One Summer in Paris(31)

Her mother had promised to try to be less insecure and Ron had promised never again to walk out without making it clear he planned on coming back.

The wedding had gone ahead, but Audrey had held her breath along with her posy of flowers, terrified that it wouldn’t last.

What if her mother drank too much and he left for good? Would Linda even call Audrey? She could be lying on the bathroom floor right at this moment and Audrey wouldn’t even know.

She paused when she reached a busy square.

The delicious smell of fresh pizza and herbs wafted toward her from a small pavement café, crowded with people. Everyone in the world seemed to be having fun, except her.

Her stomach growled. All she’d eaten since she left London was a squashed energy bar she’d found at the bottom of her bag.

Ignoring the pain in her feet, she shifted her backpack to ease her sore shoulders and carried on walking. Cobbled streets looked quaint and pretty in photos, but they were less charming when you were trying to walk over them.

Finally she found it, tucked away in a little courtyard and accessed by a narrow passageway. Le Petit Livre was close to the river and the charming cafés that lined the pavements.

The door was painted a bright, cheery blue and the windows on either side were filled with books of every description.

The name of the shop was stenciled onto the windows in a curve, and she pushed open the door, jumping as a bell jangled.

The place smelled of books, dust and leather but there were worse smells in her opinion. Alcohol. Smoke. Food past its sell-by date. She could name dozens.

Shelves reached to the ceiling, and she glanced upward, wondering what she was going to do if someone wanted a book from the top shelf.

“Entrez, entrez, j’arrive!” A woman emerged from the back of the shop. Her hair was white and swept up in an elegant knot, and she wore a black dress that flowed around her slender frame.

Audrey stared, fascinated. Her mother’s approach to glamour was to lower her neckline. This woman had almost no flesh on display, and yet she was the most glamorous creature Audrey had ever seen.

Confronted by such cool elegance, she was even more aware of how badly she needed a shower.

“Je m’appelle Audrey.” It was the one phrase she’d practiced a million times.

She was feeling pretty proud of her pronunciation, particularly when the woman’s face brightened.

She introduced herself as Elodie, stretched out her hands in welcome and kissed Audrey on both cheeks.

It felt bizarre to be kissed by a stranger but she had no time to dwell on that because the woman was talking in French, gesturing toward the books. She was obviously giving Audrey a summary of her responsibilities, which was awkward because Audrey didn’t have a clue what she was saying.

The woman paused, and Audrey felt a rush of frustration.

She was usually quite chatty, but she had no idea how to be chatty in French. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Er—I didn’t actually understand all of that—ne comprenez.” What was the phrase for not understanding? Oh, this had been a seriously bad idea.

Puzzled, the woman switched to English. “The letter I received from you was written in excellent French.” Her words were heavily accented, but it was clear that her language skills were vastly superior to Audrey’s.

“I’m better at writing than speaking.” Audrey beamed. She’d learned that a smile often distracted people from what was really going on. “I’ll soon pick it up.”

“You’re going to go to language classes while you are here?”

“Definitely.” She had no intention of signing up for classes. Not only because she had no money, but because she never wanted to study again in her life. She planned to find a local hair salon that would give her work. Maybe she’d learn a few words there.

“You will work mornings,” Elodie told her, as she showed her around the shop, “and the occasional evening if Etienne is busy.”

“Etienne?”

Elodie led her into the tiny kitchen where they could make tea, and pointed out the cupboard where the first aid kit was kept.

“Etienne is studying French literature at the Sorbonne. He works here evenings, weekends and during the holidays for the past two years. Our regular customers love him.”

Audrey could picture him. Glasses. Slightly pale because he spent too long indoors with only books for company. Probably skinny because books didn’t weigh much and they were the only things he lifted. And superior. He’d look down his nose at someone like her.

She already knew she was going to loathe the saintly Etienne. Any boy whose idea of excitement was spending his evenings working in a bookshop wasn’t her type. He wouldn’t know the first thing about the hottest places to hang out in Paris.

“You have regular customers? So it’s not all tourist trade, then?” She gazed around the shelves. She’d never seen so many books in one place outside a library.

“This bookshop has been here for over a hundred years. It was owned by my great-grandmother and has been in the family ever since. Even during the German occupation of Paris, my grandmother kept it running. She kept all the valuable books hidden.”

“Cool.” Audrey was interested. Hiding things was her specialty. Or it had been until she’d been stupid enough to hide her money inside her bear. She still couldn’t think about that without wanting to cry. All the money she’d saved. Gone. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of all the people in the hair salon, she wouldn’t be here now. When she’d told them what had happened they’d all got together and given her a “leaving present.” Ellen had made a speech and Doris had baked a cake. Then they’d handed her an envelope stuffed with enough notes to cover her ticket to Paris and a few meals. It had been the first and only time in her life that Audrey had cried in public.