Million Love Songs(102)

‘You’ll be fine.’

‘Plan this properly,’ she says. ‘Paris will still be here in a few months.’

‘I want to stay,’ I assure her. ‘It’s an adventure.’

‘This is because of Mason, isn’t it?’

‘Partly,’ I admit. ‘But I have no ties, no commitments. I’ve never done anything wildly spontaneous in my life. There’s a bit of spare money in my bank account. If I don’t do this now, when else will I be able to?’

‘Have you told that shagging shit?’

I shake my head. That’s one call I can’t make. If I never speak to Mason again it will be too soon.

‘What shall I tell him?’ Charlie asks.

‘Tell him to fuck himself,’ I suggest.

She shrugs. ‘OK.’

I hug Charlie to me. ‘I’ll be fine. We’ll FaceTime every day. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.’

‘I’m going to have to leave the Butcher’s Arms too, aren’t I?’

‘Don’t rush into anything. You like that job.’

‘I’ll want to punch Shagger Soames every time I see him. I knew no good would come of this.’

‘I should have listened to my bestie.’ Then I check my watch. ‘Your coach will be leaving soon.’

‘I’d better go and help Paul. He’s gone to get our luggage to bring it down to reception.’

‘How did it go with him?’

She waggles her eyebrows mischievously. ‘No condoms left.’

‘None?’ Charlie flushes. ‘Wow. Good girl. Did you close your eyes and think of Gary Barlow?’ I tease.

‘No. I didn’t.’ She sounds surprised at her own admission. ‘We had a great night. He’s very caring.’ A little sparkle comes to her eyes when she speaks about him. It’s nice to see her happy and glowing. ‘I like him, Ruby. Really like him. Do you think there’s a chance it will work out for us?’

‘I think you’re lovely together. He doesn’t even mind competing with Gary Barlow.’

‘I know.’ Then her eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m frightened to let him close, Ruby.’

I take her by the arms. ‘I fully understand why, my love, but give it a chance. He seems like one of the good guys.’

‘He does.’ She brushes away her tears. ‘Come home soon. I’ll miss you too much.’

I hug her again. ‘I’ll be back as soon as the money runs out.’

‘Take That are playing the Albert Hall for Christmas. I’ve got gold circle tickets for us as a surprise pressie. You can’t be away for that.’

‘It sounds fantastic.’ I kiss her cheek. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

‘You’d better not,’ she warns.

Then Nice Paul arrives, struggling with all of their luggage. So we take some of the bags from him and Charlie say, ‘She’s not coming back with us.’

‘Wow,’ Paul says.

‘Long story. Charlie will explain.’ I walk with Charlie down to the coach and hug her again. She cries a bit more. ‘Look after her,’ I say to Nice Paul.

‘Don’t worry, I will.’ Then I watch as he puts their cases in the hold and helps her onto the coach. That’ll work out well. I know it will. I can feel it in my bones.

I stand on the pavement and wave madly at the coach until it’s out of sight. Then I look round at the streets of Paris, the little pavement cafés, the chi-chi shops and get a thrill of anticipation as I wonder where to start.





Chapter Ninety-Eight





I stay in Paris for two months and have a fantastic time. I watch the summer fade to the first signs of autumn and the leaves start to fall from the trees. The temperature falls steadily as we head towards winter and I buy a warmer jacket.

Every day I pound the streets, finding my way round this beautiful city. I might be footsore but I’m light in my heart. I move to a room I find on Airbnb that’s basic but clean. The house is perfectly located in the winding, cobbled streets of Montmartre, not far from the Sacré-Coeur. The landlady lets me use her kitchen and washing machine and it costs me less than twenty quid a night.

Montmartre is the place I love the most. It’s quite possibly the most unashamedly romantic part of Paris that has a fab, arty vibe. I love climbing the quiet stairways, peering down narrow alleyways onto ivy-clad houses and sitting at pavement cafés watching the world go by. Every day it’s thronging with tourists – like myself – and couples hand-in-hand. I won’t deny it, I do get a few pangs of longing, but not for Mason. When Charlie told him I wasn’t coming back, he called me every day for a week to beg me to reconsider. I never returned his calls. What do we have to say to each other?

No, the person I think the most about is Joe. He would love it here too and it would have been nice to come here with him for the romantic weekend that I never quite managed. I think about calling him and, once or twice, after too many glasses of vin rouge, I nearly do. But what would be the point? It didn’t work out there and there’s no good in thinking about what might have been.

I take in all the sights, eat in little cafés with surly staff and chic Parisian ladies. I learn a few passable phrases in halting French. I probably go to every single museum and art gallery in Paris. I take three trips to Versailles as I’m blown away by it. I buy a sketch book and pencils and have a go at drawing. I’m rubbish at it, but find it quite therapeutic. I sit wrapped up in the cool, autumn afternoons and try to capture my favourite landmarks. As a backup, I fill my phone with photos.