Page 55 of Never Too Late
‘Oh my God! It was soooo good. Sorry I didn’t message you. It just flew by so quickly!’
‘That’s OK. I took it as no news is good news.’
She threw a smile as she placed a large mug of the freshly brewed coffee down in front of me, excitement at her evening making her words tumble out quickly.
‘Thanks, love,’ I squeezed in as she did so.
‘They were both super nice and we talked over some great ideas for content. We’re going to do a chatty vlog with all of us too, to try and get some cross-over of followers. They’ve told me about some really cool places off the tourist trail to go to. I thought we might do some together, if you’re free?’
‘That sounds great, love. And, of course, I’d love to.’
‘I mean, I know you don’t want to be filmed or anything now, but I can shoot around that. It’d still be nice to go together and also to the places you’d told me about too.’
‘Of course.’ Her comment about not wanting to be filmed sent a spike of guilt through me – but I couldn’t do it. Not at the moment. Maybe not ever. Judgement for anyone on social media was harsh – I’d comforted Sasha plenty of times when some troll with more time than brain cells had posted something nasty on one of her videos. I was glad that she had now employed a friend from her marketing days to take over the moderation of her channel. It was one less worry for her – and us as her parents. ‘Absolutely, Sash. That sounds great.’
There was so much to say. To think about. To tell her. But not right now. Staying upright and focused on not spilling a scalding-hot coffee was the most I could concentrate on right now. Also, I needed to get some things straight in my own head first before speaking to my daughter. Like why could I not stop thinking about Tomas Bertholle as though I was still some lovesick teenager? Champagne had a lot to answer for. I was sure, once the fog cleared and the percussion section of the Paris Philharmonic stopped warming up inside my skull, things would be a lot clearer.
‘How was the hotel? Do you think Ashok is still happy with the investment?’
‘Yes, I’d say so. He made some observations about things he did and didn’t like while we were there but nothing major.’
‘So how come you got plastered?’ Sash was grinning at me.
‘I did not get plastered, thank you very much.’ The cacophony in my head would suggest otherwise but it was the principle of the matter. I was supposed to be the responsible adult here. Although from the look on my daughter’s face, I was fighting a losing battle.
‘If you say so.’
‘Actually we, or rather I, ran into some old friends at the hotel.’
‘Oh, wow, really? Like from back in the day?’
‘Yes, from back in the Dark Ages!’ I gave her a wink, which felt a little easier today. Hopefully, that meant the bruising was healing. I’d yet to get up the gumption to actually look in a mirror.
She rolled her eyes. ‘So, who was it? Someone you studied with?’
‘Yes. Gabrielle. Gabby, that I told you about.’
‘Oh, wow! Amazing! And you just ran into her?’
‘Literally. Coming out of the loos of all places.’
‘Did she recognise you?’
‘Yes. Much to my astonishment! Apparently, I haven’t changed a bit.’ I pulled a face.
‘Why do you say it like that?’
‘Well, we haven’t all aged as well as Gabby. She still looks fabulous.’
‘So do you!’ Sash replied loyally.
I pulled her towards me and kissed her. ‘Thank you, darling. That’s very kind.’
‘It’s not kind. It’s true.’
‘OK, then let’s say Gabby still looks unbelievably stylish.’
‘She’s French,’ Sash said with a shrug as if that said it all. Which it kind of did. ‘And you have your own style.’
