Page 87 of Never Too Late
‘One very slow step at a time.’
‘Whatever you want, Kitty.’ His lips brushed the back of my hand once more. With perfect timing, Benoit and Sasha returned from placing their order. Clearly, they were planning to stay.
The door opened and the pleasant breeze of earlier had now morphed into an unseasonal northerly one, blowing in a couple as they navigated an expensive pram through the doorway. The chill caught everyone in its path. And still it was warmer than the atmosphere that now surrounded our little group. Not the most auspicious start for a second chance at love.
But neither of us had fought for it last time. The truth was that the fault didn’t just lie at the feet of Tomas. I didn’t fight either. I walked out and left. Maybe things would have been different if I’d stayed. Maybe not. We would never know now. But disapproving family had split us once before. Now I knew that flame in my heart still smouldered, I wasn’t about to let that happen again. This time, we would take a chance. Make a chance. If it didn’t work out, it would be because of us, not someone else’s view or decision. I wasn’t about to alienate my daughter but she needed to realise that I wasn’t just her mum. I was my own person and this was my time.
We went our separate ways from the café, Benoit and Tomas heading in one direction, Sasha and I in the other. For the first few hundred yards, neither of us spoke.
‘Are you serious about him?’ There was a tension in her voice that no one other than her parents would have picked up on.
‘I’m not anything about him at the moment,’ I replied, careful to keep my own tone neutral.
‘It didn’t look like that to me.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
She stopped walking. I carried on.
‘Mum!’
‘I’m not having this conversation in the middle of the street, Sasha.’
I turned back and carried on walking in the direction of the apartment, catching the huff before Sasha strode on and walked, almost reluctantly, beside me.
‘You’ve changed since we came here, Mum.’
‘Good.’
From the corner of my eye, I saw her head snap towards me.
‘Does Dad know you’re seeing your old flame?’
Laughter bubbled up. So much for not talking about it. The bane of the young and their need for instantaneous everything.
‘Sash, me seeing or not seeing Tomas has absolutely nothing to do with your father, and whatever I choose, I don’t need anyone’s approval.’ I stopped and faced her. ‘You obviously have questions and I will answer those I wish to when we get home, but right now, I just want to walk through the streets of Paris and not think about anything too much.’
My daughter studied me as if the concept of not thinking about anything was completely anathema to her. Which it probably was. Nobody ever got bored now. They weren’t allowed to. They didn’t knowhowto and I felt that the world was a poorer place for it. Creativity often came from boredom. Ideas that didn’t usually have the space to bloom and grow flourished in those moments. But now any second of time that wasn’t specifically employed in the doing of something was filled with endless scrolling. Except here. I loved that people here still sat in cafés and people-watched in real life rather than through a screen.
‘Not even Tomas?’
‘No, I’m not even thinking about Tomas.’ Well, I hadn’t been, but now…
* * *
‘Am I allowed to ask anything yet?’ Sasha spoke after a full five minutes of being back home.
‘As I imagine you’re going to explode if you don’t, then I think you’d probably better.’
‘I’m not that interested.’ She flicked her eyebrows in a brief raise. ‘I’m just concerned.’
‘OK. What is it that you’re concerned about?’
‘You! That he’s going to make you fall in love with him all over again and break your heart all over again! This was supposed to be a time to fall back in love with Paris.’ She hesitated. ‘Not him.’
I patted the sofa and she took a seat next to me.
‘First of all, it’s lovely that you’re concerned but you really don’t need to be. That’s my job.’
