That man! ‘If you’re talking monetary value, maybe, but isn’t that a shallow way to look at the world?’
The mocking smile melts right off Pascale’s face. ‘What I meant was—’ His words peter out as Guillaume picks up a box of stock and marches in my direction. Pascale says, ‘Lilou, is this about the candles again?’
Guillaume stops midway between us, his eyes crinkling with suspicion. It’s like a standoff.
‘No, I’ve noted your sensitivities to candles, music, pot plants, my singing, and all the other things you’ve complained about. This is about you belittling me in order to feel better about yourself.’
Pascale’s retort dries right there on his lips. Eventually, he manages, ‘It was a joke…’
Guillaume shakes his head and takes a step towards me.
I fold my arms and lean against the door jamb. ‘Which part was funny?’
‘I’m sorry, Lilou.’
Oh, I see right through this amicable persona that’s meant purely for Guillaume’s benefit.
‘You two can sort it out later.’ Guillaume finally tires of our back and forth-ing. ‘Now, Lilou, your delivery. The rest of my day is going to be a shambles if I don’t catch up.’
We head inside Ephemera and, as I turn, I see what appears to be real worry on Pascale’s face. Doesn’t he understand that the show is over?
I drop my voice low and ask Guillaume, ‘Any news about Paris Sweethearts?’
He grunts but fights a smile that plays at his lips. ‘For the hundredth time, Lilou, it’s Paris Cupid. You might want to write that down.’
I ignore the jibe and fight my own smile. ‘Well?’
‘If you must know, you busy body meddler, I’ve been matched with a certain Clementine. I happen to know of her. She owns thefromagerieon Rue Damrémont.’
‘You know her? You’ve written already?’
‘Non. You see, all I was given was her first name, and I was informed that she runs a successfulfromageriein Paris. It didn’t take a genius to work out it was Clementine D’Amboise becauseof her first name and the fact her shop is around the corner from my apartment. I’ve stopped in on occasion for fromage but haven’t personally made her acquaintance before.’ I hadn’t even considered he might know her, which is rather naïve of me considering he is a cheese lover and herfromagerieis in Montmartre.
‘So you could cheat the system and go in and introduce yourself?’
He looks up, alarmed. ‘That’s not how this works, Lilou. I’m going to write her a letter this evening. Or maybe tomorrow. Or on Monday. Wednesday at the latest.’ This is a worry. He’s had her contact details for a few weeks already and he hasn’t written.
‘Has she written to you?’
‘Non.’
I take a moment to figure out how best to ease his nerves. ‘Would reading a love letter here help, Guillaume? I have all sorts. Formal, informal, passionate, polite.’
He double blinks. ‘Are you implying I don’t know how to express myself?’
With an emphatic shake of my head, I say, ‘Of course not! I’m confident you’ll express yourself in the most articulate of ways. Only, I wondered if these penned letters might serve useful as inspiration.’
He looks up to the heavens as if he needs a miracle having to deal with me. ‘If I don’t agree, I suppose you’ll keep harping on about me not trying hard enough and then I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll have to speed read as I’m already behind today so only give me the very best. None of that purple prose, lovey dovey stuff either.’
As ever, Guillaume won’t admit he needs help so I play along. ‘You’re a man who knows his own mind, a wonderful trait in a partner. Give me two minutes.’
‘Two! I’ll give you one.’
I shake my head as I find a selection of love letters that are a little more sedate, more Guillaume’s speed. ‘Here you go.’
As he settles in to read, I pretend to tidy, all the while surreptitiously watching the expression on his face changing from gruff to soft.
Love is a universal language. My lonely old friend just needs a little practice learning the fundamentals again. When he’s finished, Guillaume grumbles about lost time and irate clients as he takes his leave. I can only shake my head as I watch him go, with a little more enthusiasm than when he arrived. The love letters touched him. You’d figure a man who procures these things would be well versed in such matters, but he insists he only ever gives them a cursory glance to check they’re in good condition and aren’t shopping lists before he agrees to purchase them.
