Page 15 of A Lot to Unpack
I need to keep calm – which would be much easier to do had I not just realised that each time the door goes around my skirt gets pulled in a little closer, so pretty soon I’m going to be up against the glass. Could I die from this? Because I think if anyone could find a way to die from this, it would be me. Shiiiit.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I blurt, yanking at my skirt again, to no avail.
Suddenly I know what I need to do – I mean, I kind of knew this was an option already, but I’d ruled it out for obvious reasons. I need to find a way to get my skirt off. Sure, I’ll be here just, you know, in my knickers, but if my options are death by revolving door or flash and maybe get done for indecent exposure, well, I’d choose…
Hang on, I’m still thinking…
‘Excusez-moi,’ a man’s voice interrupts me from my spiralling – no pun intended. Actually, scratch that, I’m the kindof girl who uses humour to deal with things when life gets hard; there’s always a pun intended.
He’s in the same – what would we call it? – door compartment as me, walking around in circles with me.
‘You are English?’ he asks in the most French French accent I’ve ever heard, if that makes sense. I know, I’m in France, but all I can think about is how much he sounds like Lumière fromBeauty and the Beast– not to sound like the ‘childless millennial Disney adult’ I absolutely am.
‘What gave me away?’ I ask, smiling, because in Britain we keep calm and carry on, right? Carry on going round and round in a revolving door.
‘It was when I hear – how you say? – “for fuck’s sake”,’ he replies – and it sounds so, so much better when he says it.
‘Ah, that’ll do it,’ I reply.
I just smile at him – far too calmly and politely really, given my situation.
‘Can I ’elp you?’ he asks, nodding towards my skirt.
‘Oh, if you could, mate,’ I reply, and I’ve never sounded more English. I don’t even say ‘mate’ – what am I doing?
‘I think we could stop the door,’ he says, strolling beside me. We’ve done at least four rotations together now. ‘But I fear the skirt may need to come off.’
I fear that too.
‘Erm, yeah, I’m not sure how…’
‘Alors,’ he says, taking off his long coat before placing it over my shoulders. ‘Wear this.’
I do as he says, fastening up his coat over my outfit.
‘What now?’ I ask.
The Frenchman reaches out and places his hands underneath my armpits. Then he lifts me into the air, somehow keeping up the steady pace of the still-moving revolving door,and I feel my skirt slowly being tugged from my body so I wiggle my legs to help it come loose.
Look, I know this is highly embarrassing, and I’m not coming across as my best self right now, but bloody hell, this is like something out of a movie.
Finally free, the Frenchman carries me outside, out to the street, where he carefully sets me down on the pavement.
‘Voila,’ he says with a grin, and I’m almost amazed my knickers didn’t remove themselves too.
‘You’re my hero,’ I tell him. ‘My knight in shining trench coat. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Your skirt…’ he says, nodding towards the door.
Oh, boy, it’s really mangled up now. Most definitely destroyed. Thank God it was only cheap.
‘Ah, yeah, never mind,’ I say with a bat of my hand – yeah, genuinely, now I’m trying to play it cool, like that whole mess didn’t just happen. ‘I’m sure someone in the hotel will take care of it.’
‘A great attitude to have,’ he says with a smile. ‘I’m Henri.’
‘Lovely to meet you, Henri. I’m Liberty,’ I say, offering him a hand to shake, which is awfully formal given that he just lifted me out of my skirt.
‘What are you doing here in Paris, Liberty?’ he asks.
