Page 74 of Midnight in Paris

Will’s Audi was waiting in the street behind her apartment block, its lights on although barely necessary; the sun had already half-risen and the sky was white and bright and luminous. She took a breath, then walked to the car, pulling open the door and sliding herself in. ‘Morning,’ she said.

‘Morning yourself. I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘Oh. Well, a promise is a promise,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light.

‘It is at that,’ he said, starting the engine, ‘and you are not going to regret this.’

‘So you keep saying,’ she told him, and was rewarded with one of his easy, relaxed smiles.

They set off through the city streets, passing early morning cyclists, and late night revellers returning home to bed. Market traders were making their way to the centre, and one or two insomniacs walked their dogs. Will parked in a precariously small space between a van and a motorbike then turned to her. ‘We have to walk the rest, I’m afraid. Parking’s a bitch.’

She’d been worried that she’d have to join the club or have a lesson or something equally painful before taking Will up on his challenge, but he’d explained that the club was pretty relaxed about things like that. ‘As long as you’re with a member, it’ll be fine,’ he’d said.

‘I suppose this is where you take all the girls,’ she quipped then stopped, embarrassed.

But he laughed. ‘Only the ones that will agree to it,’ he said, ‘so you’re pretty much the first.’

They arrived and he left her standing on the bank for a moment as he disappeared into the clubhouse. He returned shortly with a smile. ‘OK, we’re good to go!’ He pointed at the white rowing boats lined up at the edge of the water. ‘Your carriage awaits, m’lady.’ He flung his backpack into the vessel, then used the rope to pull it up against the shore, making it safe for her to stumble across without falling.

Feeling her heart rate increase, she stepped into the boat, which wobbled precariously as she lowered herself onto the seat. Will watched her, amused, before climbing in himself, setting the vessel off again. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, turning to her where she sat behind him. ‘You’ll get your sea legs soon enough!’

‘Sea legs? Isn’t this a river?’

‘See! You’re already an expert.’

He handed her an oar, which was heavier and more unwieldy than she’d imagined, and pushed off with his own oar, paddling one side to straighten the boat. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘just follow my lead.’

She dipped one end of the oar into the water and pulled, hearing the gentle sound of the river lapping against the boat.

‘Keep it steady,’ Will advised. ‘Try to stay in sync with me. That’s it.’

And suddenly, she found a wobbly, but distinct rhythm in her movement. Her attention focused in on the rowing, the sounds of wildlife and birds and the distant sound of traffic as the day came into itself. The sun sparkled on the river’s surface and the water foamed as she pulled it again and again and again, driving the boat forward. Although it was hard work, the feeling of gliding on the transparent liquid – her heart pumping, her skin prickled with moisture – was pleasant and she found herself driving harder and picking up speed.

In the seat in front, Will laughed. ‘You’re a natural!’ he said, glancing over his shoulder at her with an enormous grin.

And it was their undoing. The boat rocked violently at his sudden movement, the sides lurching wildly as they struggled to regain control. And suddenly Sophie found herself submerged in the cold water of the Cam, water in her ears and eyes, and the oar pulled out of her hands in the process. She emerged, coughing and spluttering, to find Will by her side, next to their overturned boat. His worried expression smoothed as he saw she was OK. ‘Come on,’ he said, swimming towards the bank, tugging the boat behind him. She followed and they clambered up, water streaming from their clothing.

And although the whole experience had been shocking, and although she felt freezing and weighed down and utterlydisgusting, when Sophie looked at Will and saw the barely disguised amusement in his eyes, she found laughter bubbling up inside her.

He caught the mood and suddenly together they were shaking with half-suppressed giggles, her leaning towards him, him towards her. ‘I can’t believe we…’ she gasped.

‘Told you it was relaxing,’ he replied, before letting out another bark of laughter.

Once the humour had subsided and the cold had fully seeped in, Will stood up. ‘I’d give you my jumper, but…’ He gestured to the damp wool as it clung to his chest. ‘Oh, but hang on!’ He rummaged in his backpack. ‘Yes!’ He held up a fleece, as triumphant as an angler hooking an enormous fish. ‘It’s still dry.’

‘Oh, God. No. You have it,’ she said as he offered it to her.

‘Come on, Soph. I have an extra layer of fat to keep me warm.’

The cold had reached her bones now and it was impossible to refuse. ‘OK, thank you.’

He turned his back as she pulled her top and T-shirt over her head, holding the fleece out behind him for her to grab. She slipped it over her head, feeling an instant shiver of grateful warmth.

‘Thanks.’

He turned. ‘Suits you!’ he said, noting how swamped she was in the man-size garment.

‘Thanks. You know you should take yours off.’