Page 44 of The Promise of Tomorrow
They carried on walking and came to a bench. She tugged his sleeve and they sat down. ‘I mean it. It is okay… Somehow, finally saying out loud, to another person, what happened all those years ago has made me… less afraid. So you can mention my birthday.’ Elena couldn’t help leaning forwards and kissing him on the cheek. A swift recovery followed and she pushed his shoulder. ‘Thanks matey, for being there for me.’
A glint in his eyes died with her words. He must have come up with another joke and decided against it.
‘In that case, I’ve got a proposition for you,’ he said. ‘Neither of us can predict what is going to happen on your birthday. Therefore, why don’t we make plans to celebrate it, regardless? Throw a party at your house? Invite Tahoor, your parents, Gary and Diego and…’
‘Are you mad? What if something bad were to happen? I don’t want to traumatise the people I care about most.’
Rory kicked a small stone with the heel of his cowboy boot. ‘What I admire most about you, Elena, is that you never give up. At work you sink your teeth into a pitch and won’t let go until you’ve got your point across. The Elena I know isn’t just going to sit and wait for her birthday, kowtowing to the prophecy that’s lurked in her life for so long. We’ve got just under two weeks to find answers – and to plan you the best party ever. To hell with thewhat ifs, to hell with thea deal is a deal. The worst thing that can happen is that you give up. Your mum wouldn’t want that. Nor would the ten-year-old girl who did everything she could to save her. Despite fearing what might lay ahead, that girl made the most of every day, every year, every opportunity, and got you to this point. You owe it to her to fight this, Elena. You and I, we’re going to find that fortune teller and get some answers.’
Elena sat up rigid, straight, solid, as if her bones were made of iron instead of calcium.
She lifted her chin. He was right.
‘Okay. You’re on,’ she beamed. ‘Why don’t we get something to eat and plan the food for my birthday meal? I’ll draw up a list of guests. Perhaps we’ll play party games.’ Weirdly, she was more excited for this potentially last birthday than any from previous years, those having always felt like a countdown. ‘We also need to discuss Brandy and Snap. That bigger tank is arriving this week. Could you message Julian and ask about the best accessories and…’
Suddenly the world seemed full of possibilities.
The cemetery was so peaceful, with birdsong providing the soundtrack to the excited noise of tourists and cameras clicking. In Père Lachaise, death was something to be celebrated, in terms of the lives of people buried there. She stared at a small opal ring on her middle finger. It had belonged to her gran. Elena also needed to write a plan for how she wanted to be buried. She’d want a non-religious funeral and someone to read a wonderfulpoem she’d once read about the dead person being a ship disappearing on a horizon, with mourners waving goodbye, whilst people, out of sight, far away, on the other side, excitedly waved hello. As for the music… ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ by Eva Cassidy.The Wonderful Wizard of Ozhad been a favourite read as a child. Dad used to do a brilliant impression of the scarecrow.
A sense of calm filled her. A sense of taking control. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Elena, what’s wrong?’ asked Rory, face crumpled with concern.
‘Nothing, they’re happy tears. It’s so good to plan as if I’m mistress of my own destiny – for the very first time.’ She wiped her eyes. They both leaned close. Closer still. Ba boom, ba boom, her heart thumped and she became hyper-focused on his lips. Hers parted slightly as their eyes met and?—
‘Monsieur?’
Elena pulled away. They both looked up at a sylphlike young woman with bright red lipstick. Her raven hair was styled in a chic pixie cut and she wore a black trench coat, with a Chanel scarf and a patent crossbody bag. She smelt of expensive perfume and dropped her cigarette, stubbing it out with her heel.
‘Bonjour monsieur,’ the woman said, ignoring Elena. ‘Je m’appelle?—’
‘Um…désolé… sorry… but I amAnglais,’ he said and stood up.
‘English?’ She looked him up and down. ‘I am surprised. You are so stylish. But of course. That is why you have a… different vibe about you. Love your look. Fantastic jacket. Great cheekbones.’
‘Pardon?’ He looked puzzled.
‘But I am being rude.’ She smiled and held out her hand. ‘Nicole Moreau. You live here?’
‘No. Gets a bit busy at nights – you know, all those wandering souls. Although Jim Morrison is wild to hang out with.’
She hesitated and then laughter pealed across the cemetery. The woman took him by the elbow and guided him a couple of metres away and talked in an animated fashion. Rory shot Elena a look and then became more animated too. He touched this Nicole’s arm, cackling really loudly at something she said. It didn’t sound natural. Yet they’d really seemed to hit it off. And why wouldn’t they? Both were gorgeous. Both had their whole lives stretching ahead of them. Thank goodness that woman had come along and saved Elena from the embarrassment of having kissed Rory. He would have been horrified. Perhaps she was an artist and wanted to paint him. The woman had been impressed with Rory’s appearance.
Understandable.
Elena busied herself, studying the map. When she looked up, they seemed to be saying goodbye. The woman pressed what appeared to be a business card into his hand and kissed him on both cheeks.
Rory walked over to Elena in a daze. She felt sick. Nicole must have really made an impression.
‘What was that about?’ she asked in as disinterested a voice as possible.
‘Don’t laugh.’
She forgot Nicole for one moment and immediately wanted to chuckle. Elena reached out her hand and pulled him onto the bench.
‘She’s a model scout. Says I’ve got a really fresh look. Her agency has a client with a big show coming up. A designer who puts a bold twist on classic pieces. She says I’d be perfect and such exposure would quickly lead to me getting other assignments.Nicole wants me to email her some photos. Says my frame, my face, both are perfect.’
Elena took the card. Dubois Agency. She googled it and checked out the contact email address. The logo matched. It looked like this woman was kosher.
