yet.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Sophie promised. ‘Ok, old lady, let’s get you home. To your Paris home, I mean. Let’s be lazy and get a taxi.’
They found one outside and got in it, pleased to be resting their aching feet.
‘We’ve done so many lazy, naughty things today, I couldn’t be happier,’ Jo sighed as they wove their way through Paris. ‘I’m definitely moving here.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Sophie said, helping her out of the taxi. ‘You can’t stand the pace.’
Inside, Sophie went around turning on some lights, calling out to her grandmother while Jo threw herself into an armchair and eased her feet out of her trainers.
‘What are these?’ Jo picked a pile of photographs up from the table.
‘Not sure. I think they might be the ones Grand-mère found earlier. Have a look, see if there’s anything interesting there.’ Sophie found a note. ‘Ah. She’s gone out to dinner with some friends.’
‘Who’s this?’ Jo held up a photo. ‘He’s pretty hot.’
Sophie narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t know, but there are a few photos of that guy.’
Jo turned it over. ‘It says “Theo M, 1985, Surrey.”’
‘What?’ Sophie grabbed it. ‘None of the others had anything on the back. Theo…’ She turned it over again and stared at the handsome face. Who was this guy? An old flame from England, perhaps? Or someone more significant?
‘Mean anything?’
‘I really don’t know. God, I wish I knew what mum was up to. I’m beginning to think she might have a whole other life I don’t know about.’
Jo looked at her watch. ‘Well. I’d better Facetime Paddy so he doesn’t think I’ve gone off with some sexy Frenchie and then I might have a bath, if that’s ok?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll run it for you now.’ Sophie went upstairs and got the bath running, absent-mindedly squeezing far too much of her mum’s Anaïs Anaïs bubble bath into it.
Sophie sat on the edge of the bath staring at the photograph. Who was he and why did she feel he might be important somehow?
