Page 40 of The Paris Trip

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Bernadette said, hesitating on the threshold with uncharacteristic shyness.

‘I doubt that you’re sorry.’ Leo frowned, addressing his sister in rapid French, ‘And why are you disturbing us? Can’t you see that I’m busy?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Good God, is that the time?’

‘It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re working again,’ Bernadette replied in the same language, ‘but this is urgent.’

Leo lowered the sketch pad, instantly alert. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

From behind her back, Bernadette produced Maeve’s rucksack. ‘The police dropped this off earlier. But I’ve only just tracked Maeve down. She wasn’t in her bedroom… How was I to know she’d been in here with you in the middle of the night?’ Her smile was almost malicious.

With a shriek of joy, Maeve dashed forward and was rewarded with her beloved rucksack. Well, not beloved. Nobody loves their rucksack. But in that moment, she loved it, and even hugged it to her chest, because it meant she was saved.

Then she weighed it in her hand.

‘But… it… it’s empty.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid the thieves cleared it out. Apart from a few personal effects that they didn’t bother taking,’ Bernadette told her in careful, slow English mixed with a few French phrases when she couldn't recall the correct word. ‘It was found behind some, erm, dustbins not far from where it was stolen. So the thieves probably emptied it and threw it away within minutes of stealing it. The police have left a number where you can talk to them, if you’d like. But, other than that, they say there’s no news. Your passport is still missing, and although they found, erm, fingerprints on the bag, the prints don’t match anything in their databank.’

Maeve unzipped the rucksack and peered inside. She had half-hoped to find her notebook inside, but it was gone. Her passport and mobile phone and all her notes on important phone numbers had been in that notebook.

Scrabbling about in the bottom of the rucksack, she found only pens and a few other odds and ends. A packet of gum. Hairbands.

She groaned, closing her eyes. ‘They’ve taken everything of any value. I suppose I was lucky to get the bag back. Much good it will do me.’

‘Have you checked all the compartments?’ Leo asked, his voice a disturbing rumble in her ear. ‘If they only had it a few minutes, they may not have been very thorough.’

She turned, surprised to find him standing so close to her, also peering into the empty rucksack. ‘I don’t imagine there’ll be anything…’ she muttered, but unzipped the small side pocket, and stilled, staring. ‘Oh, there is something.’ She produced the faded photograph of her grandmother. ‘It’s a miracle,’ she breathed.

Bernadette came forward to peer over their shoulders at the photograph. ‘A miracle?’ She sounded puzzled, glancing at her brother. ‘Je comprends pas. Who’s that in the photo? Why is it important?’

‘My grandmother,’ Maeve explained. ‘It’s the only picture I have of her, and I stupidly never made a copy. I thought it had been lost forever.’

‘May I?’ Leo took the photograph and studied it. ‘That looks familiar. How do I know that street?’ he mused, then turned over the photograph and read the address out loud. ‘Ah, yes… I’ve taken Grandmère there a few times. In fact, I think that woman may be a friend of hers.’

Maeve’s mouth fell open. She was probably gaping like a goldfish but didn’t care. ‘Your grandmother knows my grandmother?’ Astonishment made her voice lift to an almost childish pitch as she asked, ‘You definitely know that street? Are you sure? You’re not making this up, are you?’

‘Why would I make it up?’ He shook his head, handing her back the photograph. ‘Grandmère will be asleep now. But I’ll speak to her first thing in the morning.’

He touched his sister’s arm. ‘Thanks, Bernadette. You did the right thing, bringing the bag up tonight.’

‘But I still don’t understand,’ she said in French. ‘Are you saying Maeve’s grandmother is French?’

‘That’s what my father told me.’ Maeve spoke in French too, staring down at the lady in the faded photograph, who looked so like her. She had not expected to feel so much emotion on being reunited with this priceless piece of family memorabilia. ‘Now I’ve got this back, maybe I’ll be able to find out more.’ She glanced hopefully at Leo, who nodded.

‘Of course we must find out. I can see how much it means to you.’ He bustled Bernadette out of the door, thanking her again with a wolfish grin. ‘First though,’ he said, reverting to English, ‘would you mind just standing there with that photograph for a few minutes, while I take some sketches?’

‘What? Are you kidding?’ Maeve took a shaky breath, battling with outrage. ‘You are beyond everything, Leo Rémy. I swear, I’m living through a nightmare here. I’m exhausted. I need to sleep and… and…’

‘And spend time with your photograph?’ Leo was already sketching her, ignoring her passionate outburst.

‘Well, yes.’

‘You can spend time with your photograph standing there,’ he pointed out, ‘while I draw you.’

She felt like stamping her foot. But she didn’t want to come across like a spoilt schoolgirl. Not when he was so cool and controlled.

‘You’re incorrigible,’ she muttered.

‘Thank you,’ he said seriously.

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