French Kissing (25 page)

Mon amie Anglaise.
My English friend. He was no longer hung up on his ex, but he still didn't see me as anything other than a friend. Between us, nothing had changed.

Alex said, ‘Time we started for home, I think. We'll pick up a bottle of wine and something to eat tonight on the way. And then, I'll need to call Marcel – it shouldn't take long. Later, I thought we'd go to Le Cave, a bar I like on the Rue Oberkampf. I'll ask a few people to join us … Luc, Henri, Marthe. If that's OK with you, Anna?'

‘Sounds good,' I tore my gaze away from Alex's full, sensual mouth that I was never going to kiss, and made myself focus on his plans for a night out in Paris.

Twenty-eight

‘Ah – there's Luc and Édith.' Alex stood up and waved his arm above his head. The man and woman who'd just entered the bar started to make their way over to our table.

Alex's friend, Henri, a tall lanky man, with a pleasant, amiable face, said, ‘Did Alex ever mentioned Luc or Édith in his letters?'

I thought for a moment. ‘I don't think so. You're the only one of his friends here tonight that I remember reading about.'

Henri had known Alex since they were students. His name had at one time, cropped up regularly in Alex's letters. Usually in such comments as

Henri and I got wasted
…

or

Henri and I met two American girls studying at the Sorbonne …

‘Obviously, I'm Alex's most interesting acquaintance,' Henri said.

Like many of the bars in Paris, Le Cave, situated in a vaulted stone cellar, became a club after dark, with live music. Alex and I'd found ourselves a table in an alcove, far enough away from the stage and the dance floor to hold a shouted conversation. Before we'd left his apartment, he'd texted a number of his friends, asking if they wanted to join him for a drink in the Oberkampf district, and sitting with us were Henri, a guy named Léon, and a couple whose names were Marthe and François. Chatting with a group of people in French meant that I'd had to concentrate far more than when I was only talking to Alex, but I'd been pleased to discover that I understood almost all of what they said about the merits of this or that Parisian restaurant, the films they'd seen, the books they'd read. I'd tried to memorise any idiomatic or slang expressions I didn't recognise, so that later I could ask Alex for a translation. Henri had complimented me on my French accent – or lack of an English accent – and expressed surprise that this was my first visit to France. Like my friends in England, he'd been amazed to learn that Alex and I actually wrote letters to each other.

‘
Salut tout le monde.
' Luc and Édith arrived at the table. They greeted Alex with air kisses each side of his face, exclamations of pleasure at seeing him back in Paris, and congratulations when he told them the reason for his return. He introduced me as his friend from England.

‘Having your work shown at the Galerie Lécuyer is an achievement in itself,' Édith said, taking the seat on my right. ‘Let alone being nominated for the Lécuyer Award. You must be thrilled'

‘I am,' Alex said. ‘I admit it.'

Luc fetched a chair from another table and sat down beside Édith. ‘We'll go and see the exhibition, of course,' he said. ‘Whether you win or not.'

‘The photos you're exhibiting are portraits?' Édith said.

‘Yes,' Alex said. ‘There's a shot of Anna that I'm particularly proud of.'

I smiled at him. He raised his glass to me, and drank.

‘Are you a model?' Henri said.

‘Not professionally,' I said. ‘Only for Alex. I work for a graphic design company.'

‘My round,' François said, getting up from the table. Luc went with him to the bar. The live band finished their set, and were replaced by a DJ playing club anthems.

Henri said, ‘Would you like to dance, Anna?'

‘Oh, I –' I didn't particularly want to dance with him, but there wasn't any reason why I shouldn't. It seemed mean to refuse him in front of all these people that he knew. ‘Yes, I'll dance with you.'

I followed Henri onto the dance floor. While he wasn't nearly as good a dancer as Alex, he did at least lurch and shake in time to the music, and didn't stamp on my toes. A slow track came on. I'd have been happy to go back to the table at that point, but Henri put his hands on my waist, confining his dance moves to an occasional sway. I put my hands on his shoulders, making sure I kept plenty of space between us.

When the slow track came to an end, I dropped my hands to my sides, smiled, and said, ‘
Merci,
Henri.'

He looked a little disappointed, but didn't try to detain me.

We went back to the others. Alex was having an intense conversation with François and Léon, and Henri joined them. Luc was talking to Marthe.

Édith moved her chair close to mine and said, ‘So how long have you and Alex been together?'

‘Oh – No – We aren't together. It's like Alex said – we're friends.' As I needed to keep reminding myself.

Édith arched her eyebrows. ‘You do surprise me. When you were dancing with Henri, Alex couldn't take his eyes off you.'

‘I don't know why.' I glanced over at Alex. He seemed entirely absorbed in whatever Léon was saying to him.

Édith smiled. ‘I can think of several reasons – Oh, I love this song! Shall we girls go and dance?'

Calling for Marthe to follow, Édith dragged me back to the dance floor. The three of us strutted our stuff for a while, and then the guys came and joined us, and we all danced together, with much raising of arms in the air, and vocal accompaniment. The tempo of the music changed. Alex caught hold of me and pulled me close. Slow-dancing with his arms about me, I thought how good it was to have a night out with him in Paris, to meet his friends, to be a part of the life he'd described to me in his letters.

‘One more drink?' he said. ‘And then we'll go back to mine?'

‘
D'accord.
'

The others had already abandoned the dance floor. Alex steered me back to the alcove, Édith giving me a very knowing smile when she saw his hand on the small of my back. I decided that if she was determined to believe that I was more than his
amie
, there wasn't much I could do about it. Alex bought a final round of drinks, and after everyone had drained their glass, we all left Le Cave together. Amidst a throng of students and twenty-somethings bar-crawling along the Rue Oberkampf, Alex said
á bientôt
to his friends. They all wished him the best for the exhibition, hoped that I'd enjoy the rest of my stay in Paris, and then we went our separate ways.

Alex and I reached his apartment at around one in the morning. We discussed the arrangements for tomorrow – he had to go to the gallery, I was to go shopping with his sister – and then he took first turn in the bathroom, reappearing in about two minutes. I took far longer, scrupulously removing my make-up, and brushing my hair. I took off the jeans and top I'd worn to Le Cave. Then I put my baggy T-shirt on over my bra and thong. If I'd known I was going to be sharing a bed with Alex, I'd have brought something less revealing to sleep in.

I went back into the living area. Alex was already in bed, his head resting on one hand. With his other hand, he pulled back the duvet, and gestured to the mattress.

‘Are you happy sleeping on this side of the bed?' he said. ‘I didn't think to ask you last night, but most people have a preference.'

‘I don't mind.' I wondered if he lay on that side of the bed when he slept with other women? My face flushed. All the awkwardness I'd felt the previous night came rushing back. Hoping Alex hadn't noticed my unease, I lay down on the mattress, making a conscious effort not to position myself right on the edge, and covered myself with the duvet. My body jerked involuntarily when Alex's foot brushed against mine.

‘Are you OK?' he said.

‘Yes, I'm fine, but could you move your foot – it's freezing.'

‘
Pardon.
'

‘No worries.
Pas de quoi.
'

He switched out the light. I turned onto my side and shut my eyes.

He said, ‘Was Henri hitting on you tonight?'

‘No,' I said. ‘At least – I didn't notice.'

‘He seemed very taken with you.'

‘He was just being nice – I think.' I thought back over the evening, unsure now whether Henri had been flirting with me or not.

‘Maybe I was mistaken,' Alex said. ‘Not that I'd blame him if he'd hit on you. You're a very beautiful girl, Anna.' He also turned over so that we were lying back to back.

I was in bed with Alex and he'd just told me that I'm beautiful. I was intensely aware of him, almost naked, so close to me. If I turned to him, and kissed him right now, I couldn't see him pushing me away. My stomach clenched.

‘
Bonne nuit,
' Alex said.

Having sex with Alex would be a really bad idea. He was barely over his ex. He'd never shown any sign of wanting a relationship with me. It would be casual sex and nothing more. I lived in London, he lived in Paris, so there was no future in it. Having sex with Alex could – would – ruin our friendship.

‘
Bonne nuit, mon ami,
' I said.

Twenty-nine

‘Do I look all right?' I twirled around so that Alex could inspect my denim shirt-dress, caught in at the waist with a wide leather belt. Mindful of the number of cobbled streets we'd walked down the day before, I'd made the reluctant decision to stick to my flats rather than the ankle boots I usually wore on shopping expeditions. Luckily, my shoulder bag matched my belt and my shoes. ‘Is this smart enough for me to wear to go out with Hélène, do you think?'

Alex, sitting crossed legged on the bed in his jeans, going through the photos he'd taken yesterday on his camera, looked at me blankly. ‘I've no idea. Why would you care what you wear to go shopping with my sister?'

‘Frenchwomen are known to be effortlessly stylish. I don't want Hélène to think that just because I'm English, I don't know how to dress. What sort of clothes does she usually wear? Smart or casual?'

‘I don't take much notice. She usually looks OK, I guess.'

‘Alex! How can you not notice your sister's clothes? You do fashion shoots all the time.'

‘But I don't choose the garments. All I do is turn up in the studio and photograph them on the models. And try to keep the peace between the client, the art director, and the stylist.'

A thought struck me. Hélène worked as a book illustrator. She'd been to art school. Perhaps her style of dress was bohemian. Would she come floating into Alex's apartment, trailing patterned scarves and a long skirt?

I said. ‘Maybe I should change back into my jeans.'

The front door bell rang.

‘No time now,' Alex said. ‘Anyway, you look great. You always look great, by the way. Just saying.' He went to the door and opened it to let in his sister.

‘Bonjour
!' Hélène stepped into the vestibule and flung her arms around her brother. ‘It's good to see you, Alexandre.'

‘
Bonjour,
Hélène.
Ça va?'
He air-kissed each side of her face.

‘
Trés bien, merci.
'She came further into the apartment, and immediately I saw the resemblance between her and Alex. They had the same very dark hair – hers curling past her shoulders – and dark eyes, and like him, she was very good-looking. She was tall for a woman, as tall as me, enviably slender, and dressed very elegantly in a pair of well-cut, cropped, light-tan trousers and a loose white shirt. I decided I'd made the right choice of outfit for a day out shopping with a
Parisienne
.

‘
Bonjour
, Hélène,' I said. ‘I'm Anna Mitchel.'

‘Anna!
Bonjour.
It's so lovely to meet you at last.' We also exchanged air-kisses.

‘I'm very pleased to meet you, too,' I said, speaking in French as she had. ‘Alex has told me so much about you in his letters.'

‘Knowing my little brother,' Hélène said with a smile, ‘that is just a tiny bit worrying.' Her gaze travelled around the apartment, lingering on the un-made bed, glancing back at Alex, standing there nonchalantly without a shirt, his hands hooked into the pockets of his jeans, his feet bare. I knew exactly what she was thinking. I tried to think of a way to let her know that Alex and I weren't sleeping together – well, we were sleeping together, but not
sleeping together
– without saying it straight out, but decided that was a conversation best left until I knew her a little better.

Alex said, ‘Whereabouts are you thinking of going shopping?'

‘That rather depends on Anna.' Hélène turned to me. ‘Paris has so many different shopping districts. There are the big department stores, of course, and I'd recommend the Left Bank if you're after vintage. And for all the best European chains, the Rue du Commerce.'

‘Oh, I'm definitely a chain store girl,' I said. ‘I'd love to buy a dress or shoes by a brand I couldn't get in England.'

‘Sounds good to me,' Hélène said. ‘What time shall I return Anna to you, Alex?'

Alex thought for a moment. ‘I should be finished at the gallery by four. Why don't you both come and meet me somewhere for a drink?'

‘As the Galerie Lécuyer is in the Marais,' Hélène said, ‘let's meet in front of the Pompidou Centre. If you're delayed, Anna and I can watch the street performers in the piazza'

‘
D'accord
,' Alex said. ‘You go and bond over the clothing rails and I'll see you after I've seen my photos hung.'

Leaving Alex in the apartment, Hélène and I walked down the five flights of stairs to the street.

‘This really is so kind of you to volunteer to entertain me while Alex is working,' I said, as we headed to the Metro.