Page 31 of Never Too Late
‘Is it far now?’ Sash asked.
I shook my head without checking the map. Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d gone over the route several times on Google Maps and the buildings around us now were familiar to me.
‘Just on the right down here,’ I said, steering us both down a narrow side street. ‘It should be just…’ I checked the numbers. ‘Here.’
We both looked up at the apartment building. Cream with black shutters and wrought-iron balconies, finished off with an elegant set of oak double doors. I punched in the code I’d been sent into the keypad of the small wall safe and the door pinged open. I retrieved our keys and placed one in the lock. With a turn and a heft of the door, we were in.
‘Wow!’ Sash trailed her case to the bottom of the stairwell and looked up. A wrought-iron staircase spiralled majestically up the centre of the building accompanying the polished stone steps, all of which dipped slightly in the middle from centuries of use.
‘Do you like it?’ I asked as I headed over to the row of post boxes and, with the second key from the safe, opened the one belonging to our apartment. Inside lay one more key. The key to the apartment itself. I took it out, locked up the box and joined Sasha at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Ready?’
‘Do you want to take the lift?’
‘There is no lift.’
Her perfectly laminated brows rose. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Oh.’ She looked at our cases. ‘OK.’ And we began the climb to the fourth floor.
‘You OK, Mum?’ Sash said as we finally reached the door to the apartment, her slightly ahead of me.
I held up a finger as I took a few moments to find some breath to shove into my lungs so I didn’t actually die before completing one day of my second Paris adventure. In the end, I put a thumb up. Far less effort than finding extra air, or energy, to speak. I was also in a little bit of shock-slash-denial as I remembered how I’d lived in a similar, although far less elegant, version of this building all those years ago and would jog up and down the stairs every day like it was nothing. Oh, God. I was so unfit.
I handed the key to Sash but she pushed it back towards me.
‘No, Mum. You should do it.’
‘I don’t think it matters, darling,’ I said, my breathing finally getting back to normal.
‘It does, Mum. This is your adventure. A new chapter in your life. And this is where it’s all going to start.’
I pushed the key into the lock, opened the door and walked in, wheeling my suitcase beside me. Behind me, I heard Sash wheel hers in too and close the door.
From somewhere deep within me, laughter bubbled up and burst out along with a wash of unexpected tears. I put my hand to my face.
‘Mum?’ Sash asked. As I turned, I saw her perfectly made-up face – how she always looked like this even at the ungodly hour we’d got up this morning is beyond me. Even in my youth, I didn’t have the energy for that.
‘What am I doing, Sash?’
‘Come on. Let’s make a cup of tea and sit down. You’re just over-tired.’ She took my hands. ‘Mum. This is going to be great! Loads of people have said how cool it is that you’re doing this and how they’d love to do something similar but don’t feel brave enough, or wish they had done when they had the opportunity. I have the coolest mum!’ She shrugged a slim shoulder. ‘I mean, I already knew that but still.’ Her smile was wide but I knew my daughter and could also see the hesitation behind it. The last thing I wanted to do was freak my daughter out within an hour of arriving in Paris.
‘You’re right. I’m just tired.’
‘It’s OK. It’s a lot. I’m kind of “arggghhhh” about it too if I’m honest.’ She put her hands to her face to accompany the sound. ‘But it’s also amazing. It’s going tobeamazing. I just know it.’
I mentally hoiked up my big-girl pants – the hold-it-all-in kind, obviously – I was in Paris, after all.
‘You’re right. Itisgoing to be amazing!’ And right then, right there, I was damned if it wasn’t going to be. I knew I was privileged to be able to come back to a place I had once loved to make new memories, memories with the daughter I might never have had if things had been different all those years ago. It was a case of sliding doors, but the door I thought I’d go through had slammed shut in my face. At the time, I’d thought it was the worst thing that could ever have happened. But I’d made a life. Admittedly, it hadn’t been a terribly exciting life but it was a comfortable one and there was something to be said for that. And the best thing about it was here with me now. It was time, as she had said, to start a new chapter.
‘Let’s put the kettle on and explore.’
I’d had some email correspondence with the owner of the property who it turned out was married to a Brit. Clearly knowing our need for a cuppa, she had kindly offered to make sure there was a small amount of fresh milk in the fridge for our arrival. I took off my coat, laid it over the chair and walked to the kitchen part of the open-plan living area. Filling the kettle, I switched it on and after a bit of rummaging found two china mugs and set them next to the kettle.
‘Here you go.’ Sash appeared next to me with our emergency stash of teabags we’d packed in a small tin. There was a large box in my suitcase. Obviously.
