Page 34 of Five Gold Rings

‘Ne pleure jamais pour un homme. Mangez plutôt un excellent gâteau.’

‘Never cry over a man, eat excellent cake instead.’

The old lady smiles at me. ‘Ou baise un beau garçon comme toi.’ I take a sharp inhalation of breath, my eyes wide. Eat cake or fuck a nice-looking boy like me.

‘What did she say?’ Eve asks, trying to join in with the joke.

‘Cake is the answer.’

‘Oui,’ Eve replies. ‘C’est delicieux.’

‘Une Perdrix dans un Poirier.’

I smile as she says it. ‘This one is calledA Partridge in a Pear Tree.’

A magically perfect piece of cake. Eve smiles at me and that winter light streams through the window and catches her face perfectly as she tucks strands of hair behind her ear. The old lady watches both of us.

‘Well, merci for the cake and the excellent life advice,’ Eve says. ‘I just need a moment to fix my face in the ladies. Excusez-moi.’ She pushes her chair back, heading over to the bathrooms by the counter. I watch her walk away, Henriette observing the concern etched in my face.

‘Your French is good…’ she tells me, settling in her seat, taking out a cigarette that I’m sure she can’t smoke in here. She gives her dog a treat from her pocket.

I turn to her smiling. ‘Merci beaucoup.’

‘You did not translate a lot of what I was saying,’ she tells me, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘My Clément would be sad.’

I shake my head at her. ‘Madame, you used some exceptionally naughty words. This is Le Manger, it is not a Starbucks,’ I say, mocking her. The old lady finds this hysterical and cackles, frightening her dog and making the coffee cups rattle. ‘Plus, you were trying to force a romantic situation between the two of us.’

‘So? I am French and an old romantic. And also quite old. It is allowed. I saw the way you look at her.’

I shrug my shoulders.

The old lady looks me up and down. ‘Well, if you’re not going to seduce her, do I have a chance?’ she asks me.

I laugh, but then she winks at me. Oh shit, she’s serious. I’ve heard about her husband. I don’t think I can compete.

I think it may be time to leave.

NINE

Eve

Ring 2: Flat profile, 18k yellow gold wedding band. Engraved. For Mike.

I don’t know French, not really. I mean, there are phrases etched into my memory. I am sure I could introduce you to everyone in my family, tell you all the months of the year and give you some solid directions to a post office, but it turns out Joe speaks French like a proper French person, and this is new information. Bilingualism is strangely hot. I really think that’s how they should sell foreign language courses. Not that I’ve told him he’s hot, but it’s another detail about this man revealing itself to me. He walks with me into this hotel now, our arms still linked, and I pull him closer. Is it for the warmth, the security or the French? Either way, I appreciate the arm. At the end of the day, Joe knew what I needed when I broke down in front of that ice rink and he didn’t shame me for expressing any of that. He’s still here, propping me up.

‘Merry Christmas, Eve,’ a doorman says in tails and a posh hat, waiting by the kerb. I giggle at the formality of it all, maybe because he said my name. ‘Both of you look lovely today,’ he comments.

‘Why, thank you,’ Joe replies, ‘It’s all her though, I know.’

The doorman winks and I blush, not quite knowing how to take the compliment. At least it tells me that I managed to fix my make-up in the patisserie before and don’t look like a big sobbing mess.

‘In my supermarket dress,’ I whisper, trying to downplay the comment, pushing my way through a heavy brass revolving door, Joe right behind me.

‘That’s how well you pull it off,’ he says, his hand to my shoulder. He’s cute, if mistaken. I pause to take in his touch. Probably not the best place to do that, though, as the door keeps revolving and I trip slightly, both of us stumbling into the foyer of that hotel. It’s a classy entrance.

‘Gotcha,’ Joe says, catching me. I like how he does that. How he holds my hand and keeps me upright. It’s not going unnoticed. ‘Wow,’ he mutters under his breath.

I’m not sure if he’s aiming that at me but then my gaze follows his, admiring the grandeur of this very posh hotel. Definitely wow. Our heads swing back like children in wonderment, trying to take it all in. ‘Am I allowed to say this place is swish as fuck?’ Joe says under his breath, just in case this establishment doesn’t allow for such words.

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