Part 6 (2/2)

'I know. I'm sorry. I had to get a later flight. The meeting ran late. The traffic was unbelievable. I'm sorry.'

'You look tired.'

'I am.'

'I love you.'

Then he walked across to where I was lying on the bed. He bent low and kissed me. 'I love you too.'

I wanted to climb inside that kiss and hide away for ever. 'What will we do? Will we go out and get dinner? I saw a gorgeous place on the corner.'

'Oh, Kate, I'm exhausted, absolutely wrecked. All I'm fit for is sleep. We'll do Paris tomorrow. We'll see everything. I promise you.'

'Oh. OK.'

If there was complete devastation written across my face, it was unintentional.

'Ah, Kate, don't do this. I've been up since six. I haven't stopped all day. Just let me sleep. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.'

'OK. I'm tired too.'

Tired of waiting.

I went to the bathroom to wash my teeth, and when I returned he was already in bed, practically asleep. He grunted something, which I took to be a request to get in beside him but I ignored it. Fatigued as I was, I wasn't ready for sleep yet. I leaned over him, kissed his forehead and told him I was going out for a walk. He mumbled something else and I left the room. As I pa.s.sed the concierge he barely acknowledged me. It wasn't the same guy as before but he wore the same expression.

The night was cooler than I had expected and I had forgotten to bring a jacket. Maybe a jolt of cold air was what I needed. I knew I was being a touch unreasonable but I thought it was perfectly understandable. Sure, he'd had a long day, I could see he was exhausted, but he must know how important this night was for me. For us. I had spent the entire day without talking to anybody who wasn't in some way paid to talk or listen to members of the public. I had spent my day waiting for him. And now here he was, asleep before he could even ask how I was. My flight hadn't been so great. I had been delayed for an hour and a half. One of my bags had been mislaid. I didn't have enough clothes for the next couple of days. I was hungry. I'd been waiting to have dinner with him. I had drunk too much, just when I'd decided to cut back. I'd been lonely all day. I was still lonely.

I decided to turn back towards the hotel. I was finding it hard to think while having to keep in mind how far I'd wandered. There was no one to turn to if I got lost. Another couple was waiting for the lift as I approached. They acknowledged me, then returned to their contemplation of each other. They got out on the floor before mine.

I opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. Daniel was snoring loudly. I undressed and got in beside him. Eventually, I was asleep too.

But tomorrow was a new day. Daniel woke first and before I had even adjusted to where I was he was edging my pyjama bottoms over my knees and himself as close as my sleepy state allowed. Realizing suddenly that we were finally here, that we had actually spent the night together, I forgot any misgivings I'd had and plunged on to him. It was wonderful I loved him and we were on our own for two full days. It would be as if there was only the two of us, no wife, no kids, no work, just us. It would be perfect.

And that morning was. After our lovemaking (Daniel's energies were well restored), we decided to have breakfast in one of the many authentic restaurants on the surrounding streets. The hotel dining room seemed too provincial, too much for tourists. We had the whole city to explore. The very place I had wanted to have dinner the previous evening was open. We sat outside, even though it was almost too cold, and indulged in strong aromatic coffee and hot b.u.t.tery croissants. It tasted like heaven. This breakfast tasted like every breakfast I ever wanted to have again. Daniel was in great form: either he was intent on making it up to me for the night before, or he was truly as happy as I was.

'I couldn't stop thinking about you all day,' he said, placing a morsel of croissant in my mouth. 'I was imagining you naked in the middle of those old bores. I nearly had to leave the room.'

'Get away! I'm sure you didn't think about me once. I know what you're like when you're working.'

'Honestly! I had this mental picture of you sitting cross-legged in the middle of them all. But then I had to stop because they were having heart-attacks.'

'That was considerate of you. Listen, Daniel,' I added, 'I'm sorry I was so snippy it was just that I was so...'

He put his fingers over my lips. 'It was my fault. I should have been there sooner. I'm sorry I was so tired when I arrived.'

'Well... we're both here now.'

'And I'm going to show you the very best time Paris has to offer.'

'Oh!' I suddenly remembered. 'I have no clothes. They lost one of my bags.'

'Well, we'll buy some new ones. Don't they make clothes here in Paris? Some guy called Chanel?'

'Well... woman, originally, but yes, Chanel is here and Dior and Chloe... Are you really going to kit me out from Chanel? They are a little expensive.'

'You're worth every penny.'

We let our b.u.t.tery fingers entwine and it seemed like nothing could ever separate us.

In the end, of course, I didn't let him embellish his credit card with ladies' couture; I found the equivalent of the high street and bought a few nice things with my own. However, I did let him buy me an antique brooch from a quaint little jeweller we found in the Latin Quarter.

After popping back to the hotel to get our coats, we set off along the Paris streets with the general aim of finding the Eiffel Tower. (There are some touristy things you simply have to do.) Daniel said the view from the top was breathtaking. (I had been to Paris once before but only pa.s.sing through en route en route from Germany. I had been broke and not in the mood for sightseeing.) After a while we found ourselves at the Opera where we boarded one of those open-top bus tours. Its kitschiness was delightful and after a whistlestop tour of other sights we were deposited right outside the tower. Whatever about the view from the top, the view from below is pretty amazing. How could somebody not adore this elegant construct of nuts and bolts? We decided to climb the eighty or so flights of metal stairs, stopping briefly on the from Germany. I had been broke and not in the mood for sightseeing.) After a while we found ourselves at the Opera where we boarded one of those open-top bus tours. Its kitschiness was delightful and after a whistlestop tour of other sights we were deposited right outside the tower. Whatever about the view from the top, the view from below is pretty amazing. How could somebody not adore this elegant construct of nuts and bolts? We decided to climb the eighty or so flights of metal stairs, stopping briefly on the premiere etage premiere etage to buy a disposable camera. We pressed on to the to buy a disposable camera. We pressed on to the deuxieme etage, deuxieme etage, every twinge in our calf muscles a register of our determination. I was quite pleased to find out we had to take a lift to the third floor. I was enjoying being a pioneer but enough was enough. every twinge in our calf muscles a register of our determination. I was quite pleased to find out we had to take a lift to the third floor. I was enjoying being a pioneer but enough was enough.

The lift was large and square, gla.s.s-walled and gla.s.s-roofed. The minute I stepped inside I felt fear. The concentration I'd needed to climb the stairs had kept me from being truly aware of how high up we were. Suddenly I saw I was about to travel to nine hundred feet pressed tight against the wall of a gla.s.s box. Everybody around me looked no more animated than if they were getting the lift to Homewares in a department store. Daniel, too, was perfectly calm.

He was trying to get a picture from each side. He kept disappearing behind the increasing numbers of people crowding into the lift and when, for what seemed like a very long time, I couldn't catch sight of him, I panicked. I screamed that I couldn't breathe and flailed at the people on all sides of me, yelling at them to let me out. I tried to break through the crowd, desperate to find Daniel or the exit. Faces kept emerging to stare at me as if I was truly insane, yet n.o.body helped me.

My heart was palpitating and sweat streaked down my back. Eventually the lift operator, who was about to close the doors, grabbed my arm and guided me out on to the terrace. The next thing I remember is Daniel prising my fingers from the metal railings and holding me close to him. 'It's OK, it's OK,' he kept repeating, 'you're fine. You're out of the lift now. It's OK.'

'I'm not OK, I'm not OK, I'm such an eejit,' I wailed at him.

'You're not an eejit. That was a very small overcrowded lift.'

'But n.o.body else minded it. You didn't.'

'Kate, love, it doesn't matter, it was just a small panic-attack. I'm sure they see worse here every day. Everything's all right now.'

He squeezed me tightly and I began to believe him.

'Do you want to walk down slowly, or will we get a cup of coffee first?'

'No, no, I think I'm ready to go down. It was just the lift... so high and so crowded. I couldn't breathe in there.'

'It was a foolish idea to go all the way to the top, anyway. G.o.d knows we're high enough here.'

'But I wanted to see the top.'

'Another time...'

We started our descent, and while the climb down those steps didn't bother me, something was still niggling at me, something other than claustrophobia or the mortification of making a public spectacle of myself. I didn't know what it was or how deeply it was buried but something had made me panic in that lift, something other than a mild fear of heights and a distaste for crowds 'Come on,' I said to him, when we got to the bottom, 'let's go and get drunk.'

The rest of our holiday in Los Almiras was pa.s.sed in typical style. We did the trip to the one landmark in the region that had any pretensions towards archaeological importance; we visited the neighbouring beach, which wasn't half as nice as our own; we met the other Irish couple, who could have been our doppelgangers doppelgangers except that they actually were on their honeymoon; we had several walks on the beach and while none of them was moonlit, they were delightful; we made love every day and had o.r.g.a.s.ms like they were going out of fas.h.i.+on. By our last evening I was truly regretting that we had to leave. I'd thought Keith might drive me a little crazy but what do you know? He hadn't. except that they actually were on their honeymoon; we had several walks on the beach and while none of them was moonlit, they were delightful; we made love every day and had o.r.g.a.s.ms like they were going out of fas.h.i.+on. By our last evening I was truly regretting that we had to leave. I'd thought Keith might drive me a little crazy but what do you know? He hadn't.

We were having dinner with that other Irish couple, Don and Lorna, on the terrace restaurant. It was their last evening also; they had been on our flight out from Shannon and would be on our flight home. They were maybe a little older than us and had only been going out together a year before they got married. Both of them had been in long-term relations.h.i.+ps before in which they had nearly made it up the aisle.

'I just woke up one morning,' said Lorna, 'and realized that Steve didn't love me. I suppose I'd sort of known it for ages but when you've been with someone nearly for ever you don't a.n.a.lyse every little feeling you have about them. You just presume.'

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