Page 9 of The Paris Trip

‘Hello?’ she said rather breathlessly when the ring tone stopped. ‘Is… Is that Monsieur Rémy?’

There was a short silence. Then Leo asked in a deep, abrupt voice, ‘Maeve?’

Briefly, trying to sound calm and in control, though in fact she was frankly terrified and exhausted, Maeve explained her situation.

‘It seems no one can deal with me until tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I’ve no money and nothing to wear except the clothes on my back. I know this is a huge inconvenience but you said if I needed help that I could call you. And I was just wondering if…’ She tailed off, horribly embarrassed. Good grief. What on earth was she thinking, asking this Frenchman, this complete stranger to help her out? She must’ve been mad even to consider such a thing. Maybe it was the bang on the head… ‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered, ‘I shouldn’t have called. It’s nothing to do with you, Monsieur Rémy. Please forget what I said.’

‘No, of course I’ll help you. It would be my pleasure, Mademoiselle.’

Even though she’d asked for his help in the first place, Maeve cringed inwardly, wishing she had the strength to decline. But she was simply too tired and distressed to turn him down. She’d always been fiercely independent and loathed relying on other people. But right now she badly needed someone to lend a hand, even if it was only to offer her a bed for the night. And maybe a cup of tea.

Goodness, she would kill for a nice hot cup of tea.

‘I’ll come back and collect you,’ Leo went on smoothly. ‘You can stay here with us. We have plenty of room. Are you still at the Embassy? I’m on the other side of the city from you, I’m afraid, and in my pyjamas now. So it’ll take maybe an hour to sort things out here and come to get you. Can you manage alone for an hour?’

‘Absolutely. I’ll walk up and down, or around the block a few times. Oh, but you are amazing… Thank you so much. You’re sure it’s not an inconvenience?’

‘Not at all.’ Leo sounded amused rather than annoyed. ‘I’ll let my grandmother know at once. She’s gone to bed but I’m sure she’ll still be awake. She’s been fretting about you ever since she got home. Trust me, this news will cheer her up.’ And with that, he rang off.

She handed the phone back to the security guard. ‘I’ve found a bed for the night,’ she told him, and saw the man’s brows shoot up. She didn’t know what he was thinking but she could guess by the cynical look in his eyes. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she added shortly, determined to stay polite. ‘I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.’

He touched his cap. ‘Goodnight, Miss.’

Maeve set off on a leisurely walk around the block, keeping within well-lit areas only, as she didn’t like the idea of standing around on a street corner. The last thing she needed was to be mistaken for someone touting for trade. Though the guard had assured her it was a respectable area, so she ought to be safe enough.

She walked as slowly as possible without actually grinding to a halt, sometimes whistling or humming under her breath to appear cheerful to passers-by, and constantly checking over her shoulder. Lightning might rarely strike twice but she still felt vulnerable since being targeted by a snatch-and-grab biker.

Respectable the area might be, but her heart was thumping the whole way and it was hard to stay calm. The occasional motorbike that came zooming along the quiet Parisian street made her stiffen and draw back against the wall, glaring after each unfortunate rider in case it was her thief. But nobody else attacked her. Passers-by mostly ignored her, in fact, absorbed in their own thoughts, hurrying home from a late work shift or some evening entertainment, and fifteen minutes later she was safely back outside the embassy.

The guards grinned as she passed them again, heading around the block for a second time, walking more briskly now and swinging her arms, for the night was growing chilly and she was only wearing a light summer jacket.

Thank goodness she’d chosen jeans for today’s excursion to the Louvre rather than shorts. It might be full summer, but it still would have been a bit on the nippy side, strolling about the capital at night with bare legs.

I’m in my pyjamas…

Had Leo Rémy really said that on the phone?

She felt guilty at the thought of having disturbed him on his way to bed, poor man. But also knew a jolt of curiosity, envisaging him in some stylish, belted dressing-gown that stopped mid-thigh.

Good Lord.

Her mind needed to be cleaned out with wire wool.

At last, on her fourth time around the block, feeling weary and bored, a car pulled up sharply behind her in a side street.

Startled, Maeve jumped back from the kerb, fists up and ready to do battle with some unknown assailant. Struggling for a stringent French phrase to use against some would-be attacker, she was embarrassed to see Leo Rémy gazing coolly back at her through the open driver’s window.

‘Get in,’ he said unceremoniously, for his large, expensive vehicle was blocking the narrow street and another car had already come up behind them, the man behind the wheel sounding his horn despite it being past midnight.

‘Parisian drivers are so impatient,’ she grumbled, climbing in beside her rescuer, and then bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. That probably sounded horribly rude. You’re a Parisian driver too, aren’t you?’

Leo shot her an enigmatic look, accelerating away with barely a glance in his rear view mirror for the car behind. ‘Put your seat belt on,’ was all he said.

So, fumbling with her seat belt, Maeve found herself back in Leo Rémy’s increasingly familiar car, this time heading at speed through dark Parisian streets with no real idea how she was going to get through the next day or maybe two until this mess was sorted out. Somewhere out there, the coach tour would even now be on a boat back to England. If only she hadn’t gone round that corner to post her postcards. If only she had headed back to the coach earlier, or even at the last minute, and never walked down that stupid sidestreet…

They exploded out of an empty side street onto a far busier avenue, bright headlights blinding her as Leo threaded a path between swiftly moving vehicles without even slowing. Someone else honked a horn at them but Leo didn’t pay any attention, overtaking aggressively.

She wondered where all these people were going at such an early hour of the morning. Did nobody in Paris go to bed?

---