Page 89 of Thirty Days in Paris

Her eyes filled with tears, and Juliet reached out a hand.

‘I was so very ill. And you knew that. You were the only person who saw what I was going through. But I pretended to be OK, because that’s what I thought I had to do. And I thought what was wrong was having you in the house. I thought the children loved you more than they loved me—’

‘Of course they didn’t!’

Corinne put up a hand to stop her speaking. ‘I know now. But then, all I saw was a young girl who had everyone under her spell. Even me. I was so jealous of you. You were so young and so kind and so beautiful. I thought you and Jean Louis …’ She stumbled on her words, her voice cracking. ‘I thought I was going to lose everything to you.’

Juliet felt touched by her vulnerability. The memory clearly still pained her.

‘Corinne, you must know. There was nothing between us. There was a moment one night, but we had too much wine, too much moonlight. It was nothing. I promise you.’

‘I know now. Jean Louis told me the truth. After you had gone. That Christmas was terrible. I could not get out of bed. I went to a clinic in the end. I had very bad postnatal psychosis.’ She met Juliet’s gaze. ‘You were the one who recognised how much I was suffering. And I punished you for it. I am so sorry.’ Corinne was trembling with the emotion of the memories. ‘I knew in my heart you had not stolen the jewels. But it was the perfect way to get rid of you. You were a threat to me, you see, and I did not want to confront the truth. Because it would have meant accepting I was a monster.’

‘You weren’t a monster. You were very ill.’

‘It was all OK in the end. Jean Louis had the courage to tell me how he was feeling. How scared he was, and how he buried his feelings and saw you as an escape. From me.’

‘Oh Corinne …’ Suddenly, the complexities of the situation unravelled, and Juliet was able to see the nuances of everyone’s mistakes, and their bad choices, and the consequences.

‘I have always felt terrible that you paid the highest price. I was cruel. We were cruel. You were so young, and all you were guilty of was … being the person we all needed.’

‘It was cruel,’ Juliet agreed. ‘But I was OK in the end. I married a very lovely man.’

Corinne surveyed her thoughtfully. ‘But you are back here? On your own?’

Juliet gripped the stem of her glass. Corinne had been disarmingly frank, so perhaps she could share her own story. ‘My husband and I have separated. It’s very amicable. We just want different things.’ She shrugged, with a rueful smile. ‘I wanted to come back here. To see what my life could have been. I loved my time here, and I’ve never forgotten Paris. And now is my chance.’

‘And maybe you will find love?’

Talking about love was a confidence too far. Juliet didn’t want to jinx anything by telling Corinne about Olivier.

‘Maybe,’ she said.

‘I think you will.’ Corinne was definite. ‘Paris is made for love. Never forget that.’

Corinne’s eyes sparkled like the diamond on her finger. Juliet saw a glimpse of the woman she had become: strong, adventurous, stylish, passionate. She wondered if they could be friends. Maybe that was stretching it. But the final knot untied inside her and she felt her heart free itself from the memory of that long-ago betrayal and of her own guilt at her part in the drama.

It was time, she thought, to put the final piece of the puzzle into place. She had a blank canvas in the most beautiful city in the world, the best friend she could ask for, the opportunity to live an exciting new life. Love would be the icing on the cake – but a cake without icing could be just as delicious. She smiled to herself as she drained her glass of Whispering Angel.

Courage, she told herself, putting a French accent on the word. It sounded so much more galvanising.

42

Dusk was gathering as Juliet arrived outside the shop. En route in the taxi, Paris was looking her most ravishing, her lights shining silver and gold as people danced along the pavements, arms piled high with early Christmas shopping, heading to a rendezvous or an assignation. An early-evening coupe de champagne, perhaps, or just a chocolat chaud to warm the heart.

The Librairie des Rêves glowed her welcome. Juliet slipped inside, not wanting to be seen just yet. She saw Olivier at his desk, head bowed, frowning as he looked something up on the computer, then left to search the shelves. This was her moment. She crept up to the desk, hoping she had time, took something out of her bag and put it on his desk. Then she slid back into the shadows and waited.

It wasn’t long before he came back carrying a book in his hand. She smiled as she saw him notice what was on his desk. He froze, stepped forward, put the book he was carrying down and lifted up the ancient copy of Le Grand Meaulnes. He opened it to check the front page. He smiled, but he looked puzzled, and then he looked around him.

He knew she had to be somewhere and she wasn’t going to tease him a moment longer. She stepped out of her hiding place and walked towards him.

‘You came back,’ he said, staring at her.

‘Of course,’ she said, pointing at the book. ‘I had to return this to you.’

Within two seconds, she was wrapped tightly in his arms.

‘I thought I was going to lose you again,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to lose you.’ His voice was choked with tears.

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