Page 13 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
‘Let me carry that,’ said Joel, looking at her backpack.
‘No,’ she said, lifting it over her shoulder.
‘Only trying to–’
‘Well don’t.’ She pointed in the direction of Oscar’s grave and set off walking, pulling him after her. ‘Are you steady on your feet now?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘So – you live in Paris. What’s the story there?’
She didn’t reply at first.
‘If you don’t mind me asking?’
She glanced across at him. She could give him the bare bones. ‘I did horticulture at uni, always wanted to work with plants and happily for me, my godmother has a flower shop here. She offered me a job, found me a flat – it even came with a cat. Guess I’m a lucky girl.’
‘You really are. Paris is a lot nicer than Oop North.’
She felt herself calming again as the beauty of the cemetery worked its magic.
‘How come you’re in Sheffield?’ she asked.
‘Moved there for my job.’
‘Which is?’
‘Data analyst.’
‘I have no idea what that means.’
‘It’s as boring as it sounds. But it pays well. I work for a big corporate.’
‘Oh.’ She stopped at a fork in the path, trying to get her bearings. Then said ‘Oh!’ again, louder, as a little black cat appeared ahead of them. Was that the cat from earlier?
‘Hello again!Bonjour!’ called Chloe.
‘You know the cats?’
‘They’re my friends,’ she said. Then after a pause, ‘My only friends in Paris, actually. I’m probably as tragic as you when it comes to friends.’
‘You’re the cemetery crazy cat lady.’
‘I am.’
The cat gazed at them with its headlight green eyes, then trotted off along the right-hand fork before disappearing back into the jumble of tombs.
‘This way,’ said Chloe, following the cat’s lead.
‘I’ve got a cat, too.’
‘Oh! What sort? What’s its name?’
‘Ginger tom. Oscar. I bought a house last year.’
‘In Sheffield?’
‘Yep.’
‘Youmustbe well paid.’
