From Paris With Love (10 page)

Edward rushed to help her up and she yelped with pain. A pinch of guilt nipped my chest as it looked like she’d fallen harder than I thought. Whilst the others held her upright, Edward flagged down a taxi. Eyes unusually narrow, he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at me.

‘You were nearest to her, Gemma, yet didn’t bother trying to get Monique back on her feet.’

‘You were quicker than a vampire and I was still taken by surprise that she fell.’

‘Really?’ A strange look crossed his face.

‘If I’d thought she was really injured I’d have been the first to step in,’ I said in a low voice. ‘It looked like the only wound was to her pride. But come on, who would blame me if I’d turned a blind eye? Monique’s done nothing but try to put me down, like trying to get me to speak French when it’s obvious I struggle. ’

Edward shook his head. ‘How wrong could you be? Moni has been terribly welcoming, inviting us out with her friends today. So what if she’s encouraging you to speak a foreign language? Why would you criticise her helpful nature?’

I swallowed. Yikes. She’d done a good job on him. My eyes tingled – for a flash he reminded me of the old uptight, stubborn Edward I’d first met last year, disapproval oozing out of him.

‘I’ll take Moni to the hospital for a once-over. Her friends are all busy,’ he said, in a detached voice. ‘She’s out of the show tonight – let’s just hope this doesn’t ruin her prospects for the whole run.’

He stared as if waiting for some explanation or response. I shifted uncomfortably. What was up with him?

‘Look, Edward… it’s not as if it was my fault.’

But his attention had returned to the patient. ‘Perhaps it’s best if I see you back home, Gemma – after the hospital, once I’ve dropped Moni off at her flat. There’s no point us both hanging around in Casualty,’ he muttered, without turning around.

A taxi pulled up several metres away, due to parked cars. So my Edward, my broad-shouldered hero, scooped
Monique
up into his arms. I watched his strong silhouette become distant, in the twilight, as they headed for the car.

‘What about dinner?’ I called after him.

‘Eat without me,’ he called back, over his shoulder, ‘and don’t concern yourself with waiting up.’

Chapter 8

Heart racing, I slipped my arm into Edward’s, as smoke arose around the dragon’s murky lair. Its head swung towards me. In the darkness, people screamed as the beast’s chains rattled. Would they break? The green creature’s jaw opened, revealing rows of spiky teeth…Through the cave’s dim light, huge eyes glowed yellow like lit coal.

I looked up at Edward and he actually smiled. Phew. At last. Since breakfast, during our underground journey and throughout our stroll along Disneyland Paris’ Main Street, he’d hardly uttered a word. At last, here at the foot of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, the fiery mechanical dragon seemed to have melted the cool which had hung around him like a soggy British rain cloud, from the moment he’d woken up. My reaction probably hadn’t helped, either, when he’d said, first thing:

‘Look, Gemma – Moni’s on her own today. Apart from Anton who’s got a writing deadline to meet, her other friends are performing in various matinee concerts and shows. How about…’ He’d cleared his throat. ‘You head off to Disney with Cindy and I’ll look after our new friend. She’s got to take two days off work. If her ankle’s no better this morning, she won’t be able to cook for herself. Last night the hospital doctor insisted she take it easy.’

I’d spluttered, spraying coffee across the laptop. ‘Edward! You hardly know her.’ My eyes had tingled. ‘Would you really rather spend the day with her, when you could meet Minnie Mouse?’

‘Don’t make me answer that,’ he’d said, and given a wry smile.

But I didn’t smile back. ‘What time did you get home last night?’

‘In the early hours. I accompanied her home in the taxi, helped her upstairs to her flat where I made us both an omelette. We found we had so much to talk about, and I didn’t even notice the hours passing,’ He gazed into the distance. ‘We both love the arts, don’t watch much television and could stand in museums for hours,’ He smiled fondly. ‘We both said how funny it was, how strange, to have so much in common with someone you hardly know.’ His tone had no hint of apology. Clearly he had no inkling that Monique pressed all my buttons, when it came to feeling inadequate.

‘Chatting with her reminded me of times bygone when I would talk about opera and historical literature, into the small hours with Mother,’ he continued. ‘Finally, however, tiredness dictated that I return home. You were asleep. I had no intention of waking you.’

‘Yeah, well she’ll probably be glad of a quiet day to herself, to relax,’ I said.

‘Perhaps.’ He’d given a tight smile. ‘Maybe it would be better if I dropped in to see her on the way back, tonight.

Without trusting myself to answer politely, I’d headed for a bath. A chill had descended – another glimpse of the old Edward, the one I’d got to know last year whilst in disguise. I didn’t like it. What was happening? Here, in awesome Paris, weren’t we supposed to be having the time of our lives?

Shutting out those thoughts, I stepped back from the dragon. ‘Come on, we’ve time to fit in one ride before meeting Cindy.’ I consulted the map we’d picked up at “City Hall”. We headed outside. The castle looked postcard pretty against a sky as blue as Cinderella’s ball dress. Trembling with excitement, I’d entered the park almost one hour ago and strolled dumbstruck – gazing at the immaculate, golf-course green lawns and litter-free paths. Mega Disney music played throughout the park. Oohing and aahing, I’d dashed from side to side along Main Street, shaking my head at the glossy, themed shops. Mouth-watering smells wafted from restaurants and horse-drawn streetcars clippety-clopped along. The reality exceeded every Disney fantasy I’d ever made up.

What’s more, just as I was contemplating buying a Donald Duck cap, the King of the Park strolled past – yes, Mickey Mouse, with his white jazz hands, red trousers and yellow bow tie. Screaming with delight, I’d raced towards him, my leopard-print handbag banging against my side. Bemused, Edward took a photo. I could die happy! This was fab!

Well, as long as I also got to meet my all-time favourite Disney characters, Simba from the Lion King and Mulan. Plus we HAD to go on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, swivel around in the Mad Hatter’s tea cups and experience Peter Pan’s flight…

No doubt you could guess that I’d spent many an hour during my childhood planning this trip – hoping that one day, Dad would win the lottery and book tickets.

‘Isn’t this terrific?’ I said, using one of Abbey’s favourite words, as Edward and me headed towards Frontierland – the Wild West area with piped banjo music, cowboy themed stores and a riverboat ride. Plus – due to Disney’s continual attention to detail – the smell of woodsmoke… In the distance I spotted the terracotta tip of notorious Thunder Mountain. Screams pierced the piped music as the runaway mine train hurtled around its peak. I wore my polka dot jumper – in honour of Minnie Mouse of course – and put comfort above fashion and wore my navy duffle coat, as it was so bloomin’ cold.

Feeling my ponytail swish from side to side in the bitter wind, I weaved my way between laughing adults and children, wrapped up in scarves and hats, and costumed “castmembers” there to help. February was one of the coldest times to visit the park, as it was in a valley, said Cindy, and she should have known. The sous chef was such a regular visitor that she’d stopped off in one of the Main Street cafés to chat with an American waitress she’d become mates with, over the last year.

So we’d split up and agreed to meet Cindy at half past eleven by her favourite ride: It’s a Small World. I tugged at the sleeve of Edward’s leather jacket, guiding him towards the thrilling Thunder Mountain.

‘Feeling brave?’ I said, as we joined the queue.

‘Absolutely – although why people would put themselves through this, I don’t know.’

‘Ever been to Alton Towers?’ I asked, already guessing the answer.

‘No.’

‘Then you’re in for a treat – it’s the adrenalin rush, you see…’

‘I’ll need some distraction, to keep me awake, during the half-an-hour wait here,’ he said huskily and leant in for a kiss.

Mmm. This queue could take as long as it liked, if it meant snogging my very own Prince Charming. Eventually, he stood back and we moved forward a couple of feet. I squeezed his hand.

‘I
am
sorry that Monique hurt herself, Edward. I’m sure she’ll be fine today. The ground was so wet – I’m not surprised she fell.’

He nodded.

‘It’s a good thing she’ll only miss one or two shows,’ I continued.

‘Isn’t her life story intriguing? Imagine having the courage, as a teenager, just to take off to Russia.’

Edward’s whole face lit up and a lump formed in my throat. His eyes looked all glittery, as I imagined mine had when Mickey Mouse gave me a hug. I forced my mouth to upturn higher. Honestly, could you make up something more romantic than someone secretly flying away to meet their Russian Bolshoi ballet boyfriend? No! How the blinkin’ ‘eck would I
ever
compete with that? Most of my romantic liaisons, at sixteen, were behind the bike sheds or at the youth club disco.

Finally we came to the front of the queue and sat down in the Thunder Mountain mine train. As it slowly chugged away, I wondered if Edward would scream. Of course he didn’t, not even when the ride built up speed. We turned corners sharply and plunged downwards, leaving our stomachs in the air, but there wasn’t a single peep from him. Not even when the train plummeted into darkness, whereas I hollered so loudly, my throat hurt… Jeez this was fantastic. Magnificent. I wanted to live here! I wanted a season ticket! Forget cookery, I’d become a Disney castmember!

Finally the train came to a halt and, laughing, legs like one of JC’s wobbly jelly terrines, I followed Edward out of my seat. Chest heaving, I glanced at my watch and consulted at the map.

‘We’d better get to It’s a Small Word,’ I said. ‘That ride’s more civilised and Cindy will be waiting…’ I grinned. ‘So, what did you think?’

‘To what?’ said Edward and smoothed down his honey curls.

I raised my eyebrows and he chuckled.

‘Okay, I admit it – Thunder Mountain was a thrill. I’m impressed how authentic the mountain looks and the castmembers are super professional.’

I grabbed his hand, swinging it as we headed to Fantasyland. However, It’s a Small World impressed him a little bit less. Whereas I was gobsmacked by the massive rainbow-coloured house containing loads of cute, singing animatronic dolls, Edward hardly reacted. As we completed the boat ride, he even glanced discreetly at his phone. To think, before meeting me last September, he hardly knew how to text.

‘Gee whizz,’ said Cindy, as we all got back onto dry land. She wore jeans, red Converse trainers, a T-shirt saying something about Star Trek – clearly she was a movie buff – and a Disneyland Paris bomber jacket. ‘You do realise, folks, that we ain’t ever gonna get that Small World song out of our heads.’

‘La lala, la laaaaa, la lala, la laaaaa,’ she and I sang. Then suddenly I thought of sophisticated Monique and, feeling a bit immature, stopped warbling. I remembered how my dad and brothers had all said that, since meeting Edward, I’d finally grown up; chosen a career, given myself goals. Although secretly, a part of me was glad that I still had my occasional silly side.

Edward pointed to a café. ‘How about a hot drink, ladies?’

But he was too late – Cindy and I had spotted the Mad Hatter’s swivelling teacups and, unable to ignore this dream ride, we all hurried towards the queue. Monique’s friend Anton had been right – as I looked around, from the adults’ faces you could tell they’d never grown out of loving their favourite cartoons. Or if they had, five minutes in this place had transported them back to their childhood.

I glanced at Edward and tried to work out if his show of enthusiasm was fake. Perhaps the problem was that he’d hardly watched a Disney film as a child, so there wasn’t that glowing nostalgic sensation in his chest. Snow White, Aladdin and Buzz Lightyear didn’t feel like old pals. Whilst Cindy and Edward kept my place, I scooted over to a nearby sweet stand to buy popcorn. As I paid the cheerful vendor and turned to go, a man in a black suit sidled up to me, tall, with flash cufflinks and greased-back hair.

‘How are you getting on, Agent G?’ said John Smith, with a wink.

The thrill I got from being called that equalled the rush I got from any rollercoaster ride!

‘What are you doing here?’ I said, in a low voice, and kept looking straight ahead.

‘Following up on some leads about several castmembers employed from the more exotic corners of the earth… There’s some pretty little things amongst them as well.’

Ick.

‘Well, I’ve nothing big to report yet – I managed to get into the laptop though, and am checking all the staff’s emails daily,’ I said. ‘There is no mention of MiddleWin Mort. Just stuff about food orders and special offers being sent out to regular customers.

‘Fair enough,’ said John Smith, his eye caught by a group of young women dressed in Disney uniform walking by. ‘Right. See you around.’ And with that, he headed off.

Chomping popcorn, I made my way back to the teacup ride.

‘Is that wise?’ said Edward, eyes twinkling, and he leant forward to gently wipe a piece of popcorn from the corner of my mouth. ‘Eat that now and you’ll feel as sick as a sailor, after you’ve spun around in one of those cups.’

‘You need to loosen up, Edward,’ said Cindy and giggled. ‘It’s all part of the experience, throwing up, after a ride. Of course, if you’re a lightweight…’ She helped herself to the snack. ‘Go get yourself a coffee over yonder. Leave the tough stuff to us gals.’

‘No, don’t!’ I grasped his arm. ‘This ride won’t take long – then we can all grab a hotdog and ice cream.’

‘No, no, I’ve been told…’ Edward grinned at Cindy. ‘And it’s a sensible idea, actually, if neither of you mind. I promised to ring Moni – just to check she was doing okay. In fact…’ He took out his phone. ‘I’ll arrange a time to drop in on her, on the way home.’