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I stare out of the window as we speed along the busy streets of Paris all the while thinking about what will happen if I get a positive result on the pregnancy test tomorrow. Well, I’ve got to tell Daniel for a start, because we agreed, no more secrets, and, whether I’m pregnant or not, I’ve also got to tell him about my one-night stand with Ronan because the guilt is killing me.
Daniel leans across me and stares up at the city, “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Hmm,” I murmur, smiling. He sighs contently, eyes sparkling with anticipation, then he leans back and whips out a map from his inside pocket, spreads it across his strong thighs and starts planning. His black-rimmed square glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, he’s gelled his hair and combed it neatly to the side today, reminding me a little of Clark Kent in Superman.
I ogle him, a little bewitched by his stunning good looks. Fifty years old today, who’d believe it? He doesn’t look a day over forty. He’s too busy talking to notice me staring. I cuddle up close to him, I don’t want to spoil his day. It isn’t his fault that I’ve been such an irresponsible twat.
He tells me that from Notre Dame we’ll walk along the River Seine and then make our way to the Louvre so that I can see the Mona Lisa, then we’ll find somewhere cosy to eat. There won’t be time to do much else. He’s got it all planned out. He’s so efficient. So in control, it’s good to see him smiling again. Am I really about to pull the rug from under his feet?
I lean back, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the Parisian streets. This is my third visit to Paris. I first came here when I was little with my parents when they had the travel business. Apart from a visit to the Eifel Tower on the last day, a disgruntled George and I got dragged from hotel to hotel while they carried out their research for their weekend break brochure. My second visit was with Nick when we first got together. He was on a photoshoot at the time. I followed him around like a crazed groupie from venue to venue, ogling at the gorgeous models as they strutted around the studio in their designer outfits. We took cabs everywhere; his sense of direction is worse than mine. There was no time for sightseeing but we did dine in some lovely restaurants and quenched our thirst in some snazzy bars and nightclubs.
Daniel grabs my hand and smiles brightly as the sun streams through the window, warming my face. I raise a hand, shielding the brilliant sunlight as the driver rides a kerb, almost knocking down a pedestrian. I quickly grab Daniel’s arm for support as we bounce around on the back seat. Holding me in his arms protectively, he asks if I’m okay, then in a raised, annoyed tone tells the driver to slow down.
I pull away. “It’s okay, Daniel, I’m fine,” I say, but I’m a nervous wreck. I can’t believe that I’ve treated Daniel in the same abominable manner that Nick treated me. Only worse, because I was only estranged from Daniel for a few hours and he wasn’t even aware that we’d broken up! I squeeze his hand unintentionally and he reciprocates the gesture, grinning at me warmly.
We travel in companionable silence for a while, taking in the scenery. Maybe Vicky was right, I was a bit harsh with Nick. I can see now how one stupid mistake can mess up your life - how one mad, drunken night of passion can turn your world upside down. Daniel, clearly sensing my tension, stretches his arm across the back of my seat and pivots towards me.
“Are you still upset about your bag?” I’d forgotten about that until he just reminded me. Outside Kings Cross station this morning as I climbed out of a black cab, my fabric Louis Vuitton bag slid off my shoulder and landed in a huge muddy puddle near a drain. Once inside the station, we tried cleaning the muck off but it was no use. My bag was destroyed, but that’s the least of my worries.
I shake my head and pat the bag on my knees. The stains have dried out leaving huge, dark watermarks. “No, it’s okay,” I say, “it’s just a bag.”
He studies me for a while and then, “Look,” he sighs, face serious, “I know you’re upset and I can understand how dreadful you must be feeling right now.” My heart picks up a little speed. What does he mean? “But you needn’t worry, you know. Look at me. That’s my girl. It’s going to be fine. I promise you.” Our eyes lock and for a few hazy moments, I wonder if he knows. If he’s somehow guessed, but how could he? The car swerves and I fall onto him again, the driver hoots his horn and swears loudly in French, so much for slowing down. We straighten up. “I’ve spoken to Aliki and we’re going to tell Connie on Saturday night.” Yes, of course, his confession to Connie. What was I thinking?
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, no.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
“We’ll be fine.” I nod as we pull into the taxi bay at Notre Dame, feeling a little like a third-party, a spare part. It’ll always be ‘them’ and ‘me’, won’t it? It’ll never be ‘us’.
We join the crowds of tourists snapping away at the huge Gothic cathedral with their cameras, mobile phones, and iPads. I gaze up the beautiful stained-glass windows, the intricate sculptures carved into the aged stone walls. Daniel told me earlier that many date back to the thirteenth century. Simply breath-taking.
Inside the cathedral, we wander around in awe. I wonder how much craftsmanship went into creating the interior of this epic building. I stare up at the high arched ceilings to the magical sound of a keyboard, wrapping me in an embrace of sanctuary. I’ve never been very religious but I find myself in front of Christ on the Cross. I close my eyes.
“Dear Lord, what am I going to do? I’ve betrayed my partner (although he did betray me too in a way because he didn’t tell me about his first marriage and everything, just so that you know it’s not ALL my fault). Anyway, I know you don’t hear from me much and I’m probably not worthy of your grace. I’m sure you’ve got more important Godly things to do but please, if you’ve got a few spare moments, I just want some clarity, some direction. I’m not sure what to do about my dilemma. I’ve got no one to turn to. I can’t confide in Ronan because then he’d tell Tina. And telling Nick doesn’t bear thinking about. Louise is the only one who could really help me and she’s off the bloody radar. Oh no, I said bloody. I’m sorry, Lord. Oh, I said it again. Oh, shit.” I take a deep breath. “Okay, sorry about that. The swearing, I mean. Right, where was I? Oh yes. Look, I’m not even sure if I’m pregnant, but if I am…”
“Didn’t have you down as being religious.” Daniel’s arms around my waist make me jump. He nestles his chin on my shoulder as people wander around, immersed in the architecture and tranquillity of the basilica, their voices inaudible whispers.
“I’m not.” I clear my throat and face him. “Not really.”
“Here.” He presses a gold medal in my hand and I shiver. “This is for you,” he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead, “it’ll bring you luck.” He winks mischievously. “You’ll see.”
I turn the gold Notre Dame medallion in the palm of my hand. It feels strong and cool, and somehow significant. I narrow my eyes as Nick’s words jump into my mind. “I saw you holding a gold coin in the palm of your hand. You weren’t even in this country, you seemed far away.”
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, staring at the coin in my open hand.
Daniel laughs. “Well, I knew you’d like it but it’s not that grand. It only cost me two euros. Audrey? Are you okay? You’ve gone a bit pale. You’re not feeling sick again, are you? We could go out for some air if…”
“No, no, I’m fine now. And thank you,” I add quickly. “It’s lovely.” I close my hand around it and slip it into my side pocket.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand. “We’ve still lots to see.”
We stroll along the River Seine eating cheese crepes to the backdrop of a busker playing a Parisian tune on his accordion. When we finish, I lean over the wall and stare down at the green, shimmering river dancing lightly in the sun. Ahead, people enjoy the views from an open-topped deck of a river boat gliding under a bridge. I take the medal from my pocket and turn it around in my hand like a bar of soap as if somehow the answers to my troubles lie deep within the yellow metal. You’ve really messed up this time, girl, I tell myself, I can’t see you getting out of this one unscathed. I give it one final turn and then slip it into the breast pocket of my blouse.
“You’ll lose it there,” Daniel warns, leaning his back against the wall.
“I won’t.” I pat it lightly. “I want to keep it close to my heart.”
He smiles at me warmly, squinting against the sun. My mobile phone bleeps. I lower my bifocal sunglasses from my head. It’s Vicky again.
