A Week in Paris Read Online Free Page A

music, it was hard to be annoyed with Lois, a bright, cheerful girl employed as a secretary in an advertising agency and currently dating one of the account managers. Fay had answered her newspaper ad for a flatmate a few months before and they’d taken to one another at once. She liked sharing with Lois because she was even-tempered and didn’t penny-pinch, and also because she was out most of the time. The downsides were few, but principally derived from Lois’s inability to do anything quietly at any time of day or night, and her somewhat erratic approach to housekeeping.
    Fay started to say, ‘I had a bit of good news actually,’ but was too late. Lois had jumped up, blowing on her nails, and was flying to her room. ‘There are chocolate eclairs in the kitchen,’ she called behind her. ‘Help yourself,’ and bang went her bedroom door.
    In the shabby kitchenette Fay explored the pantry and was relieved to find both bread and cheese for her rarebit. There was even a scraping of mustard left in the pot. An éclair would finish supper off nicely, she decided, as she lit the grill and laid a plate on the chipped Formica. Lois, who didn’t like cooking and often ate out, rarely bought proper food, only treats.
    As she settled on the sofa with her supper, Lois, now dressed, emerged from her bedroom in a cloud of Worth’s
Je Reviens
and started to stuff the contents of one handbag into another. ‘Heck, I nearly forgot,’ she said, examining a scrap of paper. ‘Somebody left this downstairs by the phone.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Fay said, taking the paper. Written on it in spindly Biro was
Miss Knox to ring Mrs Gloria Ambler, Norwich 51423
. Her mother’s neighbour in Little Barton. Why would she be calling?
    ‘Anything wrong?’ asked Lois.
    ‘I hope not.’
    Just then the doorbell rang. ‘Oh, lor’, that must be Simon!’ Lois said. ‘I’ll be right down!’ she called into the intercom and started shuffling into her shoes.
    ‘Lois,’ Fay said, swallowing a mouthful too quickly. ‘Listen. I’ll be away for a week in April. You’ll never guess. I’m going to Paris with the orchestra!’
    ‘Paris?’ Lois swung round, one arm in her coat. ‘You jammy devil! How did you wangle that?’
    ‘That second violin who’s hurt his wrist won’t be fit enough. It’ll be hard work, mind you, there are three concerts, but just think – a whole week in Paris!’
    ‘In the spring,’ breathed Lois, looking wistful. ‘Simon has never taken me further than Brighton.’
    Fay couldn’t help smiling. It wasn’t often that Lois envied her.
    The doorbell rang again, this time more urgently. ‘Coming!’ Lois sang into the intercom. In the doorway she turned dramatically and said, ‘Paris. You lucky, lucky thing,’ before going out, slamming the door behind her.
    Fay grinned. She was delighted at this chance, but as she ate her supper, thinking about the trip, part of her was troubled. It was five years since her schoolgirl visit to Paris – how young and naïve she’d been then, as green as salad. Certain memories from that time lingered The strange feeling she’d had of déjà vu in Notre Dame, the shock of the bell tolling. And Adam. She still thought about him sometimes. A boy she’d met at sixteen and only talked to for part of an evening, but had liked very much. She’d never heard from him again, but then she hadn’t expected to.
    Since she’d moved to London she’d been out with several men. One of them, a young solicitor whom she’d first met when a friend brought him to a concert, had, after a few months of them seeing one another, asked her to get engaged. Jim had been a charming, classically handsome man, if a little staid. She’d been rather flattered by his attention and found him good company, but when she considered the prospect of spending the rest of her life with him, it felt as though a heavy weight was pressing down on her. He talked about buying a house in Surrey and his ambition to be a