Page 15 of Never Too Late
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Ashok insisted on driving us to the airport. During the two weeks that we had stayed at his beautiful hotel, he had taken all the time he could to visit and take Sash and me, and whomever of her new friends wanted to come, to see places that the average tourist, including us, would have missed.
It was wonderful to see this incredible country through the eyes of someone who knew, and loved, it so well. Last night, Ashok and I had dined on a rooftop terrace restaurant, surrounded by the heady scent of jasmine and spices, and the evening had already been stored carefully and forever in the compartment of my brain labelledTreasured Memories.
‘Sounds so romantic!’ Sash had grinned when I’d got back and met her down by the poolside bar where she was spending time with her new friends before we left early in the morning.
‘It was. But it wasn’t,’ I’d answered, kissed her good night and hugged the others before heading back to the room, setting two alarms plus a reception phone call before collapsing into the downy softness of possibly the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in. It was one of many reasons I was sorry to be leaving in the morning.
* * *
‘Thanks for everything,’ Sasha said as she hugged Ashok tight.
‘You’re most welcome.’ He returned the hug and something inside me was sad that he’d never become a father. It was easy to see he’d have been a fantastic one.
‘I’ll go and see which desk it is, Mum,’ she said, grabbing the handle of her case and striding off into the cool air of the airport.
‘Tactful.’
‘Always,’ I replied. ‘Actually, no, not always but that’s another story.’
‘One I hope I get to hear.’ He took my hand. ‘These last two weeks have been some of my happiest. Spending time with you, and Sasha and the others. It’s been fun.’ He looked away for a moment. ‘Sometimes, as adults, we forget about the simple pleasure of just having fun, don’t we?’
‘Easily done,’ I replied. ‘There’s always something more important than “fun” on the to-do list, it seems.’
‘And yet what could be more important in life than remembering to enjoy it?’
‘You’re quite the sage when you want to be, aren’t you?’
He smiled. ‘With that in mind…’
‘Uh oh. Am I going to like this?’
‘I don’t know. But I think you should consider it anyway.’
‘OK…’
‘I think you should go back to Paris.’
I half-turned away, unintentionally dropping his hand in the process. ‘I couldn’t. Not now.’
Ashok gently turned me back towards him. ‘You could. And you should. I know you had your heart broken there but you also fell in love.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You fell in love with Paris long before you fell in love with anything, or anyone else. And Paris didn’t break your heart.’
‘It was such a long time ago, Ashok.’
‘And yet, when you told me about it that night, it was clear that you still love it, even after all that time.’
‘There’s a difference between nostalgia and love.’
‘There is. Nostalgia doesn’t light up a person like love does. Like you lit up when you told me about Paris.’
I dropped my head, studying the vibrant coral varnish on my toenails that the salon had painted the day before.
‘Just think about it,’ he said, bending his knees to make eye contact with my lowered gaze.
