The Paris Secret (35 page)

She sat out the dances, steadfastly refusing to get up as she saw the locals arrange themselves into intricate positions. ‘Categorically not,’ she said bluntly every time Bruno tried
to get her to join him and Ines, all the while belligerently, drunkenly watching Xavier dance with the blonde. He was an accomplished, if not enthusiastic, dancer.

‘Come on, Flora, you’re going to love this one,’ Bruno said, breaking her reverie and snapping his fingers in front of her face.

‘No, I won’t,’ she said.

‘Too bad. I’m not taking “no” as an answer this time. This is the last of the folk dances.’

‘Bruno, I told you—’

‘I don’t care. Up.’

Oblivious to her protests this time, he pulled her up by the wrist and led her over to the dance floor where Ines was already standing, arranging people into correct places. Everyone had divided
into five pairs of lines that each spanned the length of the dance floor, men on one side of the pair, women on the other.

Flora watched as the MC – a portly man in a red braided jacket that looked more like a lion-tamer’s suit – demonstrated the dance with his wife and two others on stage. It
vaguely reminded her of some reeling lessons she’d once had as a teenager – linking opposite arms to turn, twirling on the spot . . . Bruno was right, not so hard.

She could see Xavier further up their line but there were at least fifteen people between them and she pointedly ignored him as the music started and the first couple in their ‘set’
began to dance.

Everyone started clapping in time, Flora too, as the first pairs in every eight couples moved towards each other and, linking arms, turned on the spot. She watched closely, concentrating hard
and finding the pattern as the woman moved down the line, repeating the turning sequence with each man before rejoining her partner in the middle. At the end of the set, when the couple had danced
with all of the seven other pairs, they then rejoined each other in the middle for a flamboyant twirling extravaganza (Flora was immediately worried for Sylvie – she’d mentioned
something about a dodgy hip at dinner) before moving down the line to the next set of dancers.

Even feeling as tipsy as she did, Flora was pretty sure she’d got it: twirl your partner, link arms with Man 2, twirl your partner, link arms with Man 3 and so on until Man 8, then back to
your partner who will twirl you like mad for sixteen bars. But . . . Flora felt her nerves spike as she thought it through more fully. Didn’t this mean those at the top of the line would end
up dancing with those at the bottom? I.e. everyone would dance with everyone?

Sociable it might be, but she could already see that it was Xavier’s turn to move down the set and he was eight couples closer than he had been four minutes ago. The blonde was his
partner, her hair snapping like a whip as he spun and flung her with careless ease, the girl laughing delightedly as he passed her to one man and himself turned another woman.

Desperately, she counted the number of couples between them. Five, six, seven . . . Had he seen her here? Did he know they were in the same set? She looked around, trying to find an escape route
off the dance floor but Ines had positioned them slap bang in the middle, with two dancing sets either side of them. She couldn’t walk between them without causing havoc – there was a
very high chance of getting hit by an outflung arm or leg if she tried that – and she certainly couldn’t run down the middle between the twirling pairs.

It was academic anyway. He was already here, turning Ines who was standing to her right and had clocked her dance partner too late. But Xavier wasn’t looking at Ines; his eyes were on
Flora – as he linked arms with Ines, as he twirled the blonde again – and then suddenly it was her turn, his arm pressed against hers for a whole revolution. She saw nothing but his
face, the lights and colours and festivity around them smeared into bright streaks that flashed past in the periphery.

It was a moment before she realized he was supposed to have let her go by now. He was supposed to be back dancing with his partner in the middle of the line – Flora could see the girl
standing alone, gesticulating wildly at the two of them – but Xavier was either oblivious or just didn’t care, his arm as clamped to hers as if they’d been shaped from a single
sheet of bronze: not riveted together, not bolted, but made as one. She felt her hair flying upwards, their bodies spinning in time, and when the music suddenly stopped and he twirled her into a
dip, her body twisted round his as she stared into those black eyes that betrayed none of his secrets, none of his thoughts. Just his desire.

Slowly, he brought her back to standing, the two of them breathless in the middle of the line as everyone clapped and called for another dance.

Flora couldn’t look away. What was he doing to her? He had been a bastard to her by intention, he had walked away from her, snubbed her – and then he danced with her like
that
?

The blonde came over, pulling Xavier by the shoulder, but he didn’t stir. He didn’t seem perturbed to be found staring down so brazenly at another woman. It was Ines who broke them
up, yanking Flora away by the wrist and walking her off the dance floor and straight over to the bar.

‘No!’ she said, wagging a finger in her face. ‘No, no, no!’

Flora inhaled, went to speak, to protest that
she
hadn’t done anything—

‘No!’

Bruno joined them, looking too scared to speak.

‘Bruno?’ Ines commanded, demanding backup.

Bruno looked at Flora, jerked his thumb towards his girlfriend. ‘What she says.’

Flora sighed and looked away, back towards the dance floor. Xavier was still standing there, staring after her, oblivious to the blonde standing with her hands on her hips and calling him out.
She realized why the music had stopped now; everyone was looking heavenwards, children (those still awake, anyway) sitting on their parents’ shoulders as the fireworks display began.

Ines hooked her finger under Flora’s chin and made her look back at her. ‘I said no! You know what he is.’

A sudden bang split the sky, making them all jump and look up. A brilliant shower of golden beads was cascading towards earth. Flora looked up at the stonework in the walls, now picked out by
the dramatic pink-and-blue spotlighting. She looked back at the dance floor again; she couldn’t help it. He was still watching her, observing how her body language changed, how her friends
had closed ranks around her.

And then he was coming over.

Another crack of the heavens; this time blue screamers, tearing up the sky.

‘Oh God,’ she said in panic, making both Ines and Bruno whip round to follow her eyeline.

‘Give us a minute,’ Xavier said to Bruno and Ines, but looking at neither. His eyes wouldn’t leave Flora.

‘What? And leave her alone with you? I don’t think so,’ Ines said fiercely, standing in front of Flora and crossing her arms over her chest for good measure.

He glanced at them both then, Bruno looking mainly embarrassed that his girlfriend was slightly overreacting to the situation. After all, what had the guy done apart from dance with her?

Xavier looked back at Flora again, seemingly instantaneously forgetting the two of them were there. ‘You look beautiful.’

Flora couldn’t have been more surprised. A compliment? From him? It stunned her more than a double-punch.

‘Right, that’s it,’ Ines said, bossily. ‘Bruno, get my bag. We’re leaving.’

‘Ines, wait—’ Flora protested as Ines caught her by the elbow and began to pull her away. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Oh, it’s ridiculous, is it? Protecting you from making a huge mistake with a guy who has pretty much slept his way through Paris, treats you like dirt—’

The sky above them was coloured purple and green, a crescendo of ‘oooh’s coming from the crowds.

‘Don’t fall for it. Have some self-respect.’

Xavier’s head whipped round, his eyes scornful on Ines. ‘You don’t know me.’

She looked up at him, fearless. ‘No, but I know all about you.’

‘And that means it’s the truth, does it? The gossip you pick up at parties?’

‘Friends. Friends of friends. Reliable sources. They can’t all be wrong,’ she replied defiantly.

Xavier turned back to Flora, dismissing Ines with the gesture. ‘I want to talk to you. Just to talk.’

‘Ha! Not based on what just happened out there, you don’t,’ Ines laughed, refusing to be cold-shouldered. ‘Your girlfriend’s not looking too happy about this, by
the way.’

Xavier didn’t turn to look, his eyes on Flora alone. Flora tried to read him – she didn’t understand why he was so hot and cold with her; snubbing her one moment, chasing her
down the next. But there was something there, between them. It might not be logical or rational but the air between them was always charged; neither one of them could deny it.

The sky flashed white, the explosion like a thunderclap. And as the night was suddenly lit up, she saw something over his shoulder.

A couple was walking towards a parked car – only the woman wasn’t walking so much as being led. Or . . . or dragged. Flora squinted, trying to see better. The sky was jet again and
although dramatic lights were being thrown up the walls, the ground beneath seemed to be drenched in blackness by comparison. But she caught a glint of sequins – gold hot pants, the lambent
flash of long, long legs that were far too much on display.

Another flash and the sky lit up. The scene became more real, more vivid. She could see now what was happening. The girl was crying, shaking her head, leaning back on her heels. ‘Oh my
God,’ Flora gasped, as the couple arrived at the car and the man tried to push the girl in, though she was locking her arms straight against the door frame and resisting. ‘Xavier,
it’s Natascha!’

He spun on his heel and with the next whipcrack of light, saw what she’d seen – the couple struggling in the shadows. His face drained of colour. In not even half a moment, he was
sprinting across the dance floor, over the grass, sending people flying as he roughly barged them out of the way. People stared after him in the commotion – tutting loudly, hissing insults,
his family’s disgraced Austrian name audible in the crowd – as they briefly turned to watch him race towards the parking area, arms pumping, the tails of his shirt untucking as he ran,
before they turned back to the celestial display.

The sky brightened. Crack! Flora’s hands flew to her mouth as she saw the man slap Natascha hard round the face, hard enough to make her hands leap to her cheeks, and he pushed her into
the car, slamming the door on her and running round to the driver’s side.

Flora watched in horror as Xavier raced over the grass. He wasn’t going to make it! The car had started, it was pulling away, a spray of gravel shooting out from behind the back
wheels.

Xavier dived forward, straight into the path of the car, landing on the bonnet. Flora screamed as the driver braked hard and Xavier rolled off, landing heavily on the gravel. People turned at
the sounds, gasps spreading as the show on the ground began to outshine the one in the sky.

Xavier was already getting up. The car windscreen was cracked, the bonnet heavily dented, and it was clear he’d taken a hard hit. His head drooped as he got unsteadily to his feet,
swaying. He looked up and saw the driver’s door was already open, the man beginning to sprint as fast as he could away from the scene.

Adrenalin kicked in. Fight or flight. Xavier ran, his long legs catching up the smaller man easily and he dived again, rugby-tackling him to the ground. The crowd gasped as one – rapt now
– as they saw his arm rise up and then dive down on the prostrate man in a ferocious punch. Flora heard someone calling for the police.

Everyone had begun to move, the crowd surging forwards.

‘Oh my God,’ Flora cried, beginning to push through the people in her way.

‘Flora, don’t.’ It was Bruno, holding her arm, holding her back. ‘Leave it.’

‘But he’s hurt!’ Flora cried.

‘Someone will have called an ambulance. Look.’ He gestured to the crowd clamouring towards the scene by the car which was now hidden from sight. ‘You can’t help right
now.’

‘But—’ Flora protested, every instinct in her body telling her to run to him.

‘Bruno’s right. You can’t do anything. It’s not like Natascha is going to thank you, let’s be honest.’

Flora felt herself deflate. They were right. Knowing Natascha, she’d scream at Flora for kicking up a fuss and making everybody stare.

‘Let’s just go,’ Ines murmured, watching as the crowd splintered – the older people and families with young children hurrying back to the tables, away from the violence,
the rest surging onto the grass. ‘I think it’s going to be a while before they get this party back on track.’

Flora didn’t reply as they guided her away from the commotion – she was searching for Xavier in the crowds but he was gone from sight; gone from her; that moment that had nearly been
something, gone.

Flora gripped her hand tighter round her Evian, the glass chilled against her palm as her legs kicked lightly in the water. She was sitting at the end of the pool in just her
bra and knickers – even at this time of night it was too hot for clothes – but she wasn’t worried about being seen. The pool lights weren’t on; they had gone off at
midnight, along with the automatic lights spotlighting the gardens an hour ago. But even if they had been on, she didn’t much care any more.

Everyone was in bed, the house in darkness. She’d heard the sound of wheels crunching over the gravel in the drive telling her when Xavier and Natascha had come back and she had stood in
her doorway, desperate to hear something, to know what had happened after her discreet exit. Their voices had sounded so altered from usual – Natascha, not raucous, but weeping quietly,
whimpering almost; Xavier’s voice beseeching, low, tender. They had stood out there, talking like that for several minutes, Xavier trying to calm his sister before they entered the house.
Flora hadn’t been able to see the front door of the house from the cottage – she was side on to it – but she had seen the cone of light pool on the drive as they’d opened
the door; seen it snap off a few seconds later as it closed behind them for the night.