Finding Monsieur Right (2010) (33 page)

'Whoa, hold your horses! There's no need for that kind of talk,' Karloff said, putting his arm around Jules protectively.

'Be not afeard, friend,' Bella added in a beatific voice, holding out her hands. 'We come in peace, to restore good karma.'

'Good
what
? Are you all right, young lady?'

'Look, mate, enough of the yapping. Just let us have the stuff sharpish, all right?'

'
Not now
, Ledge darling,' Chrissie whispered.

'The stuff? The
stuff
?' Paul Celadon stamped his foot in exasperation. 'I'll have you know that I am not a drug dealer. You'll need to look elsewhere for your
stuff
, you disgusting hooligans!'

Isabelle could now see Paul Celadon's birdlike countenance quite clearly: he looked furious and also appeared to be weighing his torch in his hand as a potential blunt instrument.

'
Monsieur
Celadon,' she said, taking a step towards him. 'I am Isabelle Papillon. We spoke on the phone earlier about the manuscripts.'

'What?'

'This is all my fault. I am very sorry. We did not mean to be rude. We only came here to ...'

'Nick the stuff ... Ow!'

'Tell you more about my academic research,' Isabelle continued, as Legend rubbed her arm furiously where it had made sudden contact with Isabelle's elbow. 'I assure you that I am a serious scholar. My supervisor Professeur Sureau will be happy to confirm this. I know that meeting like this doesn't look very good, but my intentions are quite honourable. If only I could consult Meredith Quince's manuscripts, I could show the academic world what a great author she was. Please will you help me?'

While Isabelle talked, Celadon cocked his head to one side and nodded along. That was encouraging. She looked at him expectantly.

'My dear young lady, this is all very touching.' Celadon then said, in a tone of infinite sarcasm. 'Believe me, if it were up to me, your chances of getting your hands on Meredith's manuscripts would be ...
NIL!
' he screamed, his voice rising to a hysterical pitch. 'And since it
IS
, in fact,
UP TO ME, MAY I SUGGEST THAT YOU ALL SKEDADDLE! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!
'

Isabelle sighed. For a moment nobody said a word, then, suddenly, there was the sound of Jules clearing her throat. Much to Isabelle's surprise, Jules reached forward and directed Celadon's torch towards her own face.

'Hello,' she said simply.

Celadon seemed utterly transfixed. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but produced not a sound.

'Well, well, well,' Jules said sternly, pushing her spectacles to the top of her nose. 'And what's happened to our manners? Hmm?'

'Good evening, madam,' Celadon produced eventually, while bowing slightly from the waist. He now spoke in quite a different tone, exceedingly meek and silken. Isabelle, Chrissie and the rest of The Coven stood stock-still, amazed at the transformation.

'Yes, yes, good evening,' Jules replied. 'Well? I'm waiting.'

'I am most terribly sorry for my outburst, dear madam. It was quite unforgivable.'

'I should think so too. You have upset this lady very much,' Jules went on, indicating Isabelle.

'Yes,' Celadon murmured, looking at his feet and shuffling a little.

'You've let all of us down. You've let Meredith Quince down, too. But most of all, I think you'll agree, you've let
yourself
down.'

'Oh yes, I have. I am most dreadfully sorry.'

'So. Do you have the manuscripts, yes or no?'

'Yes, madam, I do. They're upstairs in my study.'

'And you are, of course, willing to let Miss Papillon have them?'

'Yes, certainly. I should be delighted to help you in any way I can, madam,' Celadon said, addressing Isabelle.

'Thank you,' Isabelle murmured automatically.

'Right, then,' Jules said. 'We haven't got all night. Go and fetch the manuscripts. Chop-chop.'

'Yes, madam, of course. I shan't be a moment. Shan't be a moment.'

As Paul Celadon trotted off obediently in the direction of his apartment, everybody looked at Jules.

'What the bloody hell just happened?' Legend asked, speaking for all of them.

'Well,' Jules said tonelessly, 'I said, didn't I, that the customers at the House of Discipline were all very polite?'

Isabelle, feeling rather light-headed, thought that Jules was speaking in riddles.

Then Chrissie burst out laughing, clapping his hands in delight. 'Oh my goodness,
of course
, your
kinky
shop! Darling, I always
knew
that you'd be
excellent
at retail, provided it was the right kind! Tell me, how many of your
super
-naughty trinkets have you sold him?'

'Lots, as it happens. He's one of our best customers. He owns pretty much the entire catalogue.'

'No doubt he'll be back to buy it all again after tonight. I think the old boy really enjoyed himself there.'

'Thank you, Jules,' Isabelle said gratefully. 'You were great.'

'Oh, it was nothing,' Jules said modestly.

'
Not
nothing, darling,' Chrissie said sententiously. 'It goes to show, boys and girls, what I've
always
believed. An
honest
day's work - whether it be spent in furnishing the good people of London with S & M knick-knacks or not is
quite
immaterial - is always,
always
rewarded.'

30 Daisy

It was the cake that did it in the end, and really tipped Daisy over the edge. Coming as it did towards the end of a pretty jaw-dropping evening, the cake made everything quite, quite clear, and she had no alternative but to speak out.

The cake in question had been baked specially to mark Raoul's birthday. Daisy remembered how he'd first begun talking about this important event several weeks ago, discussing various possible ways of celebrating. Should they fly to Rio? Or have a big private party at his favourite club, Les Bains-Douches? Or maybe do both? Then with only three days to spare before the big day, Raoul realised that he had run out of time to plan anything remotely complicated and so decided instead on a simpler, more homely sort of celebration - a dinner party at his flat with Daisy and his closest friends. Afterwards, he would take Daisy to Deauville for the weekend.

Although she had met a few of Raoul's many friends, Daisy had not yet been introduced to his inner circle, the people he referred to as his 'family', and she was curious to see what they were like - a bunch of extrovert machos, as likely as not, and all as obsessed with rugby as he was! The dinner party would also be a welcome distraction from her current state of mind: an overwhelming sense of listlessness that she had never experienced before and was at a loss to understand. This had been accompanied by a considerable increase in the frequency of her recurring dream. It had her wandering the dark, deserted streets of Paris almost every night, looking anxiously for something - or someone - she yearned for very powerfully, but never managed to find. If only she could work out what the dream meant!

When the doorbell rang for the first time on the night of his birthday dinner, Raoul was still shaving, and it was Daisy who answered the door. On the landing, holding a pile of presents wrapped in pink-and-gold paper, a bunch of flowers and a large oven dish covered in foil (for Raoul, who did not believe in wasting time on cooking when he could be enjoying himself, had had the foresight to ask each of his guests to bring a different course), stood two stunning girls. Daisy had a vague impression that she had met them somewhere before.

'
Salut
! You are Daisy, yes?' one of them, a blonde, exclaimed with a big smile. 'I'm Natacha.'

'And I'm Stephanie.
On a apporte des lasagnes
.'

'Oh, that's great! Thank you,' Daisy said, carrying the dish into the kitchen-diner. The two girls followed and removed their coats. They were both wearing extremely sexy dresses and vertiginous high heels, Daisy noticed. Natacha, the one with blue eyes and a spectacular mane of golden curls, immediately proceeded to set the oven to the right temperature. Meanwhile, Stephanie, an olive-skinned girl who was wearing a bright-red afro wig and huge gold hoop earrings, opened the fridge which Raoul had packed with magnums of pink champagne. She pulled out a bottle and opened it with a nonchalant swiftness that bespoke many years of practice. Daisy got some glasses from the counter and Stephanie began to pour the wine.

'So, Daisy,' she said, 'you're Raoul's famous
petite cherie anglaise
!'

'
Sante
!' Natacha said, clinking her glass with Daisy's. 'It's nice to meet you, finally.'

'Thank you,' Daisy said, touched by their friendliness. 'So we haven't met before?' she added, tentatively. 'Because I thought that we had, maybe?'

The doorbell rang again.

'I'll get it, baby,' Raoul called out from his bedroom.

A minute later he came into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a white shirt open to the navel, and forming the central element of a cluster of enthusiastic girls - four more guests had arrived and they were all hugging him, whooping all the while in excited Gallic voices:

'
Ouais! C'est la fete!
'

'
On va s'eclater ce soir!
'

'
C'est trop!
'

'
Wou-hou!
'

Natacha and Stephanie distributed glasses of champagne and Daisy was introduced to another four glamourpusses: Lola, Vanessa, Karine and Nathalie. All were dressed to the nines and smelled wonderful. It was weird, Daisy thought, looking at the new arrivals, because she had a nagging feeling that she might have seen
them
somewhere before, too. Raoul unwrapped dishes of
taboule
,
salade au Roquefort
, chilli con carne and
mousse au chocolat
and kissed every cook on the cheek. Lola, who wore a skintight spangly catsuit with thigh-high boots, and Karine, in a draped silver minidress and stilettos, walked over to the jukebox and put some music on. At the first notes of the 'Macarena', delighted squeals rose from every corner of Raoul's living room and all the girls leaped to their feet to form a line, hands on hips, and hop their way through the song's routine.

Raoul took Daisy by the hand. 'Come on, let's go dance.'

'Oh, I don't know the steps,' Daisy said hesitantly.

'Just follow the others,' Raoul said, demonstrating by hopping forwards and backwards in time to the music. '
Sympa, non
? They really know how to party, my friends, right? You're having fun? They're sweet, no? You like them?
Ehhhhh, Macarena!
'

'Oh, yes! They seem really nice,' Daisy said, surveying the scene as the doorbell rang again.

Shortly afterwards, as she sat on the white leather sofa with Melodie, Juanita and Patricia, all gorgeous sultry creatures in tiny dresses, wondering whether she might also have met
them
somewhere before, it occurred to Daisy to ask herself what was keeping all the male guests. Was there an important rugby game on or something?

Raoul emerged from the kitchen arm in arm with Vanessa, who carried off red satin hotpants and a matching boob tube with the easy confidence of the very slim and beautiful.

'OK,
les filles
!' Raoul called out, holding out a saucepan for Vanessa to bang on with a ladle. 'The food's ready. Come on, let's eat!'

Daisy signalled to him to come over and whispered in his ear, 'Don't you think we should wait a bit longer for the other guests?'

'What other guests? No, no, baby, everybody's here,' Raoul said, grinning. 'All my best buddies, yeah! Come on, everybody -
feeling hot, hot, hot!
' he sang out, pulling her to her feet and leading a stampede of singing girls into the kitchen. Daisy was staggered: so he had invited
no
men
at all
! Raoul really was outrageous!

The girls all climbed, with much giggling and pouting, onto the high diner stools of Raoul's kitchen counter. Dishes began to circulate and they helped themselves. Daisy, who sat next to Raoul, soon found herself deep in conversation about the Paris fashion scene with Patricia, a friendly model perched on her other side. Across from her, Vanessa and Melodie were discussing beauty treatments. Next to them, Nathalie, Lola and Juanita were talking about yoga retreat holidays. Natacha was telling Raoul about the songs she was recording for her next album. At the other end of the table, Karine and Stephanie, both dancers, were talking about their present contracts.

'So you like it at the Moulin Rouge?' Karine was asking, delicately sipping her champagne. 'Are they good guys?'

'Yes, I get on with all the dancers,' Stephanie replied breathily, chewing a small forkful of lasagne. 'A lot of my friends are in the company. But it doesn't really compare to the Crazy. You are so lucky to work there.'

Daisy pricked up her ears.
The Crazy
? Wasn't that the club Raoul had mentioned to her dad at Christmas, the one where they had the live nude show? Then Karine had to be ...

'
Eh oui
, it's still Froufrou des Jarretelles,' Karine was saying at that very moment in answer to a question from Vanessa. 'It's quite easy to remember and I guess it suits me, right?' she added with a sexy little shimmy. The other girls applauded, and there were a few cries of '
Ay, ay, caramba!
'

So! Karine used to go out with Raoul, Daisy thought with slight annoyance. Really, he might have warned her that one of his exes was coming tonight! Oh well, she told herself, philosophically, he probably thought that it didn't matter. After all, he was with her, Daisy, now, and if he'd kept on good terms with Karine, then good for him. Which was when Patricia said, 'You know, when
I
was with Raoul, he always used to eat chocolate chip cookies in bed. All those crumbs! They got everywhere. He doesn't still do that, I hope.'