Page 82 of Thirty Days in Paris

He leaned back on the pillows and shut his eyes. She slipped back out between the curtains and crept out of the ward.

She lugged her case back through the ghostly hospital corridors, passing the occasional midnight wanderer heading outside for a cigarette, feeling certain that the distance was twice as long as it needed to be, trudging along the miles of shiny brown floor. The sliding doors at the entrance spat her out into a damp, self-pitying night, clumps of mist crowding round her for company.

Eventually, she managed to get a cab to take her back to Richmond. By the time it turned up, she was shivering, miserable with the cold and facing the reality of her situation. She should have been eating wild mushrooms with Olivier, should have seduced him on the floor of her apartment, smiling down at him as he gazed up at her in adoration. She’d fantasised about it all weekend, revelling in the anticipation and the sweet, sharp, exquisite drilling that started up inside her whenever she thought of him. It wasn’t there now, though. It was as if a wet blanket had been thrown over her and put out her fire.

Stuart had given her the door codes for his apartment block. It was strange, letting herself into this place where she didn’t belong. It took her a while to negotiate the locks and the lift and the light switches, but eventually she battled her way in through his front door, feeling like an intruder.

Even though he’d unpacked and settled in by now, the flat still felt stiff and unhomely. It looked as if he’d gone to John Lewis and got everything he needed without really thinking about it, safe in the knowledge that it would be decent quality and would all match if he kept within the same colour range. Teal and mustard, by the look of it. In the kitchen, there was a dirty coffee cup and a bowl with the remains of his morning granola and yoghurt. She opened the fridge. Chicken breasts, bags of salad, more yoghurt. All she wanted was a cup of tea and some digestive biscuits, but there was no sign of any kind of comfort food.

Was he enjoying his bachelor life? she wondered. It all felt in stark contrast to her slightly bohemian Paris existence. Very ordered and a bit dull, but she supposed that was how he wanted it.

She decided to go straight to sleep. She was exhausted from the stress and tension and the journey, and she wanted to feel fresh for tomorrow. She hesitated before climbing into his bed. She didn’t know why she felt squeamish, for she’d slept with him for years and years, but it felt a little odd.

Even his sheets followed the teal and mustard theme. There was the slight odour of him on them, mixed with Lenor and Dior’s Fahrenheit. It unsettled her. She felt a pang for Olivier’s scent, for the warmth of him next to her. Was it too late to text him? She should. He’d been so kind.

She’d send him a short text.

Here! (She didn’t specify where. She didn’t want him to know she was sleeping in her ex’s bed.) I think S is OK but they will operate tomorrow. Tired, so going to sleep. Speak tomorrow. Xx

She lay the phone down and waited for a reply. But there wasn’t one. Was that it? Was everything over between them, now she had gone? Maybe that was his coping mechanism? To pretend it had never happened and move on. She sighed. At least this time they’d had a chance to say goodbye, and he knew how much he meant to her. She hadn’t left him in any doubt.

Maybe this way was for the best. Cutting it short, rather than both of them living under the cloud of her departure. It would have spoiled those last few days, the dread.

She curled up on her side. Morning would be here before long. She’d have to sort out the flat for Stuart, making sure it was easy to navigate on crutches, filling the fridge so he didn’t have to go out. She waited for sleep, hating herself for keeping half an ear cocked for another text, a sign that all was well between them.

When she woke in the morning, there was still nothing, and anxiety prickled at her, putting her on edge. Should she phone him? She was staring at the screen when a call came through and she jumped.

Nate.

‘Darling.’ She answered on the first ring.

‘Mum.’ It was lovely to hear his dear voice. ‘I’m outside. Can you let me in?’

Dear, sweet, lovely, kind Nate. He’d jumped on the first flight from Copenhagen that morning, knowing that if he’d phoned her in advance she’d have told him to stay put. She put her arms around him, yet again marvelling how she didn’t even reach his chin, rubbing her cheek against the roughness of his coat. He grinned down and ruffled her hair.

‘I saw Dad,’ she told him. ‘I think he’s OK. They’re going to operate on his leg first thing this morning. You shouldn’t have come.’

‘I didn’t want you to feel you had to look after him,’ he told her. ‘I mean, you guys aren’t a thing anymore.’

‘Oh sweetheart.’ They hadn’t talked about it much in depth, but she was touched by his perception. ‘We still love each other, you know. We’d still do anything for each other.’

Nate’s expression was gravely indignant. ‘You’re supposed to be in Paris, writing your book.’ He was the only person she had told about her plan, because he was trustworthy and wouldn’t tell anyone else or judge her if she didn’t finish it. She hadn’t told Izzy, because Izzy would want to read it, and she wasn’t sure about that at all. Not yet.

‘You’re supposed to be in Denmark.’

Juliet fretted about him abandoning his studies, but he assured her that everything was under control.

‘As long as I get my dissertation written by Christmas, no one minds where I am. It’s nearly the holidays.’

‘Really?’ She supposed it was almost the end of November, and students seemed to come home about two weeks after they’d gone back these days. ‘Well, your dad will appreciate it so much.’

‘It’s you I’m here for, Mum.’ Nate looked at her. ‘And Izzy. I knew if I didn’t tell her I was coming she’d get on a plane, and that’s not fair.’

‘You’ve spoken to her, then?’

‘Of course I have.’

Juliet hugged him, marvelling at how she had managed to produce such a splendid human being. He was very like his dad, she thought proudly. Solid. And she felt relief that he was here, because it was hard, managing a crisis, and it was nice having someone to discuss it with, and she realised, with a curious mixture of delight and regret, that he was now a grown-up and could be depended upon.

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