Page 89 of Never Too Late
‘I don’t necessarily. I’m not sure what I believe in. Apart from taking it one day at a time, being grateful for each new day and all the joys it brings and being grateful for you being here with me. Even if you do hate my new boyfriend’s guts.’ Tomas and I weren’t there yet but I couldn’t resist the tease.
Her own brows flicked up until she caught the twinkle in my eye. ‘Mum!’
‘Come on!’ I said, standing and pulling Sash up. ‘Let’s go and get an indulgent afternoon pastry at The Metropolitan so you can film it for your socials.’
‘Is that the only reason?’
‘Of course! I’m doing it to help, obviously.’
‘You’ll force it down?’
‘I will. For the greater good of YouTube.’
Her smile, hesitant until now, spread as we headed back out of the apartment and turned in the direction of our favourite local café.
34
Tomas leant against the counter, chatting away in relaxed but rapid French to the barman as I took a seat at a small table near the door. I watched from the corner of my eye. Bloody hell, he was gorgeous. I knew from Gabs that her brother was insistent upon regular exercise. They disagreed as to whether he took it to the extent of obsession. She on the side of yes, he the opposite, professing it was his way of managing stress.
Gabby, of course, wrinkled her nose at the idea of such a thing as organised exercise and maintained her trim figure by the magic of being a Frenchwoman. Also by managing to refuse returning to the bread plate too often. Like many Europeans, she walked a lot, rather than drove. In a city like Paris, and London for that matter, it was so easy and often far quicker to walk. Like others, at home, I’d fallen into the habit of driving everywhere and it was only now, without a car or the inclination to join the city traffic, that I realised how much I’d missed the walks. When Sasha was little, I’d take her for long walks in the old-fashioned Silver Cross pram that we’d bought for a song from the local ad paper because nobody wanted ones like that any more. But I’d loved it and we’d loved the price even more. The sprung carriage would bounce over bumps and Sasha would gurgle happily before eventually nodding off with the gentle motion. I smiled at the memory as my eyes drifted back to the handsome man now approaching me. What would life have brought if I’d taken the other set of sliding doors? Would I have similar precious memories? Would it have been worse or better? There was no way to answer that. It would have been different. And now it didn’t matter. We were here, today. And I wouldn’t swap that memory for anything.
He smiled and I felt like melting.
Good God, woman. Pull yourself together. You’re too old to melt!My sensible self brought me back to reality.
Tomas took the seat beside me, lifted my hand from the table and kissed the back of it. I melted a little bit more. Sensible Me opened my mouth. Joyful new Inner Me gave her a shove.
Bugger off and leave her alone! She’s happy!
Sensible Me gave a sniff and stalked off to a corner.
‘What was that for?’ I asked, smiling at him purely because I couldn’t help it.
He shrugged as the coffees arrived. ‘You.’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘You looked miles away earlier.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. But happy.’
‘I was thinking about how much more I walk now, and how the last time I used to do that was when I would take Sash out in her pram for long walks to escape the four walls.’
‘It made you feel better?’
‘It did,’ I agreed. ‘There’s so much information now about how getting out for a walk is good for you, but there was none of that back then. I wish there had been.’
‘But you figured it out for yourself. Like you always did.’
I took a sip of coffee. Hot, black and pleasantly bitter. The milky coffees I’d drifted into drinking over the years were once more a thing of the past. At home, it had seemed pretentious. Or at least I’d been led to believe.
‘You’re not in Paris now!’ my mother had only half-joked when I’d asked for one shortly after I got back. Hugh had made a similar comment. His had been meant as a joke but it had still hit a nerve. I didn’t want to be reminded that I wasn’t there any more. I didn’t want to be there either but my emotions were still raw and confused and it had seemed easier to avoid the triggers – even one as apparently insignificant as coffee. But now I was here and drinking the strong, black nectar. I also knew that, whatever happened, now I always would.
‘I suppose I did.’ I nodded my head towards the barman. ‘Old friend?’
‘I’ve been coming here for so long and Louis has been here all that time. I order my coffee, we moan about the world, discuss which part of us aches today, despair of the younger generation and then I take my coffee and we both get on with our day, feeling the better for it.’
