From Paris With Love Page 7

  She felt guilty then, remembering what Jean-Luc had told her.

  “I guess I just don’t want you to forget me when I go home,” she whispered.

  “I will never forget you, Isabelle. I have not known you long, but I know that I will never forget you. I think we have something special. I hope we do.”

  “I hope so too” she breathed.

  He kissed her again then. And for a long while, they just lay together on the grass, Isabelle’s head against Etienne’s jumper, his arm around her shoulders. Every now and then he would lean in to kiss her.

  As the autumn breeze swept around them, he felt Isabelle shiver slightly. Glancing at his watch, he realised they had been there for nearly two hours. No wonder the air was turning autumnal.

  “Come, it is getting chilly. Odile will wonder what has happened to us! We should be getting back,” Etienne got up and reaching down, pulled Isabelle to her feet.

  “Are you coming back for dinner with us?” asked Isabelle.

  “But of course! I want to spend as much time with you as I can, ma Belle. I can call you that?”

  “Yes, it’s lovely” she really liked the diminutive of her name and the translation to ‘my beautiful one’. She felt all warm inside. Perhaps he wasn’t going to forget so quickly!

  “And tomorrow, we will find something else to do. Perhaps we will go to Meaux. It is an old city on the river Marne, not too far away and it is famous for its cheese.”

  “Maybe we should take Odile and Christina with us?” asked Isabelle dutifully.

  “We can ask them if you like, ma Belle. I am happy for them to come with us although I like to have you to myself too!”

  Together they wandered back to the car. Before opening the passenger door for her, Etienne turned to Isabelle. “You know, I will prove to you that Frenchmen do not forget quickly. At least not all of them” and he kissed her passionately as though to prove his point before opening the door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Twelve

  “So tomorrow afternoon we thought we would go to Meaux,” suggested Etienne as they all sat around the dining table later that evening, enjoying a final glass of red wine with their cheese.

  “You and Isabelle?” asked Odile

  “No, all of us,” said Isabelle. “I think Christina would like to see Meaux too and we’d love you to come too, Odile. Please say we can all go!”

  “I think it sounds good,” confirmed Christina. She had enjoyed spending a couple of hours with the neighbour’s baby, but her limited French had been severely challenged and she would enjoy going somewhere else. And with someone who spoke English!

  “So, shall we take a picnic?” suggested Odile. “Then we can leave as soon as you finish work, Etienne.”

  “Great idea! I love picnics,” exclaimed Isabelle. “Christina and I can pack it for you, for a change.”

  The plan was sorted.

  “I would come with you if I did not have to work,” said Jean-Luc. “But some of us have to work a full day, you know!” He punched Etienne playfully in the arm. “So you enjoy yourself tomorrow with the ladies, little brother!” and he winked at him.

  They drained the last of the wine from their glasses and Etienne yawned. Jean-Luc took the newspaper from the shelf nearby and began to read.

  “I’m going to head home now. Early start in the morning for work. I will be here shortly after 1pm to pick you up ladies.” He pushed his seat back from the table.

  Christina and Isabelle also got up and started clearing the table.

  “Here,” whispered Christina to her sister. “I’ll clear the table. You go and say goodnight to Etienne, properly. The balcony looks inviting!” and she winked at her.

  Etienne took Isabelle’s hand and without saying a word, they went out onto the balcony to gaze at the distant lights of Paris. This was fast becoming their nightly ritual, thought Isabelle. And a delicious habit it was too! She nestled against him as his lips met hers. A few moments later, he whispered, “I will show you, ma Belle, that Frenchmen love passionately but they do not forget!”

  She smiled at him in the darkness. “Please do,” she replied simply.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  17 aout 1981

  Chere Mademoiselle Isabelle

  Thank you for remembering my birthday – it was a lovely surprise to receive your card and present. I wear the St Christopher you sent me. In France, we say the same – St Christopher is the patron saint of travellers and will look after those on journeys. I hope it will keep me safe. It is a special present and I thank you.

  My birthday was nothing special. I went to a restaurant with some friends at the weekend to celebrate. It was in a small village close to Meaux. And I thought of you. Do you remember the day we went to Meaux? And the picnic we had? I remember how bored Christina was until we found the food shops!

  Paris is hot now. A lot of Parisians leave the city in August and go to the coast, to Britanny or Normandy or the Cote d’Azur. Luc and Odile have gone to Vendee for two weeks with their caravan. They have had some good news – Odile is going to have a baby and they are both delighted. The baby will be born in December. The same month as you! I am not leaving Paris this August. In September, I have to have another operation on my leg and I will then have to have rehabilitation, so will spend a few weeks in Normandy whilst I recover. For now I work.

  So nearly a year has passed since I met you. Well, ten months. And now I hope that you realise I have not forgotten you! Frenchmen may love passionately, but we do not all forget quickly! Sometimes I wonder if we will see each other again. And if so, when that will be.

  I think of you often, Isabelle.

  Je t’aime et je t’embrasse tendrement.

  Etienne

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was a peaceful reverent atmosphere in the historic city of Meaux. The stone ramparts had survived the test of time for several centuries and now stood as sentinels of the past and guardians of history.

  “Meaux is very beautiful and very old” explained Etienne as they parked the car outside the city on the edge of the River Marne. “We will go and explore it, but first we will have lunch!”

  They got out of the car and Etienne grabbed the picnic basket and rug from the boot of the Ford. Finding a slightly shaded area on the grassy bank, the girls laid out the picnic rug and everyone sat down.

  “So what do we have to eat? I’m starving!” exclaimed Etienne.

  Christina took the traditional wicker basket from Etienne and took out four small plates, four knives and four paper napkins. Etienne and Odile looked surprised. “We like to have a proper picnic,” explained Christina. Isabelle handed around four glasses and took out a bottle of wine that Jean-Luc had given them that morning for the lunch.

  “This is very civilised! I think it is possibly the best picnic I’ve ever had!” said Etienne.

  “But you haven’t eaten anything yet!” giggled Christina. “Just wait!”

  “Well it is certainly the poshest picnic then!” he teased.

  The girls had been to the boulangerie early that morning to buy the bread and choose pastries for each. Then they had visited the local epicerie to buy the rest of their picnic goods. They had wanted to make it special for Odile and Etienne as they were doing so much for them. They had cut the baguette into four chunks and Christina handed one to each. Isabelle passed around a container of pate and a wedge of Brie so they could take what they wanted and soon they were tucking into the food.

  The pastries had been carefully chosen – an éclair bulging with vanilla pastry cream and topped with chocolate for Odile. For Etienne, a coffee-flavoured macaron sandwiched with chocolate ganache. Christina had chosen a mille-feuille with its many leaves of flaky pastry and delicious filling. Isabelle had chosen an opera cake as she liked the look of the layers of cake, chocolate and buttercream – she also thought it sounded posh.

  “Now I can really say it was the po
shest picnic I’ve had,” said Etienne as he licked his fingers. “That was delicious, girls, thank you.”

  “Really delicious. And extra special as I didn’t have to prepare anything,” added Odile as she finished off her éclair.

  They lay on the rug for a few more minutes, pleasantly sated as they finished off the last of the wine. They packed everything back in the basket, folded the rug and Etienne took it back to the car.

  “We can walk into Meaux from here,” said Odile. “It is not far and a walk will do us good after all that food.”

  They set off along a tree-lined avenue which would take them towards the historic centre. As they passed the vestiges of an old building, Etienne explained that it was called the Chateau de Montceaux-les-Meaux and had been built by a rich Parisian banker. Sadly it had fallen into disrepair and was no longer habitable. It stood as a stately memory to a graceful past.

  “The cathedral here is very special,” explained Etienne as they neared the centre. “It is called the Cathedrale Saint Etienne! And so it is very special for me. It was built nearly 800 years ago although it took many years to complete. There are five doorways with beautiful sculptures which once witnessed the war of religion many, many years ago.”

  The stately exterior reminded Isabelle of the Notre-Dame cathedral they had seen in Paris on Sunday. The architectural style seemed very similar.

  “Who was Saint Etienne?” she asked.

  “He is widely thought to have been the first martyr of Christianity,” explained Etienne. “He upset important people by his teachings and was stoned to death for his beliefs and for blasphemy.”

  “Did you know that in France most babies are named after saints?” asked Odile

  The girls looked surprised. “No,” replied Christina. “We didn’t know that. Why is it?”

  “It used to be the law that children had to be named after a saint. Then in the 1960s they included a few more modern names, but most people are still named after saints, particularly if they are catholic,” explained Odile. “One day it will change, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think there are any laws like that in England. I’m sure there aren’t.”

  “Quite often children are named after family, like parents or grandparents,” injected Isabelle. “My middle name is Dorothy because my grandmother was Dorothy. It’s particularly common with sons having their father’s name.”

  “It is the same in France,” said Odile. “Sometimes a boy may even be given the name of a female relative, like Jean-Marie for a boy who may be named after a father and mother or other relations.”

  The girls laughed – they thought that was odd.

  “Are you named after your parents, Etienne?” asked Isabelle.

  “Of course. We are quite a traditional family. I am named for my grandfather. My middle name is Jean-Pierre, after my father and uncle. And my brother has Jean-Luc after my father and grandfather.”

  “We don’t have the name Etienne in England,” said Christina thoughtfully. “Or Odile. Maybe there is some English translation?”

  “I think Etienne is the same as Stephen,” replied Isabelle, vaguely recalling a distance French lesson about names. “I don’t think it’s right to translate people’s name though.”

  Etienne was pointing out another building close the cathedral. “Over there is the vieux chapitre. It is the sacristy. Can you see the wooden bridge? That links the sacristy with the cathedral.”

  The girls followed his pointed finger and gazed at the stately building for a few moments. The novelty of looking at historic buildings was wearing a bit thin for Christina now. And if Isabelle was completely honest, she was getting bored too – however she could listen to Etienne’s beautiful accent all day, no matter what he was actually talking about! She was surprised how much he knew about the different buildings and architecture. She certainly wouldn’t have a clue if she was trying to guide visitors in her home town! Although apart from Brighton pavilion, she wasn’t aware of any historic buildings – she certainly knew nothing about any of the churches. The only time they ever went to church as a family was Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday.

  “Are there any shops here?” asked Christina hopefully.

  “Yes, we will walk into the town centre now,” Odile obviously shared Christina’s desire to move on.

  The narrow streets held a wide variety of shops and the pungent smell of cheese greeted them.

  “Meaux is famous for its Brie,” explained Odile. “It used to be called the King’s cheese. It is a soft cheese, like camembert, but bigger. Come, we will buy some to have with dinner tonight. We shall go to the most famous shop for Brie – it is called La Fromagerie Ganot”

  They found the fromagerie, an old white-washed building with blue wooden shutters on the corner. Pots of geraniums tumbled down a small balcony and stood sentinel by the door. An old-fashioned wooden plaque boasted the name. Inside the building, sparkling glass cabinets displayed a variety of enticing cheeses. Behind the counter, many were already wrapped in the traditional circular wooden boxes ready for purchase.

  Odile looked at the variety and took a while to select the cheese from amongst the different flavours. Finally she bought a brie cheese and several other small items, exchanging pleasantries with the saleslady.

  “Now we find some mustard – you must take some home for your parents. I think your father would like it very much,” declared Odile.

  The girls weren’t sure. They had only known him to have English mustard with his bacon sandwich. Still, they would buy him a small jar. The mustard came in unique ceramic grey-coloured jars boasting a red seal and traditional label. There were jars of all sizes, some very large and several different flavours.

  “It is a secret recipe” explained the salesman behind the counter. “We have mustard with Cognac, with honey – many different flavours. What would you like?”

  The girls chose the smallest jar of a traditional mustard, watched as the man wrapped it in brown paper and then handed over their francs.

  Afterwards they walked back along the river. Odile and Christina chatted together in their distinct Franglais – at least they seemed to understand each other!

  Etienne and Isabelle wandered along behind them slower, their fingers entwined, their bodies close together and they chatted softly, stopping every now and then for a kiss. They came to the river where barges and a few wooden boats floated on the mirror-like surface. A shabby cabin cruiser rippled the water as it chugged along, a Frenchman stood at the helm, sporting a beret and with a cigarette hanging from his lips. They crossed the ancient stone bridge and headed back towards the car.

  Once again, Etienne came for dinner. Jean-Luc and Odile didn’t seem to mind that he was becoming a permanent fixture at their dining table. Odile simply laid another place and Jean-Luc filled another glass of red wine.

  Once again, Isabelle and Etienne snuck out to the balcony after dinner to whisper, to kiss and simply to be together. No-one seemed to mind. If anything, they all seemed happy for them both, that they had found each other.

  “So, ma Belle,” asked Etienne softly. “Did you enjoy Meaux?”

  “Very much. Mainly I enjoyed being with you,” replied Isabelle.

  “I like showing you my world and sharing it with you. Maybe one day I will come to England and you will show me your world?”

  Isabelle nodded. It seemed so perfect, a dream. Perhaps it would come true. She could hope.

  “And what would you show me?” asked Etienne. “If I were to come to Brighton?”

  “Oh, that’s easy! I would walk along the beach with you at sunset. We would paddle in the sea, even though it’s always freezing. We would walk along the pier and eat fish and chips out of yesterday’s newspaper,” enthused Isabelle, her eyes shining at the thought. For a moment, she remembered his apparent love of architecture and her distinct lack of knowledge and wondered if he would be disappointed. She quickly brushed the thought away. The evening was made for happiness and rom
ance.

  “That all sounds very romantic!” teased Etienne. “You like romance?”

  Isabelle felt herself blush and was grateful for the velvet darkness of the night.

  “Maybe we would go to London. Then I would take you to see Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. We would visit Buckingham Palace, Westminster and St Paul’s Cathedral. There is so much to see in London.” That would satisfy his curiosity for architecture and even she had to admit that the buildings in London were compelling. “And there are beautiful parks too. Are there parks in Paris?”

  “Yes, we have the Bois de Boulogne and the Bois de Vincennes. They are two large parks – the lungs of Paris, we call them. The Bois de Boulogne is to the West and the Bois de Vincennes to the East. Perhaps we will visit one, if we have time.”

  Isabelle felt her heart sink at his last words – if we have time. She realised they were halfway through their holiday. Three days had already past – three amazing, wonderful, memorable days. And only three remained. She sighed.

  “Why do you sigh?” asked Etienne, a frown in his eyes.

  “Because we have only three days left before I go home,” she replied sadly.

  “Well then we will make the most of those three days and fill them with happiness, fun and romance. So you will have happy memories to take home with you.”

  He kissed her tenderly and then whispered, “And don’t forget, ma Belle, I am not like the other Frenchmen, I will not forget you and I will write to you.”

  Isabelle brightened. He was right. And for now she wouldn’t think beyond next Saturday. She wouldn’t worry about what may or may not happen. She would just enjoy the time together. She snuggled further into his arms, as his face bent down to hers and his lips met hers in a deep, passionate kiss that whispered promises.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Fourteen

  June 2015