Shallow Be Thy Grave (23 page)

He smiled and pressed his own lips close to her ear. “I’ll get this round. What would you like?”

The ‘what would you like,’ sounded impossibly intimate and Lily felt herself blush. She’d drunk four bottles of beer over tea, and was already feeling a pleasant numbing of the senses. While Stuart was at the bar, Lily let her eyes drift around the room, seeing if she could spot Alain but she couldn’t see any sign of him. Bored topless women gyrated on stage, but to Lily’s surprise, most people weren’t paying any attention to them. Jo was being chatted up by half a dozen French blokes, none of whom were uneasy on the eye, although they seemed to have a New Romance thing going on which Lily wasn’t personally that keen on. Lily had clocked at least half a dozen transvestites on the dance-floor, and was trying to decide whether the pissed up blokes, lewdly rubbing up against them, knew what they were letting themselves in for.

Stuart reappeared at her side and handed her a beer. The music was all English, Hi NRG and Lily felt herself relax as a mild drunkenness and the familiar surroundings of a dark nightclub seeped into her consciousness. These were the places and the times she was at her happiest. Anonymous in a crowd. “It’s great to see you again, you know,” Stuart was saying and she realised she’d had her eyes closed. “I, well, I’ve missed you.”

She drank a mouthful of beer as she watched Jo throw back her head and laugh like a drain. “It’s been hard,” Lily said, finally acknowledging the distance between them.

“I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”

“We were never friends, you know that,” said Lily, swigging her beer.

Stuart grinned and Lily’s heart lurched. “Whatever we were, I don’t see why we can’t be it again.”

“Yes you do. We started on the wrong vibe. You were my sister’s boyfriend.”

“But Fiona said-”

“I felt, feel too bad. Maybe, when we’ve found her, maybe then we can talk about it.”

He was standing close to her, ostensibly because the music was so loud and he had to speak into her ear. “You mean that? Once we’ve found Fiona?”

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and it felt beautiful. She felt a glimmer of possibility. “Maybe.”

“Have you, I mean, are you seeing anyone?”

Lily looked at him like he’d gone crazy. “God, no.” She cast her mind back over the past year. It was almost true. There wasn’t a single sexual experience with anyone she’d been even tempted to see in daylight. She tried to force some of the thoughts, flashes of memory from her head. “What about you?”

Stuart smiled, a small, rueful smile. “No one’s even come close. I think I might be a one-woman-man. There’s no hope for me.”

Lily laughed as Modern Talking’s
Brother Louie
started playing. Jo was throwing herself around the dance floor with a couple of the transvestites. 

Half an hour later Lily was watching Jo trying to climb onto the podium, alongside the topless women, having been bought a beer by practically every man in the place. “J’aime le Francais,” she kept shouting out every time Lily caught eye contact with her. Lily wondered how she’d ever get her to leave this place. Stuart had disappeared to the toilets. 

“Bonsoir,” said a low husky voice in her ear and immediately her skin pricked with goose bumps. She turned round to see Alain smiling at her, his gold earring making him look a bit George Michael in his
Careless Whisper
phase. The barman immediately delivered two bottles of beer and Alain handed one to Lily. “You are here alone?”

“No, that’s my mate,” she pointed to Jo, who was doing something that looked more like limboing than dancing.

“Ah, good. I ask also my friend to come. He is, he works at the patisserie. He brings the food to the people at the apartments. Sometimes. I think maybe he should look at the pictures too. He see more of the people than me.”

Lily saw Stuart making his way back from the toilets. “Oh and Stuart’s here. He’s, he’s my sister’s ex boyfriend,” she explained and then immediately felt uncomfortable. But that was the truth, she rushed to remind herself. It’s not like she’d told a lie or anything. Even so she could feel her cheeks flush as Stuart joined them, could feel him taking in every part of Alain’s tall broad physique. It wasn’t her fault the man was attractive, she thought. She was seeing him purely as a means to finding out what had happened to Fiona. Nothing more. She stood a little taller. Stuart seemed as equally displeased to see Alain as Alain appeared to see Stuart, and Lily found herself taking rather large gulps of her beer. “So, shall I show you the photos?” asked Lily.

“Later. Perhaps a cafe. Here it is too...”

He struggled to find the word. “Dark?” asked Lily.

“Dark. Exactly.” He grinned at her and she was reminded again of gypsies. “How long you stay?”

“What tonight?” Lily was already starting to feel like it was past bedtime. But then she glanced across the room to Jo, who was drinking beer from a bottle as she danced, and Lily knew she was in for a long night. “An hour, maybe more.”

Alain smiled. “No, I mean Paris. How long you stay in Paris?”

“Just ’til we find Fiona,” said Stuart. He was shouting to be heard above the music, but his voice sounded harsher than it needed to.

“I wish you stay longer,” said Alain, ignoring Stuart and speaking only to Lily.

“Their grandfather’s died,” said Stuart, still shouting. “We want to get Fiona home before the funeral.”

“Funeral?”

“Funerailles.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” said Alain, speaking only to Lily again. “He must have been happy, he has such a beautiful how you say?” he turned to Stuart “Petite-fille.”

“Granddaughter,” said Stuart, rolling his eyes.

“Granddaughter,” said Alain. It sounded sexier when he said it, Lily caught herself thinking. Mind you, the man could stand in the street shouting abuse and it would still sound good, something about that low down smokers’ growl he had going on. As if he could read her mind, he lit two Marlboro and passed one to her.

Lily could see Stuart raising his eyebrows behind Alain’s back.  Before she could think of anything witty to say, a tall man slapped Alain on the shoulder. He was dark-skinned and wearing a black leather jacket and a silver earring. Alain laughed and the two of them conversed in rapid French. Lily didn’t have a clue what they were saying, but from the way Alain’s smile reached all the way up to his eyes, she took it they were good friends. “He’s a complete flake,” Stuart whispered in her ear.

“I’m not after marrying the guy,” she hissed back. “I only want him to look at the photograph.”

At that moment Jo came staggering off the dance floor and joined them at the bar. Sweat was making her mohican flop over to one side, and the sides of her head were glistening. Lily was glad of some female company.  Too much testosterone was making her tetchy. “Jeez, this music is so cheese,” said Jo, wiping the sweat from the sides of her head on her T-shirt. “Fantastic. Hi.”

“Bonsoir,” said Alain bending to kiss her hand. “I love your hair.”

“Thanks.”

“This is my friend, Marcel.”

Jo kissed Marcel on both cheeks, before Lily did the same, although she was careful not to make any body contact. She still wasn’t sure about this kissing business.

“So,” said Jo, “you’re the guy from the apartments? 

“Oui. Marcel, he come there also. He is,” he glanced at Stuart “how you say courier?”

“Courier,” said Stuart, his jaw set tight.

Alain appeared not to notice. “He bring food parcels, from the Patisserie. So I ask him, maybe he know your sister too.” He put an arm around Lily’s shoulders. “We help you find your English girl in Paris.”

“Fantastic,” said Jo.  Lily tried to shake Alain’s arm off by pretending to have difficulty pulling the photographs from her inside pocket.

Alain put a hand on her arm. “But not here. A cafe.”

He finished his beer and then gestured to them all to leave. They followed him out in a line, past the dance-floor. Stuart pulled Lily to one side. “Is there any point me coming? I mean I don’t want to cramp your style.” The music was so loud Lily couldn’t tell whether there was any bitterness in his voice.

Jo turned round from her conversation with Alain. “You’re probably right, Stu. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the French bloke, it’s that he likes the undivided attention of the English woman. Why don’t me and Lily go with these two and see you back at the flat in an hour or so?”

Stuart looked furious and Lily had to fight not to let herself look at him in the eyes. “Can’t you see what he’s trying to do?” asked Stuart.

“He might be able to help,” she argued.

“They just want to get the two of you on your own. He’s on the make. It’s bleeding obvious.”

“Well, trust me, I’m not. I just want to find out where my sister is and these guys might be able to help.”

Stuart shrugged. “Alright then, off you go. I’ll stay here and finish my beer. I’ll see you later.”

Lily knew he was pissed off but she tried to pretend she didn’t. “Ok, I’ll see you in a bit.” She kissed him on the cheek. “We won’t be long.”

They emerged from the nightclub onto the dark pavement. Lily tried to work out what time it was. Probably past two. Alain grinned his gypsy grin at her. He was so handsome, taller than Stuart, more masculine somehow, like a real grown up. Broad-shouldered. He wore a silver chain around his left wrist. She loved jewellery on men, which was weird because she never wore any herself. “So, we take you to best cafe in Paris.”

They strolled down the street, the four of them, until they came to a black motorbike parked by the kerb.  Alain slowed and handed Lily a helmet from the back of the bike. Lily looked at Jo. “What about Jo?”

“Marcel. His bike just around the corner.” Alain nodded further down the street.

Lily felt alarmed, but Jo didn’t seem to mind being split up. She linked arms with Marcel and nodded encouragingly to Lily. “Ok. We’ll see you there.”

Lily took the helmet Alain was holding out, a small white one with a peaked visor. She was already wishing they hadn’t left Stuart, wondered if it was too late to run back for him. But everyone was staring at her, like what was she doing, so she pulled the helmet down onto her head, feeling her heart rate quicken as she did. She was about to get on the back of a bike with a complete stranger, in a city she didn’t know at all. “How far is it to this cafe?”

“Two minutes,” said Alain.

“Can’t we walk?” asked Lily, but Alain was already straddling the bike and firing the engine into life. Jo gave her a cheerful wave.

“See you there,” she called as she strode off down the street arm in arm with Marcel.

Lily wondered where Jo got her optimism from, her sense of certainty. She always seemed to believe that everything would turn out ok. “See you there,” Lily mumbled, more as a prayer than a certainty.

Alain pulled back the throttle and Lily felt the nerves welling up in her stomach as she climbed on the back of the bike behind him.

Lily counted the seconds on the back of the bike. Two minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds. All she had to do was count to one hundred and twenty and if they weren’t there by the time she got to two hundred, then she would know certain death, and possible rape and torture, were imminent. She closed her eyes and grabbed on to the back of Alain’s jacket. The smell of burning rubber filled her nostrils and she felt a rush of adrenaline hit her stomach at the same time as the rush of air ripped through her denim jacket.

By the time she’d counted to 30, she’d opened her eyes.  The neon lights of the city blurred into one as they flew down the centre of the road. The night air was still warm on her face, warm and muggy. She pressed her face into Alain’s back, ostensibly as protection from the wind, but really to smell the maleness of him. She gave up counting before she reached sixty.

Having reconciled herself with death – in a it’s better to burn out than to fade away kind of a way - she was almost disappointed when they pulled up outside a cafe. Despite it being the early hours of the morning, people were sitting at tables outside on the pavement, drinking coffee and eating ice creams. Lily couldn’t believe the civility of it all. Where were the hordes of pissed students, falling out of nightclubs, buying greasy kebabs and throwing up in gutters on their way home?

 Alain parked the bike and took off his helmet and grinned at her again. Lily felt her heart leap, maybe with the joy of still being alive, maybe with the thought of how interested he seemed in her. He threw an arm around her shoulders, casually but she felt like she belonged to him. She felt glad to belong to him, to belong to someone in this sea of strangers. “Nescafe?”

It seemed weird to follow the bottles of beer with a black coffee, but when in Rome, thought Lily, or even in Paris. She almost giggled. For the first time in her life she felt cosmopolitan, there was no other word for it. Here she was, little Lily Appleyard, from Accrington, sitting in a French cafe, a Parisian cafe, at almost two o’clock in the morning, with a handsome stranger, drinking the smallest cup she’d even seen, of bitter, black coffee. The caffeine entered her bloodstream like speed.

He was staring so intently at her, she took the photographs of Fiona from her inside pocket, just for distraction. He’d already seen the picture of them on the log flume, already confirmed that he’d seen her. What Lily was wanting from him, well… she couldn’t put it into words. She put the top picture down on the small wicker topped table in front of Alain. It was the most recent one of Fiona she’d been able to find, looking young and fresh faced. And French, Lily thought. “My sister.”

He lifted the photograph up, held it close to his face, so close that Lily started to wonder whether he had eye problems. If he needed glasses, she wasn’t sure she should be getting back on the motorbike with him. Her body was wired from the coffee.

“You can tell you are sisters,” he said, searching her with his eyes. “You are looking the same in this part of the face,” he circled her mouth and the tip of her nose with his forefinger. Her skin yelped with excitement.