A Year Like No Other Page 7

  “I don’t think I can go,” Ashling replied, a worried frown on her face. “I don’t have a baby-sitter.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Sophie, making a face as she sipped the awful coffee. “I have a girl who baby-sits for me when Cosette is away. She loves children and also speaks English. Let me call her to see if she’s free.”

  Again the rapid French and then she rang off, beaming. “No problem, Nicole will be delighted to do it.”

  “Great! What would I do without you? You’re a gem!” Ashling said, giving her a hug.

  “I know,” Sophie replied, her eyes twinkling. “I tell myself that every day.”

  Laughing, they gathered up the kids and set off for home, Ashling happy that she’d found the perfect school for her little daughters and now, it seemed, the perfect baby-sitter also. She would never have managed without Sophie, she thought, meaning it sincerely.

  10

  On Tuesday morning as Brandon and Max were busy settling into their exciting new project, Taylor and Felicity were hitting the shops. They had met at nine thirty and set off down the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. As Taylor dragged her into one designer shop after another – salons, Taylor called them, but they were just fancy shops as far as she could see – Felicity marvelled at her friend’s composure. She swept in as though she was their most important client and as a result they treated her as such. Felicity was very intimidated by all these chic Parisian saleswomen. It was one thing shopping in John Lewis and Selfridge’s in London – and she was even intimidated there – but Paris was something else! She envied the other woman’s confidence and bravura and wished she had even a fraction of it herself.

  It was breathtaking to see the speed at which Taylor could spend. No procrastination for her! She ordered €2000 worth of clothes in the first fifteen minutes they were out and within two hours she had racked up over €12,000 worth of goods. Paris Hilton had nothing on this girl!

  Felicity found herself admiring a narrow snakeskin leather belt in Gucci and Taylor insisted that she buy it.

  “Go on, Felicity, you’ve bought nothing at all! You’ll make me feel bad if I have all this stuff and you have nothing,” she’d insisted.

  Embarrassed, Felicity had given in and bought it but had been shocked at the price tag of €350. Seeing this, she’d been tempted to back down and change her mind but she couldn’t. What would Taylor think of her if she did?

  “What do the men think we’ll be doing all day in Paris? It’s like taking a child to a candy store and then saying they can’t have anything,” Taylor said in her New York drawl. “They owe us – big-time.”

  Felicity was inclined to agree with her and felt better after that.

  “I’m exhausted,” Taylor declared, unsurprisingly, shortly after eleven thirty. “Let’s go and have coffee. The Ritz is just around the corner.”

  Felicity had wanted to visit the Ritz ever since she’d seen those very sad, last pictures of Princess Diana leaving there on the night she died. It was with a feeling of awe that she entered the elegant hotel. She had been to Claridge’s and some other top hotels in London with Maxwell but nothing prepared her for the opulence and grandeur of the Ritz in Paris. She had to stop herself gaping as she walked down the plush carpeted hallway with its glass cases showing the frighteningly expensive merchandise on sale in the boutiques opposite. Taylor was totally unfazed and, spotting a divine jewelled Judith Leiber evening bag, was its proud owner three minutes later. Another €2000!

  In the restaurant, Felicity couldn’t help but notice the expensive jewels on the other women seated there. There was an air of calm, the staff were very friendly and attentive and thankfully they all spoke English. When the coffee and tiny sandwiches and pastries arrived, Felicity sighed in pure bliss. This was the life! Why was I so concerned about coming to Paris? It’s really frightfully civilised. Of course, I didn’t know that I would meet such a wonderful friend as Taylor. And an American at that! It just goes to show – one should never prejudge.

  Discussing Princess Diana, Felicity was very impressed to hear that Taylor had actually met the princess, two years before her death.

  “Yes, she attended a charity luncheon I was at. Beautiful woman,” Taylor said nonchalantly. Felicity sighed with envy. “And of course,” Taylor continued, “the Duchess of York and I are good friends. We meet often at charity events. She’s quite a celebrity in the States, you know.”

  Felicity didn’t like to point out that, contrary to popular belief, she was no longer the Duchess of York, just plain Sarah Ferguson, and no longer in favour with the Royal Family and their supporters. She suspected that Taylor would be most displeased if she mentioned this so she kept her mouth shut and kept it to herself.

  Before they parted she screwed up the courage to invite Taylor and Brandon to lunch the following Sunday. To her joy, Taylor said they’d come. It was great to have found such a good friend so soon, Felicity thought happily as she made her way home.

  That evening, Ashling found her way, as directed, to the gym where Jazz and Sophie were waiting for her.

  “Gosh, this is great,” she said, as she kissed them both on the cheeks. “I’m only five minutes’ walk away from here. How fantastic is that? This is one terrific city.”

  “You can say that again,” Jazz remarked as they went inside. “I had to pinch myself as I was walking across the Seine. It’s so beautiful.”

  Sophie checked them in as guests and they left their bags and jackets in her locker. They changed into workout clothes and Ashling felt very self-conscious in her leggings and long T-shirt when she saw the smart gear of her two friends. Of course, they had fabulous figures and had no need to cover up like she did. The ladies’ locker room was state of the art and so was the gym they entered shortly afterwards.

  A tall blond Adonis came bounding over to Sophie.

  “Bonsoir.” Sophie kissed him on both cheeks. “I’ve brought you two new victims,” she laughed. “This is Ashling, from Ireland.”

  “Hi, welcome,” he said, in a very pronounced Australian accent.

  “And Jazz, from Germany.”

  “Wow! What a great body,” he whistled, looking Jazz up and down in appreciation. “Hi, you’re very welcome,” he said, enthusiastically.

  Jazz was dressed in tight black shorts and a fuchsia mini-vest-top which showed off her perfectly hard tanned stomach and long, slim legs.

  “You don’t look like you need my help,” he grinned cheekily, admiration showing in his eyes.

  “Believe me, I need it to keep in shape,” she grinned back, finding this friendly guy very much to her liking. He looked like a surfer, all blond and tanned and muscular with startlingly blue eyes. Well, working out won’t be so difficult with this hunk in sight, she thought.

  As Jazz was an experienced gym-goer, he let her choose what machines she wanted to work on. Sophie headed for the treadmill while Hugh took Ashling in hand. He couldn’t believe that she’d never visited a gym before. There were sweating bodies, male and female, on almost all of the machines.

  “It’s the busiest period,” he told her, seeing her look of anxiety.

  “I’ll be coming in the mornings once my little girls start school next week.”

  “That will be much quieter,” he assured her. “Not many men then. Mostly young mothers like yourself.”

  “Whew, that’s a relief!”

  He was very patient and gentle with her as he explained the various machines and then set her up on the treadmill next to Jazz.

  Ashling felt like a hulk as she walked on the treadmill while all around her others were running on them. Jazz actually had hers inclined as she raced along beside her. She was barely breaking a sweat while Ashling was perspiring like mad and out of breath. It brought home to her just how out of condition she was. She then went on the bike and after only five minutes gave up, almost in a state of collapse. Seeing how fresh her two friends were made her more determined than ever to get in shape. This is it, she tol
d herself. It starts tonight! She went out to the reception desk with Jazz and they both signed up for the year.

  They went into the café afterwards and over Perrier water they discussed the reception in the Hôtel de Ville.

  “What should I wear?” Ashling wanted to know.

  “A classy cocktail dress, I think,” Sophie advised.

  “I don’t really have anything suitable, I’m afraid,” Ashling replied, thinking of her wardrobe of hippy-style dresses.

  “It will be a very chic affair,” Sophie informed them, her eyes glowing with anticipation. “Everyone who is anyone will be there. It should be fabulous.”

  “Why not treat yourself to something new?” Jazz suggested. “I’ll come shopping with you on Saturday, if you like.”

  “Would you?” Ashling asked her. “I’m useless on my own. I never know what suits me.”

  “Sure. No problem, I love shopping. It’ll be fun.”

  Ashling recounted this conversation to Kieran when she got home.

  “Yes, of course you must buy something nice,” he replied. “It looks like we’ll be invited to lots of receptions here although Yves says that this one can only be topped by being invited to the Élysée Palace.”

  He was in terrific form, loving his job and pleased that Ashling and the girls were settling in. All he needed now was to get in a good round of golf but he couldn’t see that happening any time soon.

  11

  The following Saturday morning, Ashling went to meet Jazz for their shopping expedition. Kieran and the girls accompanied her as he was taking them on to the Tuileries Gardens for the morning. They were very excited about visiting the carnival there.

  “They’re so cute,” Jazz remarked as they left.

  Again, Ashling heard that sad note in her voice.

  “We’re going to Galeries Lafayette,” Jazz told her as they made their way to the metro. They had to look at the map to check their route as neither of them was as yet familiar with the underground system.

  “Oh God, I’m aching all over after the gym this week,” Ashling complained as they got on the train.

  “You know what they say – no pain, no gain,” Jazz laughed, showing her no compassion at all.

  “You’re cruel,” Ashling cried, mock-punching her.

  Hurtling along under the Seine and streets of Paris, Ashling thought how badly an underground system was needed in Dublin. It was far easier to get around this huge metropolis of Paris than her home town of Dublin. Thinking of how the Celtic Tiger had deserted Ireland made her sad but happy to be where she was right now. Things were still dire back there, by all accounts, and set to get worse.

  They entered the massive department store with its huge domed ceiling and circular foyer and Ashling felt relieved. She had been afraid that Jazz would want to take her to one of the snooty designer boutiques and she didn’t have the confidence for that. This store was beautiful and not at all intimidating.

  “When I was a student and didn’t have a cent to my name, I used to come in here and look up at that dome and all the levels of beautiful clothes going round and swear that one day I would come back and shop here,” Jazz said, smiling wistfully. “And now, here I am.”

  “I didn’t know you lived here before.” Ashling was surprised.

  “Oh yes. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime. But now let’s find a dress for you.”

  Ashling stood by as Jazz whizzed around pulling dresses off rails. With her arms full, she ushered her friend into the fitting room where Ashling proceeded to try on the clothes Jazz had picked out. She came out wearing them, one by one, and at each Jazz shook her head.

  “No, not right,” she remarked tersely after each one. They were either too tight – too loose – too long – too short – too frumpy.

  Back in the shop, Ashling was beginning to despair until Jazz pounced on a gorgeous green dress. Ashling looked at the label. Issa, she read. “That’s the brand so many well-dressed celebrities are wearing nowadays,” she said excitedly.

  Jazz hustled her into the fitting room again and when she came out wearing the dress, she got the thumbs-up from a beaming Jazz.

  “Perfect!”

  “Do you not think –”

  “It’s perfect! The colour is exactly the green of your eyes and it really suits you. It makes you look slim too.”

  “Maybe not slim exactly,” Ashling grimaced, “but slimmer, that’s for sure.”

  Looking at herself in the mirror she could see that Jazz was right. The dress was very flattering.

  “I don’t know how you knew to pick this one out,” she said as she twirled around. “I’m useless. I’d never have known what to choose.”

  Next Jazz ushered her down to the shoe department where she insisted that Ashling try on a pair of green-and-navy Sergio Rossi shoes. They were much higher than she normally wore but amazingly they were very comfortable.

  It was incredible how much slimmer her legs looked in these heels. Jazz certainly knew what she was doing where fashion was concerned.

  “I’m so grateful,” Ashling told her. “I would never have chosen these or the dress, by myself. Now I’ll feel much more confident on Thursday night.”

  Jazz looked at her and thought that if only she could lose about ten kilos, she’d look sensational. With her red-gold hair and green eyes, she was so pretty, but the weight was holding her back. She debated whether she should say this to Ashling or not. Better not, she decided. She didn’t know her quite well enough yet.

  Jazz then dragged her along to look at a Herve Leger dress that she was thinking of buying. She tried it on and, when she came out of the fitting room, Ashling thought that she had never seen anyone look more beautiful.

  The dress was a silver metallic sheath and it followed the curves of Jazz’s wonderful body like a second skin. It had a V neckline front and back and came to about five inches above the knee.

  “Wow!” Ashling let out a low whistle. “That is sensational on you. It fits you like a glove!”

  “That’s the point of these bandage dresses,” Jazz informed her, as she turned this way and that in front of the mirror. “They’re really very flattering.”

  “You don’t need much flattering,” Ashling said enviously.

  After Jazz had paid for her dress, Ashling invited her for a glass of wine to say thanks for her help.

  They went to a nearby café where Ashling ordered a glass of chardonnay and a coffee.

  “Aren’t you having a glass of wine?” Jazz asked.

  “No. I’ve started a diet. I seriously want to lose about a stone and a half.”

  “How much is that in kilos?” Jazz wanted to know.

  “About ten kilos.”

  Jazz smiled. “If you can lose that ten kilos by Christmas, we’ll be back in here buying you a Herve Leger dress too!”

  “I wish,” Ashling said, not very convinced.

  “Trust me. Let that be your motivation. I’ll drink to that,” Jazz toasted her, relieved that she hadn’t been the one to suggest that Ashling lose weight.

  Jazz went to the gym after the shopping trip and was flattered by the obviously smitten Hugh’s attentions. He practically ignored the other clients’ efforts while he concentrated on her workout. He asked her out for a drink afterwards but she laughingly declined. She had enough man trouble at the moment, thank you very much. She thought about Yves constantly and all the old feelings she’d had for him had resurfaced. She was trying to figure out what to do about him – not to mention Hans who had been calling her constantly. It was obvious that he missed her. Rediscovering her feelings for Yves made her realise that there could never be a future for Hans and herself now. She knew that she would have to go back to Frankfurt soon and tell him face to face that it was over. Not for her the Daniel-Day-Lewis-style fax to Isabelle Adjani, finishing their long relationship! She was not looking forward to that meeting with Hans.

  Hugh came up to her as she was leaving.

&n
bsp; “Hey, Jazz. A group of my friends and I are taking a boat down the Seine tomorrow for a picnic – Aussie-style. Why don’t you join us?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling. Seeing her hesitation, he added, “It’ll be good craic.”

  “Where did you hear that word?” she asked him, surprised.

  “My dad is Irish – and I have a lot of Irish friends here in Paris.” Seeing that he’d caught her interest, he cajoled her. “They’ll be there tomorrow. How about it?”

  She looked at his boyish, handsome face. She could well imagine that he would be great fun. He had such zest for life.

  “Why not?” she smiled at him.

  “Bloody great!” he whooped. “I promise you, you’ll have a great day.”

  They arranged to meet up the following morning and he bounded off, a huge grin on his face. She couldn’t help but smile.

  That night, Ashling rang her.

  “I just want to say thanks for today. I really enjoyed it and I love my new gear. Kieran is very impressed.”

  “That’s great. I can’t wait to see you in it, all dressed up.”

  “We were wondering if you’d like to come to lunch tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve arranged to go with Hugh from the gym on a picnic down the Seine.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” Ashling laughed. “My God, Kieran is right. You are a femme fatale.”

  “No, no, it’s not like that,” Jazz protested. “He’s much too young for me but it sounds like it will be fun. His dad’s Irish, you know, and so are a lot of his friends here. In fact,” she giggled, “what persuaded me to go was when he said it would be great craic.”

  “I’m sure it will be. Have a great day. I’ll be dying to hear all about it.”

  12

  Max was not at all pleased when Felicity told him that she had invited Taylor and Brandon for lunch on Sunday. He could sense how manipulative Taylor was and feared that his wife would be completely dominated by her. However, when he saw how occupied and happy Felicity was, preparing for the lunch, he thought that it was better than having her moping around the house all day, waiting for him to come home and entertain her. To his delight she had even encouraged him to go and play golf on the Saturday. Much as he despised Taylor, he was grateful for small mercies!