Page 40 of Never Too Late
‘Bonsoir. I have a table reserved in the name of Shukla?’ Ashok’s French was fluent and smooth with a perfect accent. Of course it was.
The receptionist nodded and directed us to the restaurant, the other side of the lobby.
‘I didn’t know you spoke French,’ I whispered.
‘I took some intense lessons when I began considering a purchase here,’ he spoke quietly back. ‘I wanted to make sure I understood any potential side conversations that might happen during the negotiations.’
‘Good to be prepared. Although learning a whole new language is quite the preparation.’
‘True. But you’ve met me, right?’
‘Quite.’
‘Bonsoir, madame et monsieur.’
‘Bonsoir,’ I replied, as did Ashok. Like the receptionist, the greeter here was doing a great job of pretending I didn’t have two swollen eyes that were turning a different shade with every hour that passed.
We were shown to our table and seated, and Ashok ordered one bottle of still water and one of their most expensive champagne. The waiter nodded once and left.
‘Is that another test?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m just celebrating dinner with a friend.’
‘Then the second most expensive probably would have sufficed.’
Ashok laughed and then asked how it felt to be back in Paris.
‘Honestly?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m wondering if I made a mistake.’
‘Why? It’s not as you remember?’
‘It’s not that. I mean, of course things have changed but Paris is still as beautiful as it ever was. But I’ve changed.’
‘I don’t think any of us are the same people we were thirty years ago. It’d probably be a bit weird if we were,’ Ashok offered.
I made to reply as the waiter appeared with the champagne, an ice bucket in a stand, and two stunning cut-crystal glasses that made the reflected light from another large chandelier above dance. He showed Ashok the bottle, and he nodded before picking up his phone and tapping away briefly as the waiter made an understated display of opening it. He then poured a small amount into the glass before Ashok and stood back, awaiting Ashok’s decision. My friend tasted the champagne, gave the waiter a nod and we paused our conversation until we had each been poured half a glass and the bottle been placed it in the ice bucket. Once this was done, the waiter then gave a tiny bow and moved away.
‘So what weren’t you happy about? Or is it that you’re particularly impressed by something?’ I tilted my head towards his phone.
‘Oh. Was it that obvious?’ Ashok looked momentarily unsure, an expression that looked unusual on his features.
‘Not to anyone else,’ I reassured him. ‘But I know you barely look at your phone when you’re in company. And,’ I leant closer to him, ‘I also know this is an undercover operation.’
‘Busted!’
His laugh was warm and I felt the stress of earlier melting away, even, for a moment, forgetting about the state of my face. How wonderful it was to have friends who you could absolutely be yourself with, without judgement. And if you could make them laugh, and they you, it really didn’t get much better than that.
‘As for my secret scribblings, I noted that he didn’t show you the wine, just me. You should have been included as neither of us had known what he would bring.’
Ashok picked up his glass and I did the same, waiting for the toast.
‘To Paris.’
‘To Paris,’ I echoed and touched my glass carefully against his, the soft ring of the glass perfectly clear.
