Page 76 of The Paris Trip

‘To the vineyard in Bordeaux?’

He came closer, his dark, intent gaze searching her face. ‘It’s a marvellous place, Cave Rémy. I spent many happy holidays there as a boy. I’d like you to see it.’

‘I should g-go home,’ she stammered.

‘Why?’

The direct question threw her, and she had to stop and think. Which wasn’t easy. Right now, any kind of rational thought felt like trying to force a watermelon through a colander. All that came out the other side was mush.

‘Because…’ She halted, conflicted.

‘Because you should? Because you’re worried what all this means?’ He had taken away the cheerful yellow summer dress she’d folded very badly and was shaking it out. His voice was calm as he arranged its silky folds more carefully, every one of his movements graceful, almost ritual. ‘I understand that. So I’m asking you to take a chance, Maeve. A chance on me,’ he added softly, ‘and on whatever this is.’

By this, he must mean the strange electricity in the small attic room, she decided, and tried to suppress the wobbly sensation inside that the mere sound of his voice seemed to have inflicted on her. And the fear that one of her legs had inexplicably grown longer than the other. For otherwise, why would she be listing so oddly to one side, her knees and assorted leg muscles and ligaments suddenly weak as limp spaghetti?

It was nerves, pure and simple. What else could it be? She was nervous about travelling home at last. Nothing to do with Leo Rémy asking her to accompany him to his family vineyard in Bordeaux.

How ridiculous she was being.

He was still waiting, his gaze steady on her face now.

Terror jolted through her.

And exhilaration.

Now it was her time to ask the difficult question.

‘Why?’ she whispered, all her fears and uncertainties and shining hopes somehow wrapped up in that one unpromising syllable.

Leo handed her the neatly folded dress. ‘Because I think it would be a mistake to ignore what’s been going on here. For both of us.’ His smile was slow and filled her with heat. ‘And because I think you feel the same.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

They took the TGV to Bordeaux – the ‘train à grande vitesse,’ as Sophie had explained helpfully while they were waiting to board – and it certainly lived up to its ‘high speed’ name. Maeve sat rapt in a delightful dream, watching the countryside flash past in ever-darkening shades of green and gold the further south they travelled. Quaint towns, hills and valleys, vast stretches of golden and verdant crops, all blurred into one recognizably French patchwork.

Leo sat beside her, pointing out landmarks and sharing amusing anecdotes or astute political remarks about the landscape they were passing through. ‘That was the town where they wanted to elect a donkey as Mayor,’ he commented at one point, nodding to a station name that passed too quickly for her to catch. ‘Though, in my opinion, they already had one.’

His nieces Sophie and Marie were pleasant company too. She hadn’t seen much of the twin girls during her stay at Château Rémy, since the bubbly teenagers had been out most days sightseeing with Madame Rémy. But she’d often heard them chattering in their room in the evenings or watching French films loudly. Now they sat opposite her and Leo on the journey, listening to music on their headphones or giggling together over social media posts. Sometimes they took selfies or reels, posing outrageously for their friends and followers on various platforms.

They had Club Quatre seats with a table, which allowed Maeve plenty of space to write observations in the notepad she’d bought at the station, using the emergency cash the bank had allowed her to withdraw. She was missing her phone and the laptop she used at home. But she’d been able to check her emails at least on Leo’s laptop, reassured to see nothing too pressing in her Inbox.

Besides, doing without the internet had proved fairly relaxing so far. It was a digital detox she hadn’t intended to take, but one she was actively enjoying now she’d got past the stress of wondering what she might be missing.

They were travelling first class, which felt wonderfully luxurious. The seats were wide and comfortable, with power-recline settings. She was surprised to discover that there was no food or drink offered with First Class tickets, although they did provide a café-bar compartment. Thankfully, Madame Rémy had kindly provided them with a picnic-style lunch, and they ate this instead, both girls apparently preferring her home-cooking to ‘train food’ anyway.

While they ate and chatted, Maeve couldn’t help noticing that Leo seemed quite withdrawn, his smile perfunctory whenever she glanced at him.

‘Are you okay?’ Maeve asked him after they’d finished eating, careful to keep her voice down, although the girls were too busy discussing something they’d seen on social media to overhear their conversation. ‘Tell me to mind my own business, but you seem a little unhappier today than last night.’ Meticulously, she began clearing away the remnants of their train picnic. ‘I thought everything was sorted amicably with your father.’

‘I doubt that anything between me and my father will ever be sorted amicably,’ Leo admitted with a weary smile. ‘I’m sorry to be such poor company. I’m just worried about the exhibition, that’s all.’ He paused, gazing out at the sun-drenched countryside. ‘I’m afraid Liselle was right to be angry with me.’

Having thrust everything into a paper bag ready for disposal, Maeve used a few wet wipes to clean her sticky fingers. But her mind was ticking furiously. She felt instantly on the defensive, hearing that. Liselle might be his manager, but what right did she have to judge him?

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘By the time we get back from Bordeaux, the exhibition will almost be upon us,’ he explained. ‘And I only have three or four canvases that will be anywhere near finished by then.’

‘But you’ve brought some painting equipment with you,’ she pointed out. He had in fact carried an easel on board the train, along with his bag of paints and a portfolio case of blank canvases, ready for painting. ‘Won’t you be working while you’re in Bordeaux?’

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