Outside, night fell, and stars flashed in the inky sky as Hilary congratulated herself on the way she’d handled the devastating end of her marriage. Now, all she had to do was figure out where to hide the body.
Hide the body?
I close the laptop. Tomorrow is another day.
5
3 NOVEMBER
The next morning, I’m rifling through the kitchen, wishing I’d thought to bring basic supplies like a French press and ground coffee. We stored our belongings at Manon’smaman’s house without putting much thought into what we’d need here.
I search the cupboards but don’t find anything resembling a French press or even a kettle. Maybe they’re upstairs in the kettle graveyard, languishing under layers of dust.
‘Bonjour?’ A red-headed woman in her mid-twenties wanders in with a wave. ‘I’m Juliette, one of the backpackers from Avignon. The others have already left for breakfast, but I heard you in here and wanted to say good morning and thanks for letting us stay.’
‘Bonjour!I’m Anais. It’s lovely to meet you in person. I’m sorry, I don’t have any coffee to offer you. I’ll get some today.’
She waves me away as if it doesn’t matter. ‘Around the corner is Café Madame where we have café et croissant for only five euros.’ An espresso coffee and buttery croissant sounds good right about now. ‘Would you like to join us for petit déjeuner? We can walk there in only a few minutes.’
‘Breakfast would be great. I’ll grab my scarf.’
I hurry back to my suite and don a jacket and woollen scarf. We meet in the lobby a few minutes later and head out into the dark of the dawn. There’s something magical about Paris so early in the morning, where there are very few souls in sight. The air is foggy and the streets deserted as if even the city itself is sleeping.
‘What do you all do for work?’ I ask as I push my hands deeper into my coat pockets and blink against light drizzle.
She tucks an errant strand of red hair behind her ear. ‘We do walking tours for tourists. It’s slowing down now as the cold weather creeps in so we’re just hoping there’ll still be enough tourists who are willing to brave the elements so we keep some money coming in. Some days we do really well, other days we do tours but don’t get tipped at all.’
‘Ah, I see. The weather would really factor into your work.’ Walking tours are plentiful in Paris, and a great way to learn the history of the place for a minor cost. Most tours offer a ‘pay what you wish’ tip system, so their income can fluctuate wildly, especially if people take advantage of that. ‘You must know a lot about Paris.’
She grins. ‘I do now. There was a lot of cramming in the beginning and, while I’ve learned a thousand facts about the city, there’s always more to learn. At first, I was terrified, having to speak to the groups like I’m an authority on such things, but now I really enjoy it. We aim to make it fun and throw in unique and silly titbits as well as the history about each sight.’
I smile at Juliette. There’s a real warmth to her and I love that she’s made her tours memorable for visitors. ‘I bet it’s fun. So where to next?’
She shakes her head. ‘We’re going to stay for Christmas and then we’ll move on to the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany and beyond. It’ll depend on where we can find work.’
‘What an adventure.’
‘It will be. Although we were supposed to leave Paris a couple of months ago.’ She laughs. ‘None of us factored in that we’d fall in love with the first city we stopped at, in our own country. We made a pact we’d stay until we’d explored every part of Paris. Will we have the same issue everywhere we go? I didn’t know you could fall in love with a place. It can capture your heart just like a person.’
‘Oui, Paris is like that.’ I should know. After I finished university in Bristol around sixteen years ago, I came to visit Manon for a holiday and never left. I can’t see myself ever returning to Britain long term. ‘So which suite are you staying in?’ I can’t help but wonder if Juliette is the tidier of two couples, or if she lives more like Manon, where chaos reigns supreme.
‘My boyfriend Timothee and I are in suite eleven. And Zac and Kiki are in twelve.’ As suspected, Juliette is in the tidier suite.
‘I hope it’s OK – we had a quick peek in to see what work needed to be done.’
‘For sure. We’re grateful to be able to stay in such a central location.’
‘Merci.’
We arrive at Café Madame and introductions are made with Juliette’s fellow backpackers. There’s her boyfriend Timothee and their friends, the other couple Zac and Kiki. They’re a jovial bunch and energetic despite the early morning. Kiki talks a mile a minute and has a machine-gun laugh that is contagious. She’s animated and speaks fast compared to a quieter and more softly spoken Juliette. The strong friendship is evident in the way they complement each other and offer a squeeze of an arm or a tap on the hand when slinging words back and forth.
‘Have you got a tour lined up early?’ I ask after placing my order for café et croissant. The sun is slowly rising but it won’t be light for another hour or so.
‘Oui, the first one is at eight thirty. We run the tours twice a day and also offer private guided outings for tourists who want the privilege of an exclusive one-to-one experience.’
Kiki says, ‘And what about you, Anais? Are you planning to renovate the hotel yourself? I can see you wielding a hammer for some reason, as if you’ve got a lot of pent-up emotions that need to be expressed.’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘Uh – well, how do you…?’ Am I sitting Nutcracker stiff? Shoulders up around my ears? Wearing that restingkillface I can’t seem to dislodge, no matter how much I massage my cheeks?
