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Chapter 12
The handful of wooden tables outside the restaurant were taken, so we pressed our foreheads against the window, checking if there were any seats free inside. The smell of lemon juice and salty fries hung in the air and I could hear the tinkle of cutlery knocking against china.
‘It is very popular, this place, as you can see,’ he told me.
The words Café et Chocolat were etched on the window in white, both of which sounded unbelievably appealing right about now. There was a menu written on a blackboard propped up in the window; I scanned it, not understanding a single word. If I’d wanted the authentic Parisian experience, I’d got it.
‘Oui!’ exclaimed Léo. ‘Come. There is a table free.’
Léo greeted the waiter like an old friend and we were shown to a banquette pressed up against the back wall. I chucked my bag under the table and half fell onto the red velvet seat, from where I had a near-perfect view of the entire café and the impressive zinc-topped bar in the centre of it. Léo took a seat opposite me, immediately calling the waiter back.
‘What would you like, Hannah?’ he asked.
‘Coffee, please,’ I said, amazed I’d made such a quick decision instead of the usual procrastination about whether I wanted wine or water; whether I fancied coffee or tea. Ellie teased me about it every single time we went to a bar – according to her, by the time I’d decided what to have first, everyone else was on their second round.
Léo rattled something off and the waiter nodded and disappeared behind the bar, scribbling on a miniscule white pad as he went. I looked around, making a mental note to take some photos before we left. It was the quintessential Parisian neighbourhood bistro with mirrors covering almost every inch of the wall and a floor made up of hundreds of higgledy-piggledy fragments of tile stuck together to make a kaleidoscopic pattern beneath our feet. Delicious smells emanated from the kitchen and soothing, ambient dance music played softly in the background. I immediately felt myself starting to relax.
‘Tell me something I don’t know about you, Hannah,’ said Léo.
The waiter brought our drinks and I picked up my coffee, letting the heat of it warm my hands. I was fascinated by the tower of wine glasses in the middle of the bar.
‘I’ve told you tons of stuff already,’ I said. ‘More than I’ve ever revealed to someone I’ve known for half a day, let me tell you.’
He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. ‘It is because we are strangers. We can say anything to each other and it will not matter.’
I peeled off the wet hoodie, wishing I could do the same with my jeans, which were stuck to me like a second skin.
‘Because after today, we will never see each other again,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ he said, looking at the menu for about two seconds and then flinging it onto the table. ‘So … you live in London?’
I nodded, following suit and picking up the menu, scanning through it. ‘In the north-west of the city, in an area called Kensal Rise,’ I said, trying to decide if I fancied an omelette and frites or a pretentious take on a croque monsieur: a croque focaccia. ‘It’s busy, but I love it. I like being where there are crowds and lights and traffic and colour.’
For some reason I felt safer amongst the chaos of London than I did almost anywhere else. It hadn’t been like that where I grew up; you could go for a walk around the block and not see a single other person, which I’d always found disproportionately depressing.
‘It is you and your boyfriend only?’ asked Léo, watching me intently.
I nodded, clearing my throat. ‘We’ve only been there a few months.’
I missed our flat. I was still revelling in my newfound maturity, in the idea of co-habiting and living in a place that didn’t resemble a student dorm room. It had come fully furnished, but I’d added my own little touches and had spent hours flicking through lifestyle magazines and creating mood boards featuring brownstone walk-ups in Brooklyn, which our purpose-built seventies-style flat above a pet shop bore absolutely no resemblance to.
‘How long were you together before that?’ asked Léo. ‘Before you decided to live in this apartment?’
‘Six months or so.’
Sometimes – although I’d never admit it to Si – it felt as though our relationship was moving at double the speed of everybody else’s. We’d only properly been together for a few months when he’d suggested moving in together. And he’d chosen the least romantic place to ask me: the upstairs landing of Mum and Tony’s house. I’d gone up to help him find a spare dining chair when we’d gone round for dinner one night. He’d taken my hands on the landing, clutching them earnestly.
‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ he’d said softly, his eyes glittering.
I’d laughed brightly at how nervous he seemed. ‘Go on.’
He coughed, taking a deep breath. ‘I wanted to ask you if you’d move in with me.’
I swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The lease is coming up for renewal on my place,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘And I thought to myself: we spend most nights together, anyway. Why not take the next step and get a flat of our own?’
I couldn’t think clearly. This was not what I’d expected at all.
