Page 19 of Be Less Panda

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t get through.’

‘That’s a shame. Try again after lunch.’

‘I know where he lives, so I could deliver it.’

‘Even better! I always like to exceed my customers’ expectations. Is it far?’

‘No. Only a few streets away, very near my flat.’

‘Excellent. You must take it with you when you finish this evening.’

Nancy left work promptly, clutchingBleak Houseneatly wrapped in plain brown paper and tied up with red satin ribbon, which Madame Dubois conjured up from somewhere in the depths of her desk drawer. She had tucked a business card under it, which Nancy studied on the way home. “Bespoke bindings for the discerning customer” was embossed on one side, with the shop phone number printed in black underneath. On the other side, Madame Dubois had written. “Thank you for your order. If we can help you with any of your binding needs, please pop in again.”

It was an odd thing to write. Nancy hadn’t really thought about the “bespoke bindings” aspect of the business since the day she saw it mentioned on the sign outside the shop. As far as Nancy was aware, all the books they supplied were standard ones unless Madame Dubois’s appointments with her gentleman callers were to do with recovering old books. She’d not considered that as an option, though it was more realistic than the brothel theory. None of them had left with a book-sized parcel yet, though. She’d have to ask Madame Dubois when she returned to work tomorrow.

The sky had clouded over. It looked like it was about to rain, which was a shame because when Nancy had left thehouse this morning, Paris had been bathed in glorious sunshine, and she’d confidently stepped outside without bothering to take a coat. Judging by the state of the pavements, it had rained earlier this afternoon too. She started walking as fast as she could.Bad clothing choice, Nancy - there’s no chance of running in this pencil skirt.

As she turned the corner into the next street, large raindrops began to spatter the pavement. Great! It wasn’t just a shower, it was going to throw it down. Nancy picked up her pace with her head down as the rain became heavier. She tucked Hans’ book under her jumper, unconvinced that the brown paper would be enough to protect it from a downpour.

A car sped past, spraying her with water from a large puddle in the gutter. She looked down at the muddy spots that were now all over her pale blue skirt. It was going to have to go to the dry cleaners now. Where even was the nearest dry cleaner? She’d have to consult Olivia when she got home.

By the time Nancy arrived at number 27, she was soaked. She opened her handbag to get out the keys, but they weren’t there. It was only a small bag, so how could they be hidden? Then she remembered taking the rubbish downstairs before she left for work this morning. She’d put the keys in her coat pocket so she could get back in the apartment, but, of course, the coat was now hanging on the back of a dining chair inside. Marvellous. What a perfect day. She rang the bell.

Madame Morceau opened the door immediately. Wrapped up in a hat and coat, she looked as if she was on her way out.

‘I forgot my keys,’ Nancy explained in English, struggling to recall what the French for keys was.

Madame Morceau looked Nancy up and down disgustedly, then she stood back to let her in. She turned and slammed the door shut after herself without offering Nancyany further help.Let’s hope Olivia is back from work.If she isn’t, you’re going to be stuck outside in your dirty, sodden clothing.

Nancy ran across the courtyard to the stairs and stood dripping in the small hallway. She wiped her hand across her face to stop the water running off her nose. She looked at the bump under her jumper. Her original plan had been to drop the book off with Hans on the way upstairs, but there was no way she wanted him to see her in this state. She’d have to pop down with it later after she’d dried off and got changed.

She climbed the stairs to the top floor and knocked on the apartment door. There was no reply. ‘Olivia!’ Nancy shouted through the door. ‘I forgot my keys.’ She banged more stridently this time. Still no reply.

‘Can I help?’ a familiar voice behind her asked.

She turned to see Hans standing at the top of the stairs. He had that slightly amused expression again. ‘Herr Schmidt,’ she said.

‘Hello, Nancy. Please call me Hans. I heard you banging on the door.’

‘I forgot my keys.’

‘Madame Morceau should be able to let you in.’

‘She was on her way out when I arrived.’

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘But Olivia should be back from work any moment now.’ Nancy shivered, realising the rain had soaked through to her underwear. It felt clammy against her skin now that she was standing still.

‘You will catch a cold like that,’ he said, looking concerned.

She smiled, trying to make light of the situation, though inside, she was cursing her bad luck. This was only the third time that Hans had met her, and yet again, she was in some form of distress. Even if she had wanted to start going out with him, there was no way those feelings would be reciprocated now. ‘I do feel a little like a drowned rat.’

‘Or some other animal,’ he grinned.

What did he mean by that? Another droplet of water ran down her nose and dripped onto the floor.

‘You are welcome to wait in my flat until Olivia comes home,’ Hans offered.

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