A French Affair Read online

  ‘I will. I won’t be too long. I’m already showered, I just need to put some make-up on and grab my bag and some sensible shoes.’

  ‘Oh yes, you’ll definitely need sensible shoes. The Métro is great, but there’s still a lot of walking to be done in Paris. And some of the best places involve climbing stairs.’ He grinned again, then took his leave.

  Sydney closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it again, then went upstairs to get ready for her unexpected day out. She didn’t mind starting her novel another day late because the two weeks she’d carved out to get some words down were just a bonus. She’d have managed it had she stayed at home and been at her day job five days a week, but she’d never been on a writing retreat before and thought it could help her write faster, and better, buying her time for an extra revision or two before sending the completed manuscript to her editor. The more polished it was before sending, she’d figured, the less she’d have to do during edits. Ugh, she hated edits, but knew they were a necessary evil.

  Opening her wardrobe, she looked at the shoes sitting on its floor. Grabbing the unattractive but comfortable trail shoes, she also picked up a light jacket while she was there, then closed the doors. Moving over to the chest of drawers, she pulled out some thick hiking socks, pulled them on, then put on the shoes, tying them tightly.

  Next, she checked her bag contained everything she needed – money, camera, other detritus she always kept in there – and decided it did, with the exception of a drink. She’d make sure to get a bottle of water from the fridge on her way out. Almost set, she took the bag and her jacket downstairs, grabbed the water from the fridge, pulled the keys from the inside of the door, then opened it and stepped outside. Locking up behind her, she stepped across to the other side of the building, looking through the big empty window frames in search of Harry. Damn, she couldn’t see him. That meant she’d have to use her minimal French to ask where he was.

  Just as she was about to step through the doorway, a voice called her name. It was Harry. He’d wound down the window in his car. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought you’d hear the engine running.’

  Now he’d mentioned it, of course she could hear it. But she wasn’t expecting him to be quite so eager to go that he’d already got in the car and started it up. Shoving aside her confusion, she made her way around to the passenger side and got in, closing the door behind her, then putting on her seatbelt. Only then did she turn to Harry.

  ‘OK,’ she said, smiling, ‘I’m ready. Whisk away. I take it you know Paris well?’

  ‘Fairly well,’ he said, putting the car into gear and accelerating off the drive and onto the deserted village road. ‘I know this area better, of course, as I’ve got my properties here, but I’ve been into Paris lots of times and done most of the touristy things.’

  ‘Well then, this trip’s going to be a little dull if you’ve done it all before. We don’t have to go, you know.’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Paris is a fascinating city – I should think it would be impossible to get bored of the place. And I suggested it, anyway. Why would I have done that if I didn’t want to go?’

  ‘Because you’re trying to make it up to me.’

  ‘True, but I could have suggested a walk around Chateau-Thierry, a visit to a war cemetery, a trip to Reims … There’s much more to do in this part of France than people realise.’

  ‘I know. I deliberately didn’t look into any of it, though, as I’m here to work, not to sightsee.’

  Harry shot her a pained look. ‘You don’t have to rub it in. I already told you how bad I feel.’

  ‘Oh no! I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just saying. Please don’t think any more of it – it was an honest mistake, and I suspect taking my laptop and my notes to your house will solve the problem perfectly anyway.’

  He gave a decisive nod. ‘OK. Well, I’ll try and let go of some of my guilt then. Let’s just have a fun day, shall we? You never know, perhaps the city will give you some inspiration for your book. Does it have a setting yet? Is that worked into your outline?’

  ‘It has. But don’t worry, there’s plenty of room in my head for more inspiration. Maybe it’ll feature in my next novel!’ She grinned. It was sweet how much interest he was paying to her writing. Many people just brushed it off as a silly hobby of hers, something of no consequence. She betted they’d change their minds if she hit the big time and ended up bringing in a ton of money. It was a pipe dream, of course, but she knew people would sit up and take notice if she got rich and famous – so-called friends she hadn’t spoken to for years would crawl out of the woodwork and try to befriend her again, hoping for hand-outs.

  She shook her head, eager to uproot the unpleasant ideas. It wouldn’t happen, anyway – the getting rich and famous part. She knew deep down that although her writing was good, it took more than getting a book on retail shelves to make lots of money. For now, she was doing it because she wanted to, not because she planned to make a career out of it. Maybe one day, but not just yet.

  They chatted as they travelled into Paris, getting to know one another. Sydney found out all the basics about Harry: where he was from – Cambridge, which explained his posh accent – how old he was, how old his kids were and what their names were, how he’d ended up buying property in Monthiers … The only thing she couldn’t bring herself to mention was his wife. She really wanted to know where his spouse was, and why she wasn’t here or with her children, but something in her would just not let her ask the question. She knew they couldn’t possibly be separated or divorced, as he still wore his wedding ring. Unless, she thought, it had been his wife’s decision to split up and he still loved her? That could explain his slightly odd behaviour when she’d mentioned her before. In that case, she definitely wouldn’t say anything – she didn’t want to upset him. She would just have to ignore the elephant in the room and hope it didn’t trample all over them.

  Chapter Three

  ‘So,’ Sydney said as they emerged from the Métro station, ‘where are we going?’

  ‘Where do you want to go, beautiful lady? Here, we’re near The Louvre, the Notre-Dame, the flower markets … Hey, what? What did I say?’

  His flirtatious comment had made her turn her face away from his in an attempt to curb her irritation. She couldn’t make her mind up what had happened with his wife, but either way, the fact he still wore his wedding ring meant something, so he should definitely not be flirting with her.

  She sucked in a deep breath and decided to let him have it. If he stormed off in a huff, she was resourceful enough to find her way back to Monthiers. Eventually. ‘It’s just … I don’t appreciate you making those kinds of comments.’ That part wasn’t strictly true. If he was free and single, she’d have been returning the compliments with enthusiasm. ‘You’re married, and it’s not right.’

  ‘Married?’ There it was again, the confused look, the face that told her he had no idea what she was talking about. After a pause, he glanced down at his left hand. Comprehension finally dawned and he gave a curt nod. ‘OK, Sydney, I think we need to talk. Let’s go and sit down somewhere.’ He took her arm and led her down to the edge of the Seine. As luck would have it, there was an empty bench. They walked over to it and sat down.

  Harry twisted his body slightly to face her, then gave a wry smile. ‘Look, I’m sorry you got the wrong impression of me just then. I should probably have realised back in the house when you mentioned my wife … Sydney, I’m widowed. Shelly, my wife, died four years ago. She had cancer; it was quick …’ He shifted his gaze from her to his hands, then began to fiddle with the gold band on the third finger of his left hand. He remained silent for several seconds, then pulled in a breath and released it, shakily.

  Sydney didn’t know what to say. She looked out across the river, taking in all the beautiful sights and wondering how the two of them could get from this awkward conversation to having a nice time. There was no point turning around and going back to the v
illage – they’d be travelling for a good couple of hours and the silence would be excruciating. No, much better to clear the air now and hopefully move on.

  She reached out and placed her hand on his. ‘Harry, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Well, obviously I had no idea otherwise we wouldn’t be in this mess. You still wear your wedding ring, and I just got the wrong end of the stick. I never thought for a moment that you might be widowed. I can’t apologise enough.’

  He looked up, and twisted his hand, grabbing hers and giving it a squeeze. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Sydney. It’s not your fault she got cancer, and not your fault you assumed what someone naturally would with the presence of a ring on someone’s wedding finger. It’s me who should be apologising – I should have told you there was no one in the picture before making that remark. Even before inviting you out for the day. Paris is kind of a romantic city, and I can see why I gave you the wrong impression. I’m not a sleazebag, Sydney, I never have been. I was faithful to Shelly from the moment we met until the moment she left us. In fact, I’ve been faithful ever since. There’s been no one else, and I’ve never wanted there to be, really.’

  ‘Wow,’ Sydney breathed, squeezing his hand. ‘No one else, in four years?’

  He shook his head. ‘She was a very special woman.’

  Sydney nodded. ‘I can tell from the way you speak about her. She was a very lucky woman, to have a man like you adoring her.’

  The smile he gave her was a touch watery, and she had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch his face. He might misconstrue her compassion – she’d lost her mother to that dreadful disease – and think she was making a move. Which would be wildly inappropriate, considering the conversation they were having.

  ‘Thank you,’ he finally said, dragging his free hand through his hair. He puffed out a breath. ‘OK, at the risk of sounding unfeeling – which I suspect you already know I am not – shall we change the subject to something happier? I brought you here to have a good time, not to hear my sob story. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you, but shall we just have a lovely day in the city first?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, decisively. ‘It’s far too beautiful a day to feel sad. So, where are we going?’ She stood up and took a couple of steps closer to the river, admiring the view once more.

  A couple of seconds later, Harry joined her. ‘We’re not too far from the Notre-Dame, if you’d like to see that? I know the Eiffel Tower is an obvious choice for a Paris first-timer, but we’d be in the queue for ages. If you want to come and see it, pre-booking is the best option.’

  ‘The Notre-Dame would be lovely, thank you. And I totally understand about the Eiffel Tower. I’d much rather spend time exploring than standing in a queue.’

  ‘We can still go and see it later, if you want.’

  ‘Yes, maybe. Let’s just see how we get on. Lead the way, kind sir.’

  Harry held out his arm. ‘M’lady.’

  She took his arm with a giggle. ‘We sound like 1950s throwbacks.’

  Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I promised you fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to have.’

  With that, he led her along the bank of the Seine, past the stalls selling second-hand books, paintings and drawings, souvenirs and much more. After passing a large and very beautiful building, which Harry explained was the Palace of Justice – otherwise known as courts of law – their destination came into sight. Sydney gasped. She’d seen photographs of the cathedral, of course, but now she came to the conclusion that they simply did not do the building justice. The towers stretching into the sky, the intricate patterns, the beautiful windows, the commanding presence – the Notre-Dame was truly stunning.

  The crowds milling around it clearly agreed with her. People passed by on the square in front of the cathedral, stopping to look and take photos, while others sat on walls soaking up the atmosphere. A fairly small number queued to get in. Sydney and Harry headed over to join the end of the line.

  ‘Wow,’ he said, looking around, ‘I was expecting a bigger queue. There aren’t many tourists around today. Though, I hasten to add, this line moves a damn sight faster than the one for the Eiffel Tower.’

  She smiled. ‘Good. Do we have to pay to get in?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll get it.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I can pay for myself.’

  ‘I know you can. But I invited you out for the day, so I’m paying.’

  ‘Harry, we’re not on a date.’

  He turned to look at her, and held her gaze for just a second too long before turning away. He hadn’t spoken, but he didn’t need to – the way he’d looked at her told her plenty. As far as he was concerned, it seemed, they were on a date. A date that had begun with a misunderstanding, had included a conversation about his dead wife and was now leading them into a place of worship. It was officially the strangest date she’d ever been on – even stranger than Richard, the guy who’d kept snakes and spiders and done little else but talk about them. She gave an involuntary shiver.

  ‘Hey,’ Harry said, his gaze upon her once more, ‘you all right? You cold?’ He pulled his arm from hers and went to shrug out of his jacket.

  ‘No,’ she said, placing her hand on his arm to stop him, ‘I’m not cold. And I have a jacket anyway, thanks. I dunno, I just shivered. One of those weird things, like someone walking across my grave.’ She wasn’t going to tell him her innermost thoughts – especially about weird blind dates.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, as though assessing whether she was telling the truth. She gave him the brightest smile she could summon without hurting her face, then tucked her arm into his once more.

  ‘OK,’ he said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet as they neared the front of the queue, ‘but you might need your jacket inside. It could be chilly.’

  ‘I’ll definitely grab it if I need it. I’m not a fan of being cold. Hence heading south for a fortnight.’

  They shared a glance, one that warmed her both inside and out. The realisation that her crush had come back with a vengeance hit her hard. She’d shied away from it, understandably, when she thought he was spoken for. But now, knowing he was free and single – and seemingly liked her – she allowed the feelings in, examining his back view as he temporarily turned away from her to pay their entrance fee. His dark hair tapered at the top of his neck, which then swept out to wide shoulders. His body nipped in again at the waist. She’d seen him in a T-shirt, so she knew his arms were fairly muscular, and the way his jeans hung on his arse and thighs indicated that his legs would be similar. Maybe she’d get to find out before the fortnight was up.

  Harry turned quickly, very nearly catching her in the act of eyeing him up. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For everything – bringing me here for the day, paying for me … I appreciate it.’

  ‘Just part of the service of making it up to you,’ he replied, a glint in his eye indicating that he knew she’d realised it had gone beyond that. For him, anyway. She had no idea if he had an inkling that the attraction was mutual, but she’d make sure he knew soon enough.

  They headed into the relative gloom of the cathedral, moving over to one side and pausing for a few seconds to let their eyes adjust to the muted light. When they did, Sydney was instantly impressed. ‘Wow. This place is gorgeous.’

  She continued to look around, rapidly coming to the conclusion that she could stand there for days on end and still not fully appreciate the beauty. The inside was even more intricate than the outside; with decoration of some kind everywhere – but so well done that it didn’t look too busy, or tacky. It just looked amazing. When she finally tore her gaze away, Harry was watching her with an amused expression.

  ‘I can see I got it right, bringing you here. Come on, there’s lots more to see. This place is pretty damn big. Oops, I shouldn’t swear in here, should I?’

  She held her hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened
to emerge. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, removing her fingers, ‘I won’t tell.’

  ‘Thanks. Just for being so kind, I’ll buy you lunch when we’re done here.’

  It was a statement, she knew, not a question, so she simply flashed him a grateful smile and continued to explore the beautiful building. They hadn’t been in Paris for more than an hour and a half, and despite the false start, already she was having the most fun she’d ever had on a date – even though, despite Harry’s look earlier, it wasn’t a date.

  Or was it?

  Chapter Four

  They blinked rapidly as they emerged into the sunlight. Immediately they were swallowed into a crowd, at the front of which was a stern-looking woman holding an umbrella high in the air and speaking rapidly in a language Sydney didn’t understand. Harry reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close.

  ‘Hold on tight. I don’t want to lose you. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  She nodded and shuffled after him as he got them through the bunch of people unscathed. Once they were clear, she moved up next to him but didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t let go either, and they walked together away from the Notre-Dame and off to the left. Sydney was too busy looking around her, at the streets, the architecture, and the people, to take much notice of where they were going, so when they suddenly stopped, she turned to Harry with a frown.

  He inclined his head, indicating the building in front of them. She shifted her gaze and gasped.

  ‘Shakespeare and Company! I’ve definitely heard of this place – it’s meant to be one of the best English bookshops in Paris.’

  ‘Well, why don’t we go and have a look?’

  ‘Are you sure? Letting me loose in a bookshop is never a good idea.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m a book lover too. Wait until you see the library at my place in Monthiers. Anyway, in case we lose each other in this warren of bookish goodness, shall we say we’ll meet back here in half an hour and go and get something to eat? We can always come back after lunch.’