The train’s pulling into St Pancras now and Alice is looking at me expectantly.
‘We might not make it to Columbia Road,’ I say as gently as possible.
‘Okay,’ she nods, trying not to look disappointed. ‘I’d only be taking pictures for Instagram anyway.’
‘There will be lots of things to take pictures of, I promise.’
‘You’re being so mysterious today. I like it!’
I laugh, wheeling our suitcases off the train as Alice practically skips through the turnstiles.
‘How about the champagne bar, to start?’ I suggest.
‘Seriously?’ she says, stopping short of stepping onto the escalators down to the main station.
‘Well, it is your thirtieth birthday. And it’s five o’clock somewhere,’ I add, pretending to check the time.
Minutes later we’re sat at a high table with flutes of fizzing champagne in front of us.
‘Champagne for breakfast. Zach, you’re spoiling me,’ Alice says, her eyes bright.
‘Would you like some facts to go with your champagne?’
‘Always, you know I love a fact, especially if it’s wine related.’
‘This is the longest champagne bar in Europe.’
‘It is long,’ she muses, looking up and down the bar, which runs almost the entire length of the platform. A train to Paris has just pulled in behind us and Alice spins round to watch passengers getting off.
‘You can find another fact in there, if you’d like,’ I say, pushing an envelope towards her. She looks at me, full of curiosity, as she picks it up and peels it open.
There’s a birthday card inside and as she opens it to read it, a pair of tickets drop onto the table.
‘What are they?’ She asks.
‘Why don’t you take a look?’
Alice places the card on the table and picks them up.
‘WE’RE GOING ON THE EUROSTAR?’
Her excitement seeps into me and I laugh as she shouts out a stream of enthusiastic phrases.
‘SERIOUSLY? YOU’RE TAKING ME TO FRANCE?’
She still hasn’t stopped shouting by the time we’ve drained our drinks and I lead the way to the Eurostar check-in.
By the time our train pulls into Paris, Alice has her face pressed up against the train window in delight. She looks slightly less enthusiastic when I tell her we’re getting on another train as we arrive at the Gare du Nord.
‘Um, okay,’ she says, pretending to use the balloon attached to her wrist as a pillow as we stand on the concourse. ‘Train to London, yes. Train to Paris, yes. But another train? Have you taken this train date too literally, Zach? I’d love to get out and see some of Paris before we head back to England.’
‘I’m afraid Paris is off the cards today. However …’ I pause, laughing to myself as I watch Alice perking up. ‘We will see some of France soon, I promise.’
She rearranges the Happy Birthday tiara she’s been wearing ever since St Pancras and follows me as we head underground. Cramming a birthday girl, four helium balloons and a well-packed suitcase onto the bustling metro isn’t the easiest and we’re both roaring with laughter as we make it into the carriage just in time. In fact, making any connection with Alice isn’t simple. At Gare de Lyons she gets so distracted by a large display of profiteroles in a bakery window that once again we find ourselves scrambling onto our train with seconds to lose.
Countless rounds of Uno later and our destination is finally revealed.
‘Prochaine arrête, Avignon centre.’
