The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(56)

“I saw you talking to the waiter.”

“Ah, yes. He, er...” She cleared her throat. “He asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him this evening. It was a little unexpected.”

“That’s a coincidence because Sylvie asked me to join her for dinner.”

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“I hope you said yes,” Arthur said.





Paris Match


ARTHUR LATHERED HIS chin with shaving foam and took hold of his razor. He paused in front of the hotel bathroom mirror and studied his reflection. It felt strange to be making an effort with his appearance. He was meeting a stranger for dinner, on a Friday night in Paris. He was surprised that someone as lovely as Sylvie had nothing else planned for her evening.

His fingers tingled. He didn’t want to think too deeply about this in case he tried to talk himself out of it. Friday night was when he and Miriam used to have their chippy tea in front of the TV. But he told himself that he and Sylvie were going out to talk about Miriam, to share their memories and stories. It was something he should want to do, not shy away from.

One thing he was trying not to worry about was what they might eat. Did all French restaurants serve frog legs and cook everything in garlic? He hoped not. For a moment he had a longing for one of Bernadette’s pies. He was missing her home cooking and also her company. He hoped that Sylvie would be gentle on him.

After lunch in the little café across the road from the bridal boutique, he and Lucy had been out shopping. He rarely went shopping with Miriam. If they did, he would end up loitering outside changing rooms, looking at his watch. Miriam would hold up shirts and trousers against him, then she would either nod and put them in the basket or whisk them away to hang back on the rail. The clothes would then appear as if by magic in his wardrobe, with the shop creases ironed out and the labels snipped off, ready for him to wear. Likewise, when he had a birthday in the family or at Christmas, well-chosen presents would appear on the kitchen worktop neatly wrapped in brightly colored paper, with ribbon bows and gift tags signed “From Miriam and Arthur.” He actually liked the idea of shopping for his family, to pick something out that he thought they might like, but gift buying was Miriam’s domain. She took to it with relish.

This time he found the experience joyous. He and Lucy strolled around the streets in no hurry. They tried different French cheeses and sampled olive oils together. They found a clothes shop with a closing-down sale and Lucy insisted that he buy five new shirts, two jumpers and a new pair of trousers. As he stood in the changing room and looked at his reflection in the new clothes, even he had to admit that he looked younger.

He bought a small bunch of freesias for Sylvie and an enameled black cat brooch for Lucy when she wasn’t looking. In the window of an antiques shop he saw a simple string of pearls and pointed them out. “I think your mother would have loved those,” he said.

Lucy agreed. “You knew her so well,” she said.

*

Arthur wore his new clothes as he stood outside the bridal shop once more, waiting for Sylvie. The lights inside were switched off and for a brief moment he half hoped she’d had a change of heart, that she had reconsidered. He walked up and down outside the shop trying not to grip the little bunch of freesias too tightly.

Friday night seemed to be couples night in Paris. An array of well-dressed, gorgeous couples of all ages sashayed past him. They smiled as they saw him waiting. Don’t worry, they seemed to be thinking, she will be here for you soon.

Ten minutes later, he heard the shop door rattle and Sylvie appeared. “My apologies, Arthur. I was ready to leave when I took a phone call. A young bride was panicking about her dress. She has been starving herself for her wedding and has lost too much weight so that her bosom no longer fills the dress so well. I told her not to worry and that she should come and see me tomorrow. Her wedding is in three weeks’ time so she may put weight back on. I do not think alterations are the answer. Maybe a little more padding in her bra... Anyway—” she brushed her hair with her hand “—what am I telling you all this for? I am sorry to keep you waiting—that is what I am trying to say.”

She smiled as she took the flowers. She bent her head to smell them, took them inside the shop and then locked the door. He noticed that she was wearing the same suit as when he’d met her earlier, but she had added a sparkly turquoise necklace and a cream crocheted shawl. He felt less nervous now that she hadn’t changed especially for dinner.

They walked together down the cobbled streets, winding down toward the river. At one point Sylvie lost her footing and he held out the crook of his elbow so she could steady herself. As they walked, her hand remained there, linking him. Arthur felt his arm stiffen. They were walking along arm in arm. It was more familiar than he was comfortable with. He wondered if anyone passing would think they were together and this made him feel self-conscious. He hoped Sylvie didn’t think their outing was anything more than friendly. This is just the French way, he told himself. Being tactile and friendly is the norm.

He glanced at her. She smiled and had a dance in her step as she pointed out a dove on a telephone wire, a mural of a girl being pulled into the air by the bunch of balloons she was carrying. Sylvie reached out to pluck a couple of olives from a bowl outside a shop. She waved to the shopkeeper inside, then passed one to Arthur. He took it and the oil dribbled down his hand. He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket. Then he kept his arm pinned to his side.