Page 91 of Midnight in Paris

He shrugged. ‘Like it or not, it’s one ofourplaces. Maybe I’ve even come to like it a bit over the years.’

‘Even theMona Lisa?’

‘Still think she looks like George Harrison, but you know. She’s got something about her. Bit like an old friend.’

Sophie snorted. ‘Well, she does always seem to smile at you.’

‘Exactly.’ He linked his arm through hers as the taxi drew up. ‘Got to say goodbye to the old girl.’

Something like fear prickled through the bubble they were creating, and they were both silent as they got themselves into the taxi’s back seat. But when he turned to her again, his thin face beaming, it was as if it had never happened.

‘You sure?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Onwards, James!’ he said to the taxi driver who turned to them bemused.

‘Louvre, s’il vous plaît,’ Sophie said apologetically as they both giggled.

It was strange, but Tom had been right. Being in Paris made the rest of the year – all the trauma of it – kind of fall away. They were back intheirplace and just for a few days they could suspend it all: the past, the future. And just be Sophie and Tom. Tom and Sophie.

After they’d visited some of their favourite artworks and scooted past the remainder, Sophie suggested they go back to the hotel for a rest. ‘It’s been tiring,’ she said.

‘Only ifyou’retired,’ he said, shrugging a shoulder. ‘I’m OK, honestly.’

She looked at him, his open, honest eyes. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yeah. It’s weird. It’s like… I don’t know. Maybe I just feel better than I did before. You know, during all the treatment. I mean, the painkillers are pretty heavy, but even so I’m kind of… it’s like I feel better.’

They looked at each other for a moment then, both unable to express the tiny hope they both carried that, despite his diagnosis, something miraculous could yet happen. Because it did, sometimes, didn’t it? People lived for a long time under thecloud of a terminal diagnosis. And doctors made mistakes all the time.

Sophie broke her gaze away and straightened up, hand in the small of her back where she’d been bending to push. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘How about we go over the bridge?’

‘The Pont du Carrousel?’

‘Yeah. But maybe not midnight, this time? Maybe now would be better.’

He gave a single, decisive nod. ‘Yeah. Think so,’ he said softly.

It wasn’t far, but they took a taxi anyway, both silently acknowledging that it was probably for the best. Soon they were standing and looking over the Seine, everything the same and yet different from the years before; the flick book of almost a decade where they’d stood here and wondered about the future playing through their minds.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Tom said, standing next to her, a thin arm at her back.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Want to take a boat ride?’

He shook his head. ‘Happier just standing here for a bit, if that’s OK?’

‘Of course.’ They’d always elected to watch the boats rather than travel on them. They’d both agreed that they’d rather be on the bridge watching the action than be on the boat looking up at staring tourists. But she sometimes watched the passengers with jealousy, wondering what it would be like to be on the boat rather than on the outside.

A silence fell over them as they stood, lost in thought. The sun was warm on their backs, the river glistened underneath them, and Sophie thought of all the people who had stood in this very spot over the centuries, looking at views very similar to that she saw now, and thought about their own pasts and futures and the fragility of life. We think we’re in control of it all, she thought. But we’re not. We’re so temporary.

‘Cheer up, love, it might never happen!’ Tom said in her ear, just at the point when she felt close to tears, and instead, she felt laughter bubble up inside her.

‘God, I’m going to miss you,’ she said.

He was silent. ‘Well, with any luck you won’t have to,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy being haunted for eternity?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Do you promise?’

And they kissed, his cold lips against her warm ones, the two of them together, balancing each other out as they always had.

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