I Heart Paris (25 page)

She might what? She might what?

‘I do not think you will be able to convince her to leave easily and I have told you, Cici, she emailed your Mary to say that you sent her to all the wrong places. Will this not be a problem?’

Of course not, I thought bitterly, nothing was a problem for Cici. She was a Spencer. So sending me that list of crappy places wasn’t just her idea of a joke, she was actually trying to get rid of me. God, what was wrong with that girl?

‘Cici, you know I do not like this,’ Virginie whined down the phone. ‘I know what we said, but I like her. Distracting her from the article was not so hard, but this is not fair. It is her life, not just one job.’

I ran my ring fingers under each eye to wipe away a couple of stray tears. She was seriously trying to ruin me? And Virginie was in on it? She really was a
Belle
girl after all. I was so stupid. Of course she wasn’t that nice! No one was that nice! And thinking about it, I’d made so many excuses for things that didn’t add up just because I liked her. When would I learn my lesson? People just couldn’t be trusted.

‘Maybe she will decide on her own,’ she said. ‘There is nothing really for her to stay in New York for. She might be happier back in London?’

I peered around the corner as Cici squealed loudly down the phone, causing Virginie to pull it away from her ear sharply.

‘I know you do not care if she is happy, but I am not happy either,’ she sighed. ‘I have done everything you asked. Have you spoken to Donna?’

She was biting her short nails, nodding into the phone. ‘Cici, this was our deal, you will definitely be able to get me the visa, yes?’

The nodding shifted into a shake and her pretty pout turned into a hard, thin line. ‘
Non
, I can get the interview myself, it is the visa I need.’

I hadn’t actually seen Virginie look genuinely angry before, but weirdly, it was far more reassuring than her super perky super fan act. I recognized this, it was human. Even if it was a human who had shat on me completely.

‘You cannot do that!’ she shouted at the phone. ‘I did what you asked, I cannot make someone to move to another country. Cici, you made a promise—’

I walked around the corner, clutching the strap of my bag for strength.

‘Angela!’ Virginie snapped back into smily mode, although really not fast enough. ‘I came outside to find you.’

For a moment I just stood and stared. Then, all at once, everything just exploded in my mind. My suitcase getting blown up, Jenny not talking to me, tripping over Alex’s stupid shoes and bashing my face in, screwing up the
Belle
article, Alex deciding he didn’t want me to move in any more, Solène announcing that she was taking Alex back, how much I missed Louisa, her having a baby, and now this. There really weren’t words for how incredibly pissed off I was. So I didn’t bother with words. I slapped her right around the face.

‘Angela!’ she yelled, her hands flying up. I stared at my palm, wow, that was way more painful than I thought it was going to be. But ultimately, pretty satisfying. Even the voices in my head were stunned into silence. A small crowd had gathered beside us, split between whispering and whooping. Wiggling my fingers, I looked at Virginie, shrugged and turned my back on the whole sorry situation. Really, I was feeling better by the second. Not that violence solved anything. It just really, really helped sometimes.

‘Angela, please wait,’ Virginie pleaded, following me down the street. ‘Angela!’

‘Oh, just don’t.’ I kept on walking, feeling strangely light-headed. ‘I heard all of it. Just, seriously, leave me alone.’

‘No, I wasn’t, I–you heard?’ she asked, planting herself in the street in front of me.

‘I heard,’ I confirmed. ‘So piss off.’

‘But I had no choice,’ Virginie protested. ‘I will tell you everything. I am applying for a beauty assistant position on US
Belle
, but I cannot get the visa I need. Cici said she could help.’

‘Cici never helps anyone,’ I said, trying to dodge past her, but she kept weaving in front of me. ‘Which I thought you knew.’ I stopped, sighed and pushed her out of the way.

‘I did not lie, we were not friends.’ Virginie ran along beside me. No point trying to lose her, she really was too fast. ‘She found out I had applied for the job and asked if I would help you with your article. I really am a fan of your blog, you are my inspiration.’

‘What part of my being your inspiration inspired you to completely fuck me over?’ I asked, stopping at last. More because I was lost than because I wanted to hear her out. It was so much harder to get lost in New York. Paris might be beautiful, but it was a pain in the arse to find your way around.

‘At first I believed I would be helping with your article, this is why I agreed,’ she said quickly. ‘But after I accepted the job, I spoke with Cici and she said that your boss was worried that
Belle
was bad for your career, that she did not want you to do it, but you told her you would do it whatever, and then she told Cici she would fire you.’

‘And you believed her?’

‘
Belle
is not good for everyone,’ Virginie admitted. ‘It is not good for nice people.’

‘Do you know what I was about to say?’ I laughed. Ooh, I felt weird. ‘I was going to say that you’re nice and you work at
Belle
. How stupid am I?’

‘I know I am not nice,’ she said far too easily. ‘But I want to work in New York more than anything. And Cici tells me that you are really a bitch so I was not feeling too bad. Until I met you.’

‘Cici said I was a bitch,’ I repeated. ‘Wow, pot, kettle, black.’

‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’ Virginie reached out to grab my forearm. ‘But I know you are not a bitch. I am a bitch, but I can help you with the article still. I am very sorry, I was wrong, but I very much still want to come to New York.’

‘I don’t need your help,’ I lied, pretty certain that I did. ‘The article is looking OK, I’ll get it sorted. And you can stop trying to get me back on side because you’ve been busted. You’re both buggered, you and Cici bloody Spencer.’

‘OK is not enough for
Belle
,’ Virginie pointed out. ‘Please let me help. I was very stupid to help Cici, I know. I feel horrible.’

‘Well, you should,’ I said, removing her hand from my arm. ‘You made a deal with the devil. I hope it bites you on the arse.’

Fairly certain I was heading in the right direction, I left Virginie in the street and half walked, half ran down the street, back to the hotel.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Twenty minutes and a couple of wrong turns later, I found myself back in the hotel reception, panting heavily and trying very hard to look as if I was interested in leaflets for Disneyland while I got my breath back. Behind the reception desk, Alain stood staring at me, a smile on his face, but terror in his eyes. Granted, I must have looked a little bit scary, all smudged make-up and yellowing black eye, but at least I wasn’t drunk. Well, I might have been a little bit drunk, technically, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t know how I felt.

‘
Bonsoir, Mademoiselle
Clark,’ Alain said after an awkwardly long moment of silence. ‘How are you this evening?’

‘I’m OK,’ I replied, fumbling in my bag for the hotel room key. I knew it was in there somewhere. Because unlike everything else in my life, this bag was the one thing that would never let me down. ‘I think I’m OK.’

‘Can I get anything for you?’ he asked, his tone sounding a little relieved.

‘No, I’m good,’ I said, finding the key and holding it up triumphantly, shaking off whatever was stuck to it.

‘
D’accord
.’ He smiled, looking back down at his computer monitor or just possibly away from me.

I reached down to pick up the stray piece of paper stuck to my room key, eager not to have Alain add ‘litterbug’ to his existing list of ‘drunk’, ‘crazy’ and ‘naked’. But it wasn’t a stray piece of paper, it was the envelope Louisa had given me. I tore it open and pulled out a photograph. It was a candid shot of us from her wedding day. We were outside in the gardens, after the ceremony, and she was tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear while I held both of our bouquets. As usual, she looked composed and flawless while I looked like an impatient toddler. Formal wear was not where I was most comfortable, she might as well have been spitting on a tissue and wiping chocolate ice cream from my face. The sun shone fiercely behind us, almost bleaching out Louisa’s pale blonde hair and glinting off my engagement ring. I was engaged. But the main thing that looked strange were the smiles on our faces. We were happy. Really, really happy.

I sank down on to one of the transparent chairs in the lobby and stared at the photo. It didn’t even look like me any more, no matter how hard I stared, I just couldn’t find myself in that girl. She looked content and relaxed and her only concern was how much longer she’d be able to stay upright in four-inch heels. Of course, that girl was also completely clueless as to the fact that her fiancé would be shagging his tennis partner in the back of their car in a couple of hours. But she wouldn’t be for much longer. I ran a finger over the picture, settling on my diamond ring. Wow, I was engaged. Actually engaged to be married. It seemed like such a foreign, grown-up concept right now. Sliding the photo back into the envelope before it could do any more damage, I looked blankly at the floor. It was only a year ago. A year ago tomorrow and yet it felt like a lifetime.

‘
Mademoiselle
Clark?’ Alain was at my side with a box of tissues before I even realized I was crying.

‘Alain, do you have a schedule for the Eurostar?’ I asked, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand and trying to take a subtle swipe at my runny nose at the same time. ‘For tonight?’

‘I believe the last train has left for this evening,’ he replied, pulling out tissue after tissue. Once I’d started, I really couldn’t stop. ‘Would you like me to check times for tomorrow?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said, shoving the envelope clumsily back into my bag. He disappeared behind his computer monitor and made some faraway tapping noises. I sat still in the chair, as big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks and splash on to the floor. I didn’t know entirely what I was doing, but at least I was doing something.

‘The first train leaves at seven-thirteen a.m. There are seats available if you would like me to book you on this train?’

I stared into my handbag and gripped the envelope tightly. I didn’t take the photograph out, I just looked at Louisa’s flowery handwriting against the brown paper. It just said ‘For Angela’ with so many kisses that her pen had started to run out. Louisa always did overdo things.

‘Yes, please book it.’ I snapped out of my trance and looked up at Alain. ‘And can you book me a taxi to get me there on time?’

‘But of course.’ He nodded curtly. ‘You would like a wake-up call to your room also?’

‘No, no, I’ll get myself up, don’t worry,’ I said, remembering how to use my legs. ‘Thanks Alain.’

‘And what time would you like to return to Paris?’ he asked, still tapping away on the computer. Efficiency, thy name was Alain.

‘Erm, don’t worry about it.’ I felt very, very sick even as I said it. ‘I’ll sort it out from that end.’

Alain looked up, not scared of me any more, and there was definite concern in his expression. ‘And it is just one ticket that you will need?’

I nodded. Words were gone again.

‘
D’accord
, your ticket is booked for the seven-thirteen, your taxi will collect you from reception at six a.m. and I will have everything printed out for you in the morning. Shall I charge this to the room?’

‘Erm, no, stick it on this.’ I handed him my company credit card. May as well make the most of it while I had it.

‘All booked,’ Alain confirmed, handing the card back to me. ‘
Bonsoir, Mademoiselle
.’

I managed a tiny, tight smile and headed for my room, holding on to the brown paper envelope inside my handbag all the way.

When I was safely inside the room, I stripped off my clothes, everything felt grubby and used. Rifling around under my pillow in the darkness, I pulled out the T-shirt and pair of Alex’s boxers that I’d been sleeping in and slipped them on in silence. The room seemed huge tonight. I flicked the lamp on beside the bed and pulled open my drawer. There was my passport. I took it out and dropped it into my handbag. Ahh, my handbag. There really was an argument for that being the only good thing that had happened to me this entire year. I took out clean underwear, a T-shirt and the clean leggings that had been delivered by the hotel laundry and laid them on the back of a chair. As much as I was still heartbroken for all the beautiful things I had lost, this new minimalist lifestyle did have its benefits. No need to worry about what to wear.

My plan was to avoid talking to Alex at all. I would pretend to be asleep when he got back from the concert, and tomorrow morning, I would just sneak out without a word. Graham was right, we did need to talk about all this stuff, but I couldn’t, not just yet. Too much had happened too quickly. Less than a week ago, I thought I was coming to Paris with my boyfriend for his birthday and then returning to the States to move in with him. Now, here I was being told that a) he didn’t want to move in with me, b) he was getting back together with his ex and c) I might not be going back to the US at all. I needed to get my head together and I couldn’t do that here. I could however, do it from Louisa’s spare room, watching
Hollyoaks
and eating shitloads of Galaxy Minstrels. Picking up the phone, I prayed that she still turned the ringer off at night, and dialled her number, slightly surprised that I still knew it by heart. Relief, answerphone.

‘Hey, Louisa,’ my voice sounded flat and crackly, as if I’d been doing tequila shots and karaoke all night long, ‘um, I’m on my way to yours. My train gets into London at about eight-thirty or something. I’ll call you when I get there. Love you.’

I skipped washing my face for fear of having to look in a mirror again and slid between the cool, white sheets, sticking my BlackBerry underneath my pillow, the alarm set to vibrate. At least it was useful for something. I felt like a zombie. I’d been through so many emotions in one day, I was just all out. It just wasn’t possible that it was less than four hours since I’d waved goodbye to Louisa. I turned over to stare up at the ceiling, staring at a pretty print on the wall. If it weren’t for the lovely Alain, I would be totally stealing that right now. Closing my eyes, I rolled over on to my side and waited to hear the key in the door.