Page 7 of Thirty Days in Paris

Jean Louis frowned. ‘Corinne, we are not going anywhere. Not after what happened. We must look after Juliet. We cannot leave her.’

‘I don’t mind,’ I said, anxious to please, given his generosity.

‘No.’ Jean Louis was firm.

Corinne frowned. ‘I will go on my own,’ she said eventually. ‘It is too late to cancel.’

She handed Arthur over to Jean Louis, who took him without complaint. As Corinne left the room, he leaned towards me with a smile.

‘The people we are having dinner with, I do not like. So, thank you.’

Despite my exhaustion, I giggled.

‘Papa?’

I turned, and there in the doorway were two small children. A little girl in a navy-blue jumper and a grey pleated skirt, and a boy in yellow corduroys and a matching polo shirt. Their eyes flickered uncertainly between their father and me. I crouched down to be nearer their height.

‘Bonjour,’ I said to them. ‘Je suis Juliet. You must be Charlotte,’ I said, pointing to Hugo. ‘And you must be Hugo.’ I pointed to Charlotte.

The pair of them giggled.

‘Non!’ cried Hugo. ‘Je suis Hugo.’

I tapped the heel of my hand on my forehead to indicate I was a fool.

‘Hugo. Charlotte.’ I pointed the right way around this time.

‘Say hello, children,’ said Jean Louis.

The two of them inched forward. Charlotte put her arms around my neck.

‘ ’Ello,’ she said, and gave me a kiss on each cheek, just as her father had.

Then Hugo followed. My heart melted as I felt their soft, warm skin on mine, my recent drama forgotten.

Jean Louis pointed to one of the sofas. ‘Please, sit. Rest. I will fetch your valise.’

Valise. So much more exciting than suitcase. Everything sounded so much more exciting in French.

He left the room, and I sat down, weary and grateful, and the two children scrambled up onto the sofa next to me. They were chattering away to me in French, like two little pigeons cooing. I think they were asking me if I liked cats.

‘J’adore les chats,’ I told them, which seemed to meet with their approval.

Jean Louis appeared in the doorway and smiled at the three of us.

‘I will take you to your room,’ he said, and gestured to the children to leave me be. They drifted away obediently and I followed him down a corridor.

We passed what must have been the master bedroom, as I could hear the sounds of Corinne getting ready inside, but he said nothing until he reached a door at the end.

‘It’s small but comfortable,’ he said. ‘But if you need anything, you must tell me.’

It was at least twice the size of my bedroom at home. The bed was made up with snow-white embroidered sheets, and there was a large wooden wardrobe with a mesh front, as well as a little desk in front of the window. I sighed and Jean Louis looked alarmed.

‘It’s not good?’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I told him.

‘You have to share a bathroom with the children. I hope that’s OK.’

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