Page 60 of Never Too Late
‘OK.’ I didn’t mind. I’d been hoping that Sash would learn the language but she was an adult and I was way beyond telling her what to do. From experience, I found that it was only when you wanted to learn that you actually did.
The tarts were a good choice. Eminently Instagrammable, which Sash obviously took advantage of, and as delicious to eat as they were to look at. When asked if we’d like to order anything to go with our après lunch coffees, Sash chose a cheesecake which, when I tried a piece, literally melted in the mouth. I’d plumped for a slice of carrot cake which hit just the right balance of fruit, spices and icing, not to mention being perfectly moist.
‘This used to be a painter’s studio, apparently,’ I said as I sipped a rich, dark cup of Illy coffee.
‘Did it?’
‘Yep. Pals with Picasso amongst others.’
‘Wow. Cool.’ Her enthusiasm was less than mine had been when we’d sat over coffees thirty years ago, having deep discussions about fashion and art and everything else that came to mind.
To Sasha and many others, it having featured in one of the biggest series on television was a far bigger draw, which was good too. Either way, it was great to get back to exploring and I’d loved getting out into the city this afternoon. Plenty of water, strong coffee and good, healthy food had chased away the last remnants of the hangover and I leant back in my chair, soaking it all in, my mind drifting back into the past.
Tomas and I had passed many an hour wandering this artistic quarter and more than once, sitting on the steps of the nearby Sacré-Cœur, had watched the sun rise over Paris. I thought back to his declaration about no longer being a romantic and wondered if it was true.
‘You’re miles away, Mum.’
‘Oh, sorry. Just enjoying the atmosphere.’Mostly. ‘So where did you want to go next?’
‘Do you know this area?’
‘I used to.’
‘Will you show me?’
Happiness flooded through my veins. ‘I’d love to.’
* * *
We’d just stepped off the Metro close to home when my phone rang. I grabbed it out of my bag, not checking the screen.
‘Allo?’ I answered, pressing my phone against my ear as a three-wheeler delivery van rattled past.
‘Kitty?’ Gabby’s voice floated through the ether. ‘Ooh, you sound so French! I love it!’ Her laughter made me smile as it always had.
‘I’m trying to get back in the habit.’
‘Bon. Now, you’re coming to the opening night next week, aren’t you?’
‘Am I?’
‘But of course! Tomas invited you?’
‘Then Tomas forgot to tell me.’
‘Ugh! My brother is such an imbecile at times.’ Somehow, her warmth softened the insult. It was clear from the previous evening, not to mention the fact that she was managing his business, that the two were still close. I was glad of it. I hated to think that relationship might too have been fractured in the fallout of ours. ‘Of course you are invited. And darling Sasha,bien sur! I cannot wait to meet her!’
I glanced over at Sash, a wide smile on my face. She gave a questioning frown in response.
‘Hang on.’ I held the phone to the side so that Gabby could still hear. ‘Gabby would like to know if we’d like to attend Tomas’s opening night at the gallery.’
‘Tell her she can have all the exclusive content she wants!’ my friend practically bellowed into the phone and we both laughed at the enthusiasm bursting through the airwaves.
‘Seriously?’ Sash asked quietly.
I gave a shrug. ‘Want to come?’
‘Definitely!’
