Page 26 of Be Less Panda

‘I’m sure Hans will find you irresistible in it,’ Olivia said with a cheeky grin.

‘Stop matchmaking. I don’t want Hans to find me irresistible. He’s good company, but there’s no point in getting involved when I’ll be leaving in a few months.’

Olivia looked amused. ‘If you call going for coffee with him every evening after work, not getting involved.’

‘We just chat, that’s all.’

Nancy checked the price tag and gasped. ‘We’re going be on bread and cheese for the rest of the year if you buy a dress from here.’ She quickly returned it to the rail.

‘Don’t exaggerate!’ Olivia laughed. ‘Only a couple of months, I’d say.’ She disappeared behind the changing cubicle curtain. ‘I haven’t got much choice. I can’t turn up to Pierre’s family chateau in last year’s fashions, can I?’

Nancy rolled her eyes. ‘You haven’t got your hands on the vineyard income yet. How would anyone tell if you wore one from last year?’

Olivia stuck her head around the changing room curtain. ‘His mother is a former model. She’ll notice. I need to create a good first impression.’

Surely Pierre’s mother wouldn’t care. But Olivia had decided she needed a new frock, and Nancy knew better than to argue.

Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from the boutique with Olivia carrying a large bag containing not one but two dresses. ‘I’ll need to get changed for dinner,’ Olivia had reasoned. They headed in the direction of the Seine.

‘Let’s have a break for coffee,’ Olivia said.

‘A break?’ Nancy said. ‘How many more dresses do you need?’

‘None, you’ll be pleased to know. But I do need new shoes. I haven’t got any that will go with these,’ she said, looking at the shopping bag. ‘Let's refuel first. We’ll head for that café over there. They had a rather nice waiter last time I went in.’

Nancy didn’t object. Offering opinions on the countless dresses Olivia had tried on this morning had proved to be surprisingly exhausting. A drink and a croque monsieur would do nicely.

The only snag was the café was at the other end of the street, and they’d have to walk past several shops to get there. Nancy had her fingers crossed that none of them was a shoe shop or another clothing boutique. She was willing to abandon Olivia if she so much as looked in another shop window. But it turned out to be Nancy’s turn to get distracted. There was a newsagent just before the café, and the photo on the front of one of the newspapers caught Nancy’s eye.

‘Why have we stopped?’ Olivia said.

‘It’s annoying, isn’t it,’ said Nancy. ‘I recognise that man.’

‘Which one?’

‘This one.’ Nancy picked up the newspaper and pointed to a thin gentleman of about 55.

‘Who is he?’

‘I know him as Monsieur Lambert or Mr Wednesday at 3 pm,’ Nancy said, raising her eyebrows.

‘Ooh. One of Madame Dubois’s regulars. Let’s have a look.’

The newsagent glared at them from inside his kiosk. ‘We’re not a library,’ he said grumpily in French.

‘We better pay for this one.’ Olivia handed over the correct coins. ‘We’ll take it to the café.’

When they were seated, Olivia looked at the caption. ‘He’s not Monsieur Lambert according to this. He’s Monsieur Leroux. Are you sure it’s the same man?’

‘Absolutely sure. He has an odd-shaped ear - it folds over at the top. There can’t be many men who look exactly like that.’

‘He must use an alias at Madame Dubois’s then.’

‘Who is he?’

‘The Minister for Justice,’ Olivia said. ‘Impressive. Madame Dubois provides services for France’s elite. She’ll be up for a Legion of Honour next.

‘No wonder he uses an alias, but you’d think he’d have work to do on Wednesdays at 3 pm.’

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