Page 91 of The Last Kiss
“I’ll just get dressed.” I say.
“D’accord. Sorry, I mean okay. Oncle Henri will be back soon.”
“You don’t have school?” I tuck my legs up. Clearly, I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.
“No, I did some lessons this morning.”
“Lessons?”
“Grand-mere thought it best for me to be tutored at home.”
“Do you live in Paris with your mum some of the time?”
Looping my arms around my legs, I rest my head on my knees. I could really do with a coffee. Tea. Anything caffeinated.
“Sometimes I do, but she’s very busy. She spends a lot of time…” Simone rolls her hands. “Creating.”
“Creating what?”
“A mess, Grand-mere calls it.”
Well, that’s a bit rude.
“She’s an artist though, right?”
Simone frowns at me and I try to make my question a little clearer. “Your mother, she paints?”
“Oui. I can show you?”
“I’d love that. But I have to get out of bed first.” I point at the cover and my naked form underneath and Simone’s cheeks pink.
“I’m so sorry. Don’t tell Oncle Henri will you? He said I had to let you sleep.”
“Of course not. Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll get dressed and then you can show me around? I didn’t get much chance to see things yesterday.”
“Okay.” She nods, face brightening with a beautiful smile that has a glimmer of Henri but must be more of her parents. Where on earth is her dad?
“So, if you want to wait, you know, outside…” I trail off.
“Oh,” she nods and scrambles from the bed. “I’ll call William and Harold.”
My skin prickles with alarmed sweat that has nothing to do with the morning sun now heating the room like a sauna. Please God, tell me there aren’t two more ‘wards’ hanging around.
“William and Harold?”
“Oui, Oncle Henri’s dogs.”
I laugh, but it’s got a nervous lilt, off-key, shaken and definitely stirred.
I really know nothing about Henri, and while I know he knows nothing about me, it still hits like a thunderbolt to the chest.
Once she’s gone to round up the mysterious dogs, I scramble from the bed grabbing a thick white robe to pull over my shoulders. It’s hotel thick, knuckle deep. With more effort than it probably deserves—damn useless body—I flop my suitcase onto the bed and rifle through for an outfit, settling on a pair of pale shorts and a ditsy strappy vest. My legs are far from sunshine ready, but a quick peek at the burning inferno the other side of the thick curtains assures me I will be a tasty bacon pink by the end of the day.
On a whim I pull out the peacock diary. I have no idea why I packed it, probably because it was the closest thing to a book to hand, and everyone knows you need a book on holiday. Automatically, I flick to my Henri inspired list at the front, a wide grin stretching my face until the corners of my lips sting. Near the windows is a desk. I’m sure it’s got a fancy name I don’t know, but regardless, I stalk for it and shamelessly rifle through the drawers looking for a biro. No biro, but I do find a Montblanc… farmer, my arse.
Chewing on my bottom lip I add: Have sex in a barn as a new entry and then put my obligatory line through it.
A tingle ripples down my spine as I think of what today might bring. Anything Henri shaped has got to be a plus. I need as much of him as I can get in this short amount of time I’ve got. I can’t think about how I’ll leave, what I will say, how I’ll tell him I probably won’t see him again. Today isn’t for those thoughts, possibly not tomorrow either. Tucking the book back away in my case, I grab up my chosen outfit and slip into the bathroom before Simone comes back with the dogs.
