Sylvie’s cheeks flared with heat. “Such as?”
Isa’s laugh rang out. “Your fine wit.”
Sylvie didn’t feel very witty right now, or attractive. Sweat pooled at her armpits, and she regretted the choice of fibers this morning.
“Seriously, just have some fun,” Isa said. “Try not to close down every possibility, and you never know who might walk into your life when you least expect it.”
“I’ll think about it. For now, I need shade and water. Until next time.” She kissed Isa three times on the cheeks and turned into the glare of the sun.
Seeking out the narrowest, shadiest streets, Sylvie strolled slowly to exert the least amount of energy possible. A hush fell over the city as Sunday afternoon stretched toward the evening, and everyone enjoyed the lull before the storm of the nightlife. This place rarely stilled. There was always someone enjoying themselves somewhere. But on a Sunday, or early in the morning before dawn, Sylvie found time to catch her breath.
She paused at the Place St Roch and sat on the steps of the church, in the welcome shadow of the tall, impressive building. She looked up to the drawn shutters of her apartment, grateful she’d had the foresight to block out the afternoon sun and save herself from a stifling return home.
She’d slowed down here, in the heat of the south. It was nothing like the frenetic pace she’d kept up in Paris. Sometimes, she even had time to hear her thoughts and wonder. What did she want now she’d accepted a permanent job at the university? Was the city home? Except Isa and a couple of colleagues, there was no one to come home to. No one to share her day with.
Her mind drifted to her parents’ smallholding along the coast near Sète. Each year that passed, they worked their little plot together, turning another vegetable bed over to rest. She smiled, the taste of her mother’s cassoulet stirring in her memory.
She’d visit as soon as she could. Isa was right: the summer had passed all too quickly, and she wasn’t quite ready for the return to a timetable which meant her balmy late nights would be curtailed until at least the reading week.
“Sylvie, I’ll see you tonight?” Colette waved from her café across the square.
“Maybe. Save me something nice just in case.” She smiled. The prettiest around, Colette’s place was nestled between a launderette and a crêperie, its bottle-green doors flanked by hanging baskets of little flowers tumbling down the stone wall.
“Okay, come down when you wake up from your nap.” Colette washed down another table ready for the evening service. She worked like a horse, all day and night.
“I will do. It’s been a hard day at the office.” Sylvie laughed and shrugged off the post-wine haze. The guilt of not making progress on her book lingered like the smell of rainy drains. She hadn’t worked hard enough this summer. The sands of time had fallen through her hands as she’d laid on the beach at Palavas, the waves lapping gently at the Mediterranean shore. But she’d be back at it tomorrow, and nothing was going to get in the way of keeping that publishing advance.
This year, she’d be more productive than ever and show the university bigwigs that she deserved her place at the top table. She’d earned it. Hadn’t she?
CHAPTER TWO
Adelaide Poole staredinto her twin’s eyes, her knee twitching with guilt. “What have I forgotten?”
Stephanie frowned her familiar frown: a sign that Ade had fallen short again. “Dad just messaged to say he sent a package to the hotel in Paris. Did you not tell them we were leaving today?”
“Okay, did you really ask me to, or did you infer it and expect me to read your mind? Because either way, no, I didn’t tell Dad we were leaving Paris.”
Steph tsked. “I told you that Dad and Pops would be worried about us if they didn’t know exactly where we were.”
Ade blinked and nodded, remembering the conversation they’d had back home. “Well, that’s not asking me to do it. That’s telling me about their feelings.” She stiffened under Steph’s glare. “You couldn’t have told them yourself?”
“Are you for real? I had a million things to remember before this trip. You couldn’t handle one simple task?”
Ade wriggled against the seat of the train, the fabric scratching her back even though she’d worn two layers for the journey. She stared at the table, blocking the noise from the nearby passengers.
“Ade? Are you listening?” Steph tapped her shoulder.
The thirty-minute head start from their rent-a-womb had really given Steph the edge. Ade was always catching up, trying to work out which conversation to prioritize or which tab in her overloaded brain to close. It was a truth she’d long since accepted: she was the weak link in their family chain. Despite her dads’ constant love and support, somehow, she managed to screw up. A lot.
Ade blinked against the harsh sunlight and tuned into therumble of the train car against the tracks. She hadn’t eaten since the Gare de Lyon and her head pounded.
“We’ll be there soon, and we can grab a bite,” Stephanie said with a gentle nudge.
Ade bounced her knee out of time with the train’s jog along the track. The apprehension of starting her new life in the South of France gnawed deep in her abdomen. She’d been in her comfort zone at the Northern Californian college, which had shielded her from the realities of adulting for the last six years.
But she could only blame herself for the upheaval of spending a year abroad. She’d spent far too long with her head down in the lab and had attracted the unwanted attention of her supervisors. Looking after her marine animals wasn’t enough, they’d said; she had to take on other duties. Peopling. Mentoring students. All the things she’d avoided since graduation.
She rubbed dust from the train’s window and revealed the horizon. The dry landscape of southern France reminded her a little of California. Not that she’d been further than the Monterey city limits that often. Places she didn’t know confused her, so she did her best to avoid that.
