Sarah Morgan - One Summer In Paris

Not reaching out to grab it required more willpower than Audrey knew she had.

She slipped her feet out of her shoes and turned back to her phone.

A dental surgery needed someone to answer the phones and book appointments. True, Audrey didn’t speak French but there would be advantages to not understanding the inner workings of dentistry.

She was about to close the app when a photograph caught her eye.

She lifted the phone closer and peered at the text.

A bookshop on the Left Bank was looking for someone to help out part-time during the summer.

Audrey let out a snort of laughter. Working in a book-shop? If a worse job existed, she couldn’t think of it. She hated books. She hated reading.

She was about to scroll past the job when something caught her eye.

Did that say accommodation included? Yes, it did.

Audrey stared at her phone. That side of things had been worrying her. How was she going to find somewhere to live when she didn’t speak French, didn’t know Paris and had limited funds?

Her pulse raced forward, taking her imagination with it.

A job with accommodation would solve all her problems. Still, a bookshop? She saw now that it was a used bookshop. Did that mean it was full of books people had given away? That was a concept she could get behind.

What sort of person would they be looking for?

Someone brainy and serious. Audrey was neither of those things, but she could fake it if necessary. She was used to presenting a fake self to the world. She’d tie her hair back. Maybe buy a pair of glasses to make herself look more intelligent. Try not to talk too much or crack jokes. That way she’d be less likely to reveal her real self.

“Hey! Audie!” Meena appeared in front of her. “I was wondering if you’d be here.”

Meena worked at the supermarket in the high street and sometimes they managed to coincide their lunch break.

“You’re late.”

“I was being verbally abused by a customer who couldn’t find his favorite brand of canned tomatoes.”

Audrey didn’t see how a can of tomatoes could be the cause of friction, but she did know people got all revved up about different things. “Tomato rage.”

“Don’t even joke about it. I was afraid he was going to throw it at me, and it was a multipack. That would have been the end of me.” Meena sat down next to her and opened her lunch box. “Where’s your lunch?”

“I ate it.” Audrey put her phone on her lap. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” Meena investigated. “Pakora, rice, yogurt—that’s to absorb the heat from the chili.”

“It smells good. What’s in it?”

“Vegetables and love.” Meena grinned. “That’s what my mum told me. When I was little I thought you bought love in the market, along with carrots.”

“I can’t believe your mum makes all that for you every day and works as a doctor.”

“Yeah, well, home-cooked food is a big deal in my house. Mum says she finds cooking calming. I do, too. Sometimes I think my whole family is glued together by food.”

Audrey felt no envy that her friend had a place at Oxford University, but she envied Meena her family. “Is your sister still good at French?”

“My sister is okay but my cousin is better. She gets top marks in everything.” Meena ate a spoonful of yogurt. “It’s annoying how good she is at languages.”

“There’s a job I want to apply for, but my French isn’t good enough. Do you think she’d help?”

“Yes. If she doesn’t, I won’t help her with physics.” Meena leaned across, trying to read Audrey’s phone. “What’s the job?”

“It’s a bookshop in Paris. The pay is crap, but it comes with a studio apartment.”

With the money she’d saved from working in the hair salon she’d be able to afford to get herself to Paris and keep herself for two weeks, maybe three if she ate only one meal a day. Then she’d need to find a job.

True, she didn’t know anything about the Left Bank or the Right Bank and would definitely get them muddled up because knowing her left from her right was one of her biggest struggles, but she’d find a way.

“Wait.” Meena stopped chewing. “You’re going to have your own apartment and a job in a bookshop? That’s cool. But if your French isn’t good enough to apply for the job, how are you going to manage when you get there?”

The same way she’d lived her whole life. “I’ll muddle through.”

“You’re so brave. What do they want you to do?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that. Your French is pretty good, too.” Audrey thrust the phone toward her friend, and Meena read it quickly.

“You need to write a piece on why books and reading are important.”

“Crap.”

Meena wiped her fingers. “I thought you hated books and reading.”

“I do. I prefer movies.” Her secret passion was watching animated movies, but she’d never admit to anything so childish. “Obviously I’m not going to tell them that. Does your cousin like books?”

“Yes. She’s always reading.”

“Great. So if she could write why she loves books, in French, I’ll send that off. Can you ask her tonight?”

“Sure.” Meena peered into her lunch box. “Why does my mum make me so much food? If I ate it all I’d be the size of a small office building. Every day I have to throw it away in case she finds out I didn’t eat it all and gets offended. I don’t suppose you want some, do you?”

“Sure.” Audrey had to stop herself from falling face-first into the lunch box like Hardy and his dog bowl. “Anything for a friend.”

She consumed the rest of Meena’s food and tried to figure out a way to persuade Meena’s mother to adopt her.

She was on her way back to the salon when her mother texted.

Come home. It’s an emergency.

Audrey stopped in the doorway. Ellen was cutting hair. Milly answering the phone. The salon was heaving with people. And there was Mrs. Dunmore, who always booked on a Saturday because she liked Audrey to wash her hair.

She glanced at her phone again, torn.

Her mother’s idea of an emergency was running out of gin.

Saturday was the busiest day of the week at work. She was part of a team. She wasn’t going to let them down.

She switched off her phone and walked into the salon.

By the time she eventually arrived home, her mother was waiting for her at the front door, her face ravaged by grief and her breath smelling of alcohol.

“Ron and I have broken up.”

Audrey’s heart hit the ground. “But the wedding is in a week. What happened?”

She walked into the house and closed the door, keen to keep their problems firmly inside.

“I drove him away. Everybody leaves me. No one loves me.”

Audrey struggled to stay calm.

It was her worst nightmare. She’d put all her faith in Ron. “What did you fight about?”

“Nothing!”

“It must have been something.”

“I can’t even remember.” Linda waved her hand. “Something small. I said it was obvious that he didn’t love me and that he might as well just leave right now, so he did.”

“Did he—” Audrey swallowed. “Did he actually say he wanted to break up? Maybe he just needed some air.” She needed air all the time when she was around her mother. “Have you called him?”

“What’s the point? He was always going to leave at some point, so maybe it’s better that it’s now.” Her mother sank onto the sofa. “You’re right, I have to take control of my life.”

Audrey felt a flutter of hope. That was something, at least. “Right. We’ll make an appointment with the doctor. I’ll come with you, and—”

“I started with your room.”

“What?”