Page 44 of Midnight in Paris

She laughed, mock-slapped him. ‘Very funny.’

‘Mum like the dress?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good.’

It would be better to be like Tom about it, she decided. He didn’t particularly care what colour his tie was, or whether the best man would prefer a grey or blue suit. He was letting the whole wedding thing wash over him, relying on Sophie and his mother to direct him and simply electing to turn up and make his vows. Tom, in her situation, wouldn’t be worried whether the dress reflected his personality or not. He’d just shove it on.

The thought of Tom in her wedding dress made her snort.

‘What?’ he said, looking at the screen, then down at her.

‘Nothing. Just thinking,’ she said again.

He kissed the top of her head. ‘My little weirdo,’ he said affectionately, and she smiled.

‘Yep! That’s me!’ Then, ‘Tom, do your parents like me?’

‘What sort of question is that?’

‘Humour me.’

He shifted, looked at her. ‘Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they? Hang on, don’t your parents likeme?’

She coloured. ‘Of course they do,’ she parroted.

And she remembered Sam. Of course, it didn’t matter anyway.

19

TWO WEEKS AGO

It was as if time were bearing down on them. And she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It was dark now, the shops had closed and the streets had changed – people passed them dressed-up, moving in groups, clouds of perfume and cigarettes. Restaurants and bars were packed, their windows clouding with condensation.

Libby’s name flashed up on her phone screen.

Sophie’s initial reaction was to bin the call, but she found herself answering, miming a ‘sorry’ to Tom.

‘Hi Soph,’ came the familiar voice.

‘Hi yourself.’

‘So, how’s Paris? Spent all your honeymoon savings on high fashion? Fallen in love with a penniless French artist?’

‘Lib, it’s not a good time.’

There was a pause. ‘Sorry, chick.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘But… well, have you done it? Drawn a line in the sand or the… I don’t know, the sediment of the Seine?’

A flash of anger. ‘Libby!’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound flippant. I’m just… it’s hard knowing you’re there on your own. I’ll feel a lot better when it’s done.’

‘I’m just waiting for midnight.’

---