Page 1 of Midnight in Paris

PROLOGUE

TWO WEEKS AGO

Sophie leant on the cool stone of the bridge, her toes flexed, lifting her a little higher so that below she could see the water froth and whirl. She tried not to think about whether he would come.

The Seine continued at a rapid pace, the peaks and troughs of its surface thrown into light and shadow by the sun’s rays, which sprinkled it like glitter. A boat passed, packed with tourists leaning against the railings, photographing the view, taking selfies. Their clothes were a riot of colour against the turquoise-brown water, and their chatter broke through the other sounds of Paris – the buzz and growl of traffic, the hum of pedestrians, the fizz and whorl of the passing river – then drifted away on the wind.

It was busier than it had been the first time they’d stood here, but other than that the view had barely changed in the years that stretched between then and now – the sandstone buildings topped with grey tiles, the majestic lines of windows gazing down on the trees in their uniform, clipped lines. They’d always loved standing here on the Pont du Carrousel, gazing out overthis very patch of the river. If he was coming, he would know to find her here.

Soon enough, as she turned her gaze from the water, she saw him approaching, recognisable even at a distance with his habitual swaggering walk. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ she said as he drew closer.

He chuckled warmly, the sound sending shivers of memory through her. ‘And miss this?’ he said with a mischievous grin. ‘Never.’

Sophie didn’t answer. She turned towards him, trying to keep her expression neutral. ‘You know it has to be the last time?’ she said. ‘I have to move on, we both do.’

‘You’ve said that before.’

‘Yes, but Tom, this time I mean it.’

His eyes danced with laughter, as they so often did. ‘You’ve saidthatbefore, too.’

He was closer now, almost touching her. She raised her hands slightly as if to stop him. ‘I’m getting married, Tom,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘To Will.’

He nodded, the smile not leaving his lips. ‘I know, Soph.’

‘You love Will.Ilove Will. I can’t hurt him, Tom. I can’t come again.’

‘To Paris? You love Paris!’

‘Welove Paris,’ she said, dipping her head. ‘It won’t be the same without you.’

He shook his head. ‘You flatter me,’ he said. ‘People have been coming to Paris for centuries and as far as I know, they’re here to see the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. Not Tom Gardner.’

She gave a small laugh, then turned back towards the water, watching the last of the light shimmer on its surface as the daybegan to give way to dusk. ‘It won’t be the same forme,’ she said. ‘Paris is ours. And this…’

‘…has to be the last time,’ he finished for her. ‘I know. Can we not talk about it?’

‘What else do you want to talk about?’ she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. ‘Pretty much anything else.’

She looked at him. ‘Remember when we met?’

1

THE FIRST SUMMER – 2011

The first trip to Paris had been Tom’s idea.

He’d given her the envelope when she’d been sitting on the edge of his bed, slipping her trainers on, ready to disappear to class. Reaching past her, he’d pulled it from a drawer at the bedside and handed it over.

‘What’s this?’ she said. ‘Exam results or something?’

‘Open it.’ He grinned, confident of her reaction.

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