Page 63 of The Paris Trip

Ridiculously, she felt annoyed by his protective stance. Though she was grateful for it as well. Especially when, to her relief, the steward backed off.

Eventually, once the paramedic had declared her unhurt and gone on his way, and Maeve had signed a waiver, foregoing her right to make any future complaint against the boat company for negligence, they were allowed to disembark.

In fact, they were urged to disembark, the steward practically pushing them both off the boat.

Those still waiting impatiently onboard applauded their departure, some even cheering when the gangplank was withdrawn and the boat finally pulled away from the jetty, back on course. One of the men watching had clearly recognised Leo, for he called out his name and, when Leo glanced his way, snapped a photo.

‘Merde,’ Leo muttered.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she told him. ‘So much for us keeping a low profile. Did you see them all filming us when I got hauled out of the water?’

‘Yes.’

He sounded terse, and small wonder.

Maeve stared after the boat with a glum expression. ‘I’m such an idiot,’ she said dejectedly, picking more river weed from her hair. ‘I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?’

‘Maybe not a complete fool,’ Leo said.

‘Thanks.’

He sighed. ‘Look, it’s no big deal.’

‘Seriously? Were you even watching? I fell into the Seine.’ She pulled a tenacious piece of weed from her hair. ‘Blearh.’

She’d expected Leo to be stressed and impatient, rightly annoyed by her antics, not least because he’d been forced to text his grandmother during the rescue to let her know they’d been unavoidably delayed. Instead, looking down into her damp, unhappy face, he chuckled.

‘I was watching, yes. And okay, yes, you did fall into the Seine. Here, allow me,’ he murmured, gently extracting another strand of green weed from her hair. ‘But you didn’t drown,’ he pointed out. ‘They got you out. You’re unhurt. And alive.’

‘Yes, but I lost my lovely hat…’ Adding insult to injury, the floppy straw hat had blown out of reach during the rescue attempt. She had groaned to herself, watching as it bobbed away on the dirty water, eventually sinking to a watery grave in the distance. ‘You bought me that hat and I got to wear it for less than an hour.’

‘True.’ With surprising patience, Leo guided her up a steep flight of stone steps that led onto the left bank of the river. ‘But it wasn’t expensive. And I can always buy you another one.’

‘That’s kind, but no thank you,’ she told him miserably. ‘It would only blow away again and I’d probably fall off the… the Eiffel Tower or something, trying to get it back.’

‘Then I won’t take you to the Eiffel Tower.’

‘Oh you… You’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?’

His eyebrows rose. ‘What gave it away?’

‘I did something ludicrous and ruined everyone’s day.’ Her voice choked. ‘What happened… That was the kind of thing other people do, not me… Not Maeve Eden. Everyone knows that I’m organised and reliable and trustworthy. I don’t lose p-p-passports or fall off b-b-boats into rivers.’ The stutter did nothing for her confidence, her cheeks burning with humiliation as she recalled all those onlookers filming her moment of supreme idiocy.

No doubt she was on social media somewhere now, gaining some influencer thousands of hits. She only hoped nobody could make out her face at that distance. Though given that someone had recognised Leo, it was a thin hope…

‘You were trying to keep us out of the media,’ she added miserably. ‘Now I’ve made everything a hundred times worse. I don’t deserve to feel better.’

To her embarrassment, her trainers were making loud sloshing noises with every step, no doubt still waterlogged. But at least they had stayed on her feet. At one stage, she had feared she might have to try removing them. But, only being cheap sports pumps, they had remained lightweight enough not to pull her under…

‘If that’s how you see yourself,’ he said after a moment’s contemplation, perhaps listening to the noisy slosh of every step, ‘I understand now why you were so upset at losing your rucksack.’ He studied her thoughtfully. ‘You still blame yourself for what happened. Not the thief.’

‘Well, if I hadn’t taken my eye off my rucksack –’

‘You were looking after my grandmother.’

‘But I should have kept the bag on my back. Then I’d still have it.’ She nursed that bitter thought for a moment, her heart flooding with unhappiness. ‘I would never have lost my passport. I’d be back home in England right now, sitting on my sofa, having a nice cup of tea –’

‘Yes, and you and I would never have encountered each other,’ he interrupted. ‘Or only for a few minutes on the street before I drove my grandmother to the hospital. You would never have seen the inside of Château Rémy or met Nonna and the rest of my family… Or allowed me the great privilege of painting you.’ His dark eyes seemed to pierce to the back of her skull. ‘Is that truly what you’d prefer? That we had never met?’

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