‘I know. And I get all the symbolism and everything of waiting until midnight, but this isn’t a Richard Curtis movie, hon, it’s real life.’
‘I know that!’
‘It’s dangerous. Out there on your own.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
There was a long pause. ‘Just make sure you are,’ Libby said firmly.
‘Always.’
‘And no leaving glass slippers behind.’
‘What?’
‘You know. Cinderella? Midnight? Prince Charming chasing her down with her size sixes?’
Sophie laughed. ‘No chance of that,’ she said, looking at her scuffed trainers.
‘Well good. And listen, call me when you’ve done it.’
‘At midnight?’
‘Eleven o’clock here. But promise you will? I won’t be asleep, believe me.’
‘OK.’
She ended the call and fell into step next to Tom, their aimless meandering past brightly lit shops offering too much choice at too high a price, their doors closed fast to customers until tomorrow. The Champs-Élysées had never been her favourite part of Paris. She preferred the back streets, the Latin quarter, the bits that felt hidden and special. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah.’ But something about him had changed. His feet dragged a little and she was reminded a bit of a teenager being forced to the shops. Somehow so much younger than her.
‘Did you hear Libby?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Got the gist though.’
She nodded, not making eye contact. ‘Sorry.’
‘Are you?’
She stopped, looked up at him. He stepped closer, looking down at her. ‘Fuck it, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I’m scared.’
The feeling of helplessness she’d lived with for the last of their years rose then. A kind of sick terror, an impotent rage that this was happening. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I mean, we could…’
‘Could what?’
‘Delay it?’ she said, her hand on the silver locket, as if reassuring herself she still had it. ‘Do something different? Wait?’
He shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think it would help. Once you walk away from me… Well, my life as I know it will be over.’
‘I’m sure there’ll be something,’ she lied. ‘A better thing, maybe.’
He laughed quietly to himself. ‘I hope so.’
It was five to twelve when they reached the bridge. It was almost eerily empty compared with the day. A few people walked on the shadowed pavement, meandering or pacing, walking in groups, pairs or alone. They broke away and stood at the water’s edge, looking over the wall to its churning mass reflecting the clear sky, the stars, the glow of nearby windows and the street lights. It looked alive.
‘You’re sure?’ she asked him, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.
He nodded.