Page 59 of Never Too Late
Sash sighed. ‘Well, if it can’t be you, I hope it’s someone that deserves him.’
‘And she would, if it goes that far. Don’t forget he lives in India and she lives in Paris. Not the easiest commute. We’ll see.’
‘I wonder how his meeting is going?’
‘I’m sure he’ll update us later.’ I tied the laces on my platform Converse trainers and grabbed a coat. Sash had bought the shoes for me for Christmas, insisting they were the comfiest shoes I’d ever wear and I’d certainly need them with all the miles we’d be doing exploring Paris. I’d been a little unsure as to whether they were a bit ‘trendy’ for me but Sash had told me not to be so daft and insisted I’d try them on. She hadn’t been wrong about the comfort.
We took the train to Montmartre and followed Google Maps on Sash’s phone, wandering among the Bohemian history of the quarter until we arrived at a pink-fronted restaurant with Kelly-green shutters. Groups of tourists were standing and taking photos and, of course, selfies in front of it. We shuffled around them to the door and made our way in. Le Maison Rose was brimming even in the off season but we managed to snag a table and settled ourselves in. Many of the others there were clearly also tourists – the show had done wonders for their business by the looks – so at least I didn’t feel too out of place in my caterpillar coat which, despite looking uglier each time I put it on, had at least kept me warm as we’d walked from the Metro station.
Sash peeped over the top of her menu. ‘Do you think the chef is as gorgeous as Gabriel? I mean, I know this one isn’t “his” restaurant but still?’
‘Gabriel?’ I repeated vaguely as I perused the menu and concentrated on not drooling. It was a short menu which I always took as a good sign and although Sash and her followers were more interested in its TV connection, it was its history and its farm-to-table ethos that appealed to me.
‘Mum!’
‘Hmm?’ My head snapped up.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes. Gabriel.’There. Covered that well.
‘And who is Gabriel?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t realise there would be a test,’ I shot back teasingly.
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Mum, I thought you were going to watch the series before we came.’
‘The series? Oh! Yes. Well. I was but I will.’
‘It’s a bit late now we’re here, isn’t it?’ She looked down at her own menu.
‘Not at all. This way, I get to recognise it when I do see it on the telly.’
She flicked at her thumb. ‘I suppose.’
‘So who is Gabriel?’
‘He’s the chef at her local restaurant. And he’s gorgeous.’
‘Does she end up with him?’
‘I’m not telling you that! You have to watch it.’
‘Fair enough. And I will do, Sash. I promise.’ I made a mental note to start tonight. ‘Do you know what you’re having yet?’
For once, due to the restaurant’s no-filming policy, she’d been able to take in the place and the menu far sooner than was usual.
‘The fresh vegetable tart, I think,’ she replied.
The same puff pastry tart had caught my eye too.
‘Tarts for two then!’ I chuckled.
‘Mum,’ she whispered, but I saw the amusement in her eyes. ‘Will you order?’ Sash asked.
‘Why don’t you do it, love? I know you’ve been practising.’
She scrunched her nose. ‘I’ve sort of fallen behind a bit with it.’
