Paris by Heart Page 15

  But what reason was she going to give Julie? Should she tell her the whole story—how Paul had kissed her, how she’d kissed him back and then found him with Nicole? Or should she say it was personal and they were not getting on? Would Julie be satisfied with that? Elise took a deep breath and dialled the number, feeling like she was being thrown from a ship into open waters.

  “Hello, Julie?” There was a click and Julie’s voice told callers she was too busy shopping, visiting friends or sun-bathing to get to the phone right now, so Elise left a message as the recording suggested.

  “Julie, it’s Elise. I have to stop teaching Paul. I have some personal issues, I’m very sorry. I’ll keep paying you the full rent for the apartment, of course. Please give me a call if you’d like to discuss. I’m happy to help find a replacement teacher if you like. I could go to the Australian Embassy and ask if they can recommend anyone. And thank you for everything.”

  She hung up, with the sense of letting down someone who didn’t deserve it weighing heavily on her conscience and her shoulders. She wondered how Julie would react. She’d probably ring her back as soon as she got the message and ask what was going on. “Alea jacta est”, Elise told herself. The die was cast, her fate sealed, so what was the point of worrying?

  She should stop thinking about it and go out. Perhaps she ought to find the rue Goscinny, where the saying—famous since it was spoken to Julius Caesar—was there for all to see, written on the pavement like the names of stars on the Hollywood walk of fame. She’d found it amusing to learn in a tourism brochure that the French had created their walk in honour of the Astérix comic book rather than French movie stars or even famous historical people. It was so quirky that she wanted to see it.

  She looked at a map and clicked her tongue. The street was in the thirteenth arrondissement, too close for comfort to Ivry-sur-Seine and the street where Paul lived. She might bump into him on her way. The chances were slim in a place the size of Ivry, but she’d been at Jojo’s restaurant in the heart of Paris and managed to find herself there at exactly the same time as Paul and that woman. With Elise’s luck it could happen again and she simply didn’t want to risk it. Besides, her chest tightened at the very thought of being close to Paul’s home, where he might be frolicking around with Nicole for all she knew.

  No, Elise would go somewhere else. She took out her guide to Paris and flicked through the pages. Montmartre caught her eye, with that gleaming white basilica—the Sacré Coeur—on the hilltop. Its curious architecture somehow reminded her of the Middle East, or rather how she imagined it to be.

  She read a little further—the guide mentioned it was Romano-Byzantine architecture, translation: modern day Turkey. That would explain the white dome-like roof and detailing. It wasn’t just the architecture that attracted her, though. She’d been told there were artists all around the church in the afternoons and evenings, and street performers too. To top it all off the view of Paris from up there on the hill that dominated the city would be nothing short of spectacular. She closed her guide of the city and gave Dominique a call to see if she wanted to meet her there.

  “Sure,” said Dominique. “I will see you in front of the basilica at twenty hours, uh, I mean eight o’clock, OK?”

  “Great. And don’t worry, I can manage the twenty four hour clock now.”

  “Finally I can say the time normally!” Dominique chuckled. “We find a nice little restaurant and eat first and after the meal we wander around.”

  “The church won’t be closed by the time we finish our dinner?”

  “No, not unless you want a banquet. The Sacré Coeur closes late, ten or ten thirty, I am sure. I will check. Because you will starve to death if we go to the church first, won’t you? You have to eat like the chickens.”

  Elise smiled. “I’ll have a biscuit or two before leaving so we can visit the Sacré Coeur first and eat later.” It was true that the French restaurants really came to life quite a bit later in the evening and made the whole dining experience that much more memorable.

  “Wonderful! You are becoming a little French, you know.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Plus if we go late there is a better chance of you meeting a nice Frenchman, much nicer than what’s-his-name. How are things going with him?”

  “You don’t have to avoid saying his name, Dominique. I’m not a child. Everything’s fine. I’m not seeing Paul and I’m living life to the full.” And a little voice in Elise’s head added “Pretending to live life to the full.”

  “Perfect. Who needs Paul?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “You are not teaching him anymore?”

  “No.” It crossed Elise’s mind that Julie still hadn’t called her back. Perhaps she wasn’t too worried about the lessons after all. She was probably too busy having a good time.

  “That’s good. In any case in France you will have no trouble finding a man. There are millions of other men available who would fall in love with you instantly. I think you can cope with millions.”

  “Of course. And there must be millions who’d fall in love with you instantly, too. Not at the same time as me, I hope.”

  They laughed together and Elise felt comforted by their wonderful blossoming friendship. She enjoyed the banter. She always forgot her troubles with Dominique. They hung up a couple of minutes later after her French friend had explained the way to Montmartre and how long she thought it would take.

  Elise got ready, changing into a little black dress. She never felt over-dressed anymore, not like when she’d first arrived. Parisian chic had rubbed off on her. She slicked on bright lip gloss, tied her hair in a bun and smiled at herself in the mirror.

  She looked cheerful, happy even, and anyone who didn’t know her well would have been fooled, but now that she no longer had Dominique to cheer her up the smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a dull throbbing in her chest, the kind she’d felt ever since she’d found Nicole with Paul. As she watched her expression change, her mouth drawing a thinner line than usual, her eyes filling with sadness, she realised what it was. She ached for Paul, the Paul of a few weeks ago, the Paul she’d believed in and lost.

  On the outside, while she was chatting with Dominique and keeping herself busy, Elise seemed perfectly happy but when she found herself alone the mask came off. If only she could fool herself!

  She checked her watch and decided she’d better go. It would take her around three quarters of an hour to get from her apartment to the northern end of Paris and climb all those steps to the Sacré Coeur, Dominique had told her. She collected her keys and handbag, locked her door and made her way down the wooden spiral staircase that she usually took to go through the Café des Amoureux.

  At least she wouldn’t have to face Paul now. The café was closed by six, one of the advantages of opening very early in the morning and having an owner who believed in balance. But as she reached the ground floor Elise gasped: the side door was still open. She peered through, the urge to see if Paul was still there too strong to resist.

  She saw no one and for an instant thought he must have forgotten to lock up. Or perhaps he was still in the back, cooking or cleaning up, although it was awfully late for that. She leaned forward a little and then through the open door she spotted a silhouette in the corner, shoulders slumped, head tilting back until it rested against the wall. Paul was still there.

  He looked so different, alone in the corner in the semi-darkness, a fragile little boy. She wanted to hold out her hand and touch him, pull him close and kiss him. She wanted to hear him say that she’d had a bad dream, he’d never been with Nicole and never would and this time she’d believe him. Despite the hurt and the niggling sense of betrayal, she wanted to love him. But she wasn’t a teenager; she’d lived a little and knew she had to control those urges. They could only be destructive.

  Suddenly Paul opened his eyes, as if he’d sensed her presence, cutting her thoughts short. She moved back qu
ickly and glued her body to the wall. Bending down in the hope that he wouldn’t see her, she slipped out the side door holding her breath.

  She hurried off, praying he hadn’t noticed her and wouldn’t come after her even though part of her wanted him to. She turned a corner and checked behind her. Paul was nowhere to be seen so she slowed down, relaxing a little, but while she tried to focus on the upcoming evening with Dominique, the Sacré Coeur and all the amazing sights she was about to take in, the only thing she could think about was Paul and how he made her heart beat every time she saw him.

  She longed for him even now that she’d found him with woman and child. She longed for his arms and his lips even though giving in to her desire could destroy her and the balance she’d finally found after Steve. No matter what had happened between her and Paul there was no denying she hadn’t wanted a man this much in a very long time. In fact, she hadn’t ever wanted a man this much. Steve had seduced her, but she’d never ached for him like this. No, Paul was the only one who made her feel this way.

  She made a fist, digging her nails into her palm as she realised that perhaps he was the only one who ever would.

  ******

  Elise found herself out of breath as she climbed to the top of the steps that led to the Sacré Coeur basilica even though she was active and thought of herself as fit. It certainly was steep. She stopped for an instant and looked down at the road way below, before admiring the chic buildings that flanked the stairs and walkway. It felt so private here, yet the people living in the flats on one side of the lane could probably see straight into the apartments facing them, and vice versa. The places looked tiny, too.

  Elise chuckled as she thought that all the money in the world couldn’t buy you everything. You might have Parisian chic and the convenience of being in the heart of this beautiful city, but you lost privacy and space. Or if you had privacy and space, you’d have to live quite a long way away no matter how much you could pay. Rich or poor, life was full of compromises.

  She climbed a few more steps wondering if she could compromise with Paul. Could she accept that it might only be for a short while, and that even during that time he might not be all hers? How could she? Just the thought of it turned her stomach inside out. No, she wouldn’t, couldn’t share with Nicole. He was with Nicole, wasn’t he? He couldn’t have been telling the truth, could he, when he’d said that he was no longer with her?

  Her thoughts were cut short as her mobile phone rang. She checked it, thinking it would be Dominique. It wasn’t. It was Steve. Elise huffed as she replaced the phone in her bag without answering. When would he ever leave her in peace?

  Dominique appeared at the top of the steps. “Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you were lost.”

  The women kissed on the cheek, four times, the Parisian way, not three as they did in Lyon, or two in the south of France, as Dominique had explained. Elise’s friend hurried her along and soon they were standing in front of the gleaming basilica that shone like a star on top of a Christmas tree.

  “It’s magnificent,” exclaimed Elise, still panting a little from the effort of getting there. “The city keeps it really clean, doesn’t it? How do they do it? Do they wash it with high pressure jets?”

  “No, it’s self-cleaning.”

  Elise chuckled, waiting for the punch line, but her friend remained serious.

  “Non, vraiment. It is the type of stone, travertine stone. It produces a chemical that cleans it, calcite I think it is called.”

  “Wow! That’s amazing. I wonder if it automatically purifies souls.”

  “It would be better if it cleaned ovens, non? I hate cleaning the oven.”

  Elise laughed. “Ah, food and the French. Inseparable!”

  She turned around to admire the view of the city. She took in the slate roofs, the ornate street lights, the manicured parks. It was magnificent. It was romantic. Her heart filled with sudden sadness.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Dominique. “You seem disappointed. Did you expect to see something different?”

  Elise forced a smile and made an excuse. “No, it’s beautiful. Just a bit of a stomach rumble. It’s gone now. Don’t worry, I’m OK to wait for dinner until we’ve seen the basilica.”

  It wasn’t hunger at all that had bothered her. She didn’t want to tell her friend that she’d had a vision of herself standing there in front of the church with Paul and his gorgeous daughter, the three of them holding hands.

  What was the point of mentioning it to Dominique? Her friend would only be annoyed that she couldn’t get him out of her head, the way Elise was annoyed with herself.

  And in any event if by some miracle Elise found it in her heart to trust Paul, and he had told her the truth about Nicole, Elise would be going home in a few weeks.

  It would be over in the blink of an eye and there was no getting around that.

  Chapter 18

  Elise woke to loud knocking on her door. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. She hadn’t slept in: it was only ten past seven. No one started too early in France, except perhaps market stallholders and bakers, and she didn’t need to get up until well after eight to be in time for the last week of Madame Delapaix’s delightful cooking course.

  The person knocked again. “I’m coming” Elise cried as she scrambled out of bed as fast as she could. “Une minute s’il-vous-plaît!” she added in French, in case the person couldn’t speak English.

  She slipped on her silk dressing gown, opened the door and gawked. Julie hadn’t phoned her back, she’d come in person.

  “Julie!”

  “I’m terribly sorry to wake you but I wanted to make sure I caught you before your day started.”

  Elise stifled a yawn. “When did you get back?”

  “Last night, around midnight.”

  “You must be tired.”

  “At my age, nearly everyone’s an insomniac.”

  Elise gestured for Julie to come in and sit down, and she set about making them a drink. “Tea or coffee?”

  “If you only have that instant coffee rubbish, tea will have to do.”

  “With lemon and a cube of sugar?” asked Elise. It was the way the French all seemed to take tea. She placed two cups on the table in her kitchenette.

  “So have you been having fun?” Elise hoped to prolong the chit-chat a little to wake fully before Julie broached the topic of Paul and the English lessons. Besides, it might give her a chance to tease out the ball of nerves that had formed in her stomach.

  But the older woman got straight to the point even before she took a sip of her hot drink. “What is the story with Paul?”

  Elise sat, clinging to her dressing gown as if it could shield her from the displeasure and disappointment she was sure Julie was about to express. She wasn’t scared by her; rather she felt saddened that she’d let her down. Julie had been so kind and supportive of her and she knew how highly the older woman thought of Paul.

  “I’m sorry Julie. I didn’t mean for this to happen. There’s a personal issue between Paul and me and I really can’t continue with the lessons.”

  Julie pursed her lips. “I know that much already. You said so on the phone.”

  For an instant Elise wished she were in England where politeness would dictate absolute discretion and no one would ask her to explain herself beyond what she had already done. It wasn’t the same here. There was little the French hesitated to talk about. It mostly made for stimulating conversations and a sense of freedom but at times like these you paid the price and today the price was that Elise wouldn’t get away with generalities. She had to expose her heart.

  She looked away. “We kissed, more than once, here on the premises, too. I’m sorry about that.”

  Julie laughed. “Oh, my dear child, you needn’t worry. In France we have presidents who have mistresses and so long as the country is well looked after nobody expresses concern.”

  Elise shrugged knowing that the real problem was yet to come.
Julie looked into her eyes and the older woman’s expression changed, at once more serious.

  “There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me everything. Don’t be afraid.”

  Elise took a deep breath and the air reached her lungs in staggered bursts. “I went out to dinner with a girlfriend and at the restaurant I bumped into Paul. He was with a woman, Nicole, and their daughter.”

  “Oh? She’s back?”

  From the way the older woman tapped her fingers on the table, Elise saw the displeasure the news brought her.

  Julie quickly recovered. “Look, it’s not a big deal. They divorced a few years ago. Even before the divorce, she treated Paul so badly. She disappeared for weeks on end and that wasn’t the half of it. I can’t imagine him getting back with her. I’m sure it’s only for Christine’s sake that they went on an outing.”

  “Nicole couldn’t keep her hands off him. And she and Paul kissed on the lips. Not a peck, a proper kiss with passion.” It was passion, wasn’t it? No, it was more like defiance from Nicole. “Actually, she glared at me straight after as if to say hands off my man.”

  Julie’s expression changed, only blankness on her face now. She must have been trying to make sense of it all. “Did you talk to him about it? Did he tell you that he was back with her?”

  Elise looked down at her feet. Somehow not seeing Julie’s face made it a little easier to open up. “I couldn’t bear to stay with him. In all fairness, he’s spoken to me since but only briefly, and he did deny being with her. But I was there, Julie. I saw it with my own eyes. The whole thing broke my heart. It shouldn’t have really. He never promised me anything. He didn’t ask me to marry him. We haven’t spent a night together. We’ve kissed, just a few kisses, what is that in today’s day and age? And yet somehow I feel so betrayed. You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”