From Paris With Love (31 page)

Ooh…I held my breath. Would she reveal anything about her National Front dad?

She laughed nervously. ‘Um, my my father would probably approve of a thoroughbred Frenchman – or woman – being crowned.’

‘Conservative, is he?’ said Joe casually.

Monique paused for a moment. ‘Something like that. The Masson family does have a tradition of strong patriotic feelings. My grandfather fought in the First World War. He gained a reputation for rallying the depressed troops with his rhetoric. He was still spinning speeches when he got killed in the trenches, defending our country. I guess that heavily influenced my father’s world view.’ She shrugged. ‘I am very proud of my grandpapa. He was brave and had principles.’

‘So, Joe, who are you training at the moment, honey? Any new moves you can show me?’ said Cindy, clearly wanting his attention diverted back to her.

Without looking at Cindy, Joe aimed his answer at the French actress. ‘I’m training one of the footballers playing in this charity match, at the weekend – funnily enough, the young royal couple will be there to watch.’

‘Do you like football, Monique?’ I asked. She’d been mega polite to me all evening – bordering on friendly at times.

Her cheeks flushed. ‘
Non
.’

‘So you won’t be going to that match on Saturday?’ said Joe and smiled.

Her cheeks burned redder, hiding her smattering of freckles for a moment. ‘Absolutely not!’ she said and gave another nervous laugh. ‘Me? At a football stadium? I cannot think of anything worse.’

‘So, tell me about this footballer, Joe,’ said Cindy, voice edged with desperation now. Urgh, she must have been wondering why she was practically invisible to Mr Stupid Cupid Bloggs. It didn’t help when his phone bleeped (he’d timed that to happen, with a pre-set alarm) Joe pretended to read a message and then got to his feet.

‘Apologies, folks. Personal training pays well, but it means you’re at the beck and call of clients. I’ve just received a message about an injured hamstring. I’ll try and get back later. Thanks for dinner, Age–, I mean Gemma.’

He went into the bedroom where I’d put everyone’s coats, no doubt hoping to find Monique’s keys. A few minutes later he reappeared and left the flat.

To my amazement, the conversation flowed during dessert and coffee – although I shouldn’t have been surprised. Chatty Cindy was the perfect antidote to any awkwardness. In fact, seeing Monique joke with Edward and my American friend, I could almost understand why people liked her. She was a good listener. Plus Monique opened up about her family, when Cindy said how much she missed hers. Apparently the actress was never close to her dad, growing up. She didn’t let on who he was, but talked of how his work always took a priority; of how he kept trying to persuade her to study politics, economics and social science, when all she wanted to do was dance. What’s more, I held my own, talking about my new cookery skills and – when quizzed by Cindy – about just how I hard I’d worked last year, to fool everyone that I was really Abbey.

‘That must have taken real balls, Gemma, you should have been a secret agent,’ said Cindy.

Oh, the irony!

‘Mom wanted me to be a hairdresser,’ Cindy continued. ‘Don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for not learning how to colour and perm!’

Monique nodded. ‘
Oui
, even as an actress, I don’t think I could have pulled off two weeks pretending to be an aristocrat, “on stage” all the time.’ She smiled at Cindy. ‘
Ma mère
,
aussi
, wished I’d gone into hairdressing – or failing that, been a dress designer… Towards the end, she was so ill,
Maman
let me cut her hair…’ Monique gave a wry smile. ‘One of her last laughs was looking at her reflection in the mirror, afterwards.’

‘And how are you doing, Monique?’ said Cindy. ‘It seems like no time at all since last summer…’

Of course. Cindy would have known about the actress’ mum dying six months ago, as she’d been working at Chez Dubois for a year. The American reached over and, Daffy Duck bracelet jingling, patted Monique’s hand.

The actress shrugged. ‘I don’t know if one ever gets over losing a parent – let alone if they took their own life.’

‘That must have been hard,’ I said in a sympathetic voice, without thinking. Okay, I felt sorry for her, but she was plotting cold murder. I mustn’t lose sight of that.

‘
Oui
– particularly for my little sister.
Maman
… Things were bad for a long time. She never got over my father’s affair…’ Monique stared me in the eye. ‘But then you hardly knew your mother,
non
? Guess I am lucky to have memories…’

Blimey. Edward must have had quite deep conversations about me with her.

She got to her feet. ‘
Bon
, enough of such sadness. Cindy, shall we clear the dishes? I believe Edward wants to talk to Gemma.’

He smiled at me as the other two carried our plates over to the kitchen. ‘That was a delightful meal, Gem.’

‘Thanks. Guess you’ve learnt a lot about French home-cooking, living with Monique.’

‘And no doubt you have acquired an excellent knowledge of French pastries, living above The Golden Croissant.’

‘Are you suggesting I’ve put on weight?’

We grinned at each other and for one second it was as if our trip to Paris had never torn us apart.

‘Lady C will soon tell me if I’ve let myself go – I mean… Not that I’m probably going to see her much, away from Applebridge Hall.’

‘You are always welcome, Gemma,’ he said and ran a hand through his bedroom curls. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about… I’ve spoken to Father and we hope you will consider working at Applebridge Hall’s food academy… On a good wage, of course, with free board… What I mean is… We consider you one of the Croxley family, regardless of… the situation between you and me.’

A lump formed in my throat. Since moving out and picking up the last of his things, Edward had made no attempt to make up with me. Which of course, was a good thing – but he seemed to have accepted a future without me so easily. ‘That’s… I mean… Thank you. But I don’t think…’ I sat up straighter. ‘Is Monique returning with you on Sunday?’

‘She wants to.’

‘Then… No… I couldn’t watch you and her…’

‘Gemma, how many times? There is
nothing
going,’ Edward said, voice edged with irritation.

Wow. He’d raised his voice – most unbecoming behaviour for a Croxley. But he was either naïve or in denial.

‘Well, if not yet it’s only a matter of time…’ I said. ‘You wait until she charms the Earl with her knowledge of art… Rupert will fall at her feet… Lady C will clap her hands at Monique’s genteel appearance… Everyone in your social circle will consider the pair of you a perfect match.’

‘They thought that of you and me,’ he said, sharply.

My eyes tingled. ‘Probably not, deep down.’

‘In fact, Gemma, look, there really is something I ought to tell you that might finally change your mind about us …’

My eyes tingled. Oh my God. At last, evidence that Edward hadn’t moved on, quite as easily as I thought. The irony was, just lately I’d realised that in love-rival terms, Monique was less of a threat. We each had our own strengths. Yet as much as I still longed for Edward to hold me in his arms and declare undying love, I had to keep my head on. I couldn’t risk my heart being broken in the future. Nothing changed the fact that Edward and I had as much in common as Prince William and the pop star Will.i.am – as Auntie Jan and all her ex-boyfriends. ‘Don’t bother,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Nothing will make a difference. Please accept my decision. Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.’

Edward lifted his hands in the air. ‘We’re back in England within days and you won’t give us one last chance?’

I had to bite my lip at the clearest indication yet, that he still missed me – still reckoned we had a future. But I was no Auntie Jan. I had to be strong.

‘No. You can give me the most convincing examples of opposites attracting, but it won’t change my opinion,’ I said in the firmest voice possible. ‘I’ve come to realise – you and me, we are equals, but in too many different ways. We have passion for different interests and a determination to achieve different things…’ I swallowed. ‘
Please
. Let it lie, Edward. We’ve got the farewell party Pierre is throwing for us Sunday afternoon. And then I’ll… I’ll let you know of my plans – arrange to pick up my stuff from Applebridge…’

Edward’s mouth went into a hard line and he stood up, just as someone rapped on the door. Monique opened the door to Joe. As he came in, Edward got up and fetched his and Monique’s coats.

‘Thank you for a pleasant evening,’ he said tightly to no one in particular and my stomach squeezed. Hastily, he headed into the corridor. Monique kissed Cindy, half-smiled at me and closed the front door behind them. Joe looked at me. He was carrying a black plastic bag.

‘How was the hamstring?’ drawled Cindy tentatively.

‘What? Oh, yep, fine now,’ said Joe abruptly. Inwardly I groaned. He really needed training in how to speak to the ladeez!

A sigh escaped Cindy’s lips as her phone rang and she went over to the balcony to answer it.

‘So?’ I whispered, ignoring the lump in my throat that ached at Edward’s brusque departure. ‘Did you get into the flat?’

Joe nodded. ‘Didn’t find Monique’s keys in her coat, but her front door was easy to pick.’

‘And?’ I glanced pointedly at the bag.

But before he could reply, Cindy rushed over, eyes watering. She hurtled into the bedroom and grabbed her coat.

‘Gotta go,’ she said, coming back into the living area. ‘That was my neighbour – my apartment’s been burgled. Apparently…’ A sob escaped her lips. ‘They smashed up the joint – photos from home… Even my goldfish tank is cracked and leaking.’

She headed for the door but within seconds Joe had passed the plastic bag to me and stood in front of the chef. He put his hands on her shoulders.

‘I’ll drive you,’ he said.

‘No… It’s okay… I don’t want to be a nuisance. You’re busy tonight with stuff – I can tell that. Don’t need anyone to look after me – never have, never will.’

Joe stepped back, looking kind of surprised that she hadn’t swooned at his heroic tone. Clearly he was used to saving damsels in distress. ‘Yeah, I’ve been distracted. Sorry Cindy. You deserve better than that.’

She lifted her head and sniffed. ‘It’s okay, I mean…Honestly. It’s just the shock. No cowardly thief’s gonna get the better of me. I’m an independent woman. Fine on my own.’ She forced a smile. ‘Don’t need no knight in shining armour, but thanks anyway. The neighbours called the police. Hopefully there are fingerprints and… With any luck, Bubbles is managing in a couple of inches of water.’

Aw bless. How typical of Cindy. Money or her passport could have been stolen but she was most worried about photos of family and a fish.

Face etched with concern, Joe took out his car keys. ‘No arguments, Cindy. Let’s get going. I’ve got friends who can secure your place. If you’d feel better though…You can spend the night at mine. Everyone needs help now and again.’

Cindy’s face brightened. ‘Really? I mean, not that I’m scared but…’

‘I also know a guy who owns a pet shop – I’ll get a new tank sent over.’ Joe delved into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly pressed handkerchief, which he passed to her.

‘You have lots of connections,’ said Cindy, voice all thick with emotion as she dabbed her eyes.

If only she knew. In fact, how could she possibly stay over at a flat belonging to MI6? But then Joe’s place was probably minimalist, like his black suits.

*Claps hands* This was great! Proof that Joe liked my fab friend.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, but Cindy shook it off and glared.

‘I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you,’ she said. ‘And don’t think you can take advantage of me, in this vulnerable state – not unless I want you to.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ said Joe and chuckled. Cindy giggled back. They stared at each other for a moment.

‘I’ll be in touch. Look after that bag,’ he said to me, as Cindy texted her neighbour.

We exchanged looks and I nodded. Curiosity pricked, I hurried into the bedroom to open it, as soon as they were gone.

The plastic rustled as I slipped my hand into the bag. My mouth went dry as my fingers curled around smooth, cold metal. Oh my God. Already knowing what it was, I pulled the object out of the bag and held it in the air. My heart pounded as I stared at the shiny, lethal-looking gun.

Chapter 28

According to Joe, Monique’s gun was a CZ 75 and well capable of causing great harm. However, he insisted there was no point in informing the bosses at MI6, as they would simply reply that ownership of a weapon didn’t imply any intention to murder. Especially as Monique enjoyed sports such as fencing. A bigger, official investigation would first use MI6 manpower to find out if she belonged to a local gun club, as another hobby.

I sighed as my shift ended and headed out of the kitchen, towards the bar, to grab a coffee. Joe was there, out of uniform, chatting with Cindy. He’d come in yesterday as well, the day after the burglary, just to check she was okay. How great to see him acting more human – and fab to see Cindy letting a man into her life.

She got up to fetch her handbag from the staff room. Joe was driving her to an out of town furniture warehouse as the burglars had trashed her sofa.

‘Nice to see you taking a break,’ I said to Joe, eyes twinkling.

‘Not for long. I still have a lot of preparation to do for Saturday. It will be my job to follow the royal couple closely, alongside the royal protection officers. Good thing Pierre has given you and Edward Saturday off, as a leaving present – we haven’t got to think of a cover story, for you missing your last day of work.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing more we can do about Monique except keep a close eye on her, on the day.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s ridiculous, now that we know she had a gun.’

Joe ignored my comment. ‘I’ve managed to get you and Blade security passes and will pick you both up from your flat at nine o’clock, Saturday morning, to make sure you get inside the stadium without any problem. I’ve wangled two seats for you right by the ticket you found in that girl’s handbag – which is the seating area just below the royal box.’