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Will started handing out drinks, obviously ordered before they’d arrived. ‘Look there’s a table over there, with a couple of stools.’ He nodded over the vacant table and the group started to move that way.
‘What do you want to drink?’ asked Jason, including both Siena and Ben in the question.
‘Half a lager, please.’
‘I’ll get mine thanks,’ said Siena reaching into her handbag for her purse and following him to the bar.
‘I can stand you a drink.’ Jason scowled again.
Really, what was his problem? She’d never met anyone quite so grumpy.
‘I wasn’t worried about that.’ She smiled ultra-sweetly at him. What would it take to get him to crack a smile once in a while? ‘But I’d like champagne.’
‘Of course you would.’
She ignored his sarcastic tone. ‘And as they probably only sell it by the bottle, I’ll pay.’
It gave her a childish satisfaction when the barman responded to her before Jason who had waved first. ‘What champagnes do you have?’
After consulting the bar menu, she placed her order and handed over her American Express. Not a great selection, but the Lanson would do. The barman made a great show of filling the ice bucket and removing the foil and wire. With the explosive pop of the cork, he glanced at the machine terminal, his face darkened.
‘Sorry madam, your card’s been declined.’
Siena looked down at the card machine. ‘How annoying. C’est la vie. Try this one.’
She leaned on the Perspex bar, tracing the pattern of crystals. It really was very pretty. If it weren’t for keeping off the radar she would have put a photo on Snapchat to show her friends in Paris, although half of them had probably gone to Cannes this weekend.
‘That’s been declined too.’
‘Are you sure? That’s odd.’ She gave him a what-can-one-do smile. He looked a lot less friendly all of a sudden. ‘Do you want to try again? It’s never happened before.’
‘Did you tell your credit card companies you were popping over to England for the weekend? Maybe that’s why they’re not working,’ suggested Jason.
‘Don’t be silly.’ She patted his arm. ‘I was in New York last month, Whistler two months before that. I don’t need to tell them. I’m always travelling.’
‘To have one declined …’ His lips twitched.
She shot him a withering look.
‘I might be,’ she was going to use the word impetuous but paused, ‘spontaneous,’ that sounded better, ‘but I’m not careless. And yes I have read Oscar Wilde.’
Digging into her bag again, she pulled out her Credit Lyonnais debit card. ‘How about this?’
‘Not an English bank, so do you have your passport?’
How annoying, she’d only taken it out of her handbag five minutes before she left the house, thinking it would be safer left in the bedside drawer.
‘You do realise I’ve opened a seventy quid bottle of fizz that you can’t pay for.’ Goodbye customer service, hello pissed off barman. His earlier smiling obsequiousness had been replaced with sharp-eyed cynical scepticism.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She shrugged and rolled her eyes at him with a half-laugh. ‘Of course I can pay for it. Your card machine can’t be working properly. I’ve travelled all over the world and this has never happened before.’
‘It’s happened now.’
She opened her purse again. ‘Look, I’ve got euros. You can have those.’
The barman’s lip curled. ‘Do I look French? Does this place look like we’re in Spain? Does it say euros accepted here?’ He paused, lifting his chin with a pugnacious sneer. ‘No. It does not.’
He didn’t have to be quite so mean. ‘Look, it’s a genuine mistake. I can afford it, easily.’ For goodness sake, her stepfather owned a vineyard and estate outside Epernay and her monthly allowance would more than cover the cost of several cases of vintage Dom Perignon.
‘Doesn’t look like it from here.’
‘I’ve tried to pay. It’s not my fault nothing is working and you won’t accept euros or my bank card. I really don’t know what you expect me to do.’ Siena kept her tone low and reasonable, trying to ignore the curious glances and open stares being sent her way.
‘Obviously,’ the man’s voice had got much louder, as if he deliberately wanted to humiliate her, ‘I want you to pay up.’ He leaned over the bar towards her, his eyes sparkling with sudden malice. ‘Otherwise it’s going to have to be a police matter.’
Her heart rate rocketed. Her palms were suddenly clammy. She’d never been in this sort of situation before. His angry face reminded her of Yves when he didn’t get his own way.
‘Enough.’ Jason’s voice cut through with strident authority, making her jump. ‘She’s not exactly a hardened criminal and you are being unnecessarily unpleasant. Stick it on this card and while you’re at it, I’ll have a large glass of house red and a pint of Becks.’
The barman frowned and took Jason’s card, shooting Siena a look of disgust.
‘Thank you,’ she said letting out a huge breath, she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding on to. The relief was almost painful. ‘That’s really kind of you. I will pay you back. I promise.
‘I’m sure you will.’ He shook his head. ‘Prick.’
‘I suppose he had some right to be cross.’ Her legs felt slightly shaky.
‘He didn’t have to be such a dick about it or be so horrible. I hate bullies and I hate men that bully women even more. Are you OK?’ He studied her face with a penetrating look and she very nearly said, ‘You wouldn’t like Yves’.
Instead she nodded ducking her head, not wanting him to see her face.
His voiced softened and nearly finished her off. ‘Why don’t you go join the others, send Ben over and we’ll bring the drinks back?’
Giving him a tremulous smile, she did as he suggested.
It wasn’t until she’d almost finished the first glass of fizz, she started to felt more like herself again. Everyone else had loosened up too. The volume in the bar had increased five-fold since they’d arrived and it took considerable effort to wriggle through the crowd to get to the very plush toilets.
‘So Siena,’ Ben came and stood next to her, ‘Jason says you live in France. How come your English is so good?’
‘Because she’s English, you pillock,’ Jason ribbed him.
‘Are you?’
Siena nodded her head, amused by the relationship between them. ‘But I’ve lived in France since I was seven.’
‘What?’ Jason sounded startled. ‘But you’re Laurie’s sister. She grew up here. Went to school here. How does that work? ’
Siena shrugged. She’d rather not air the family laundry in front of an audience.
‘So say something in Frog,’ said Ben, completely oblivious to the nuances of the conversation. ‘It’s a real turn on when women talk foreign.’
Across the other side of the table, Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Only to a cretin.’
Ben ignored her. ‘Go on.’ He bounced in his seat, his enthusiasm infectious.
‘What do you want me to say?’ For some reason she felt self-conscious and Claire’s hostile stare wasn’t helping.
‘Anything. I dunno. Something like voulez-vous couchez maverick moi?’
‘That is French, you numpty.’ Claire’s scathing words spilled out.
‘I think you’ll find it’s avec moi,’ interjected Jason with a reluctant smile.
Siena sneaked a peak at him, it wasn’t the first time he’d taken the sting out of the other girl’s sharp observations.
‘Whatevs.’ With a good natured grin, Ben added, ‘Come on, speak some Froglish. Geddit? Because you’re half and half.’
‘Ben, grow up,’ snapped Claire. ‘You’re so stupid.’
‘Bonjour Ben. C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer,’ Siena blurted out, wanting to defuse the toxic atmosphere Claire seemed determined to create. Temptation shimmered like a naughty fairy for a second. It would be quite cool if she said in French, ‘stop being a bitch,’ but Siena had a feeling that with his probing looks, which seemed to see right through her, Jason would probably get the gist.
‘Phwoar. Say some more.’ Ben moaned in pretend delight completely oblivious to the other girl’s displeasure. ‘What’s it mean?’
Siena punched him on the shoulder laughing, as Jason shook his head and the others all burst into gales of laughter. Lisa giggled like a loon. Only Claire remained unamused. She tutted.
‘Ça ne veut rien dire en particulier,’ she obliged.
‘So, what are you saying? Something really sexy I bet. It had to be. Maybe I should learn French, pull the birds. I could get one of those lesson things on my iPod. Learn while I’m at work.’
‘Oh God, please don’t,’ said Jason with a heartfelt groan. ‘It’s bad enough when you’re murdering Coldplay with your headphones on.’
‘I could teach you,’ offered Siena.
‘Seriously?’ Ben bounced in his seat like an overenthusiastic puppy. ‘Couple of chat up lines? That would be so cool.’
‘She’s not going to be here long enough,’ said Jason.
‘No,’ said Claire with a derisory snort. ‘Besides she’d be in her eighties before you picked it up.’
Ben’s face crumpled for one swift second before a cheerful mask slid into place as he said to Jason, ‘So boss, what’s the plan for Monday?’
Embarrassed for him, Siena pulled out her phone on the pretext of checking it for messages. Scanning it quickly she stuffed it back into her handbag as a fresh conversation started up. More missed calls, all from the same two numbers. She couldn’t bring herself to even text them, knowing it would unleash a flurry of communication. Normally her iPhone never left her side but lately she wanted to bury it at the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t visit Facebook, go on Twitter, post on Snapchat or Periscope. Everyone was asking where she was, with some impertinent acquaintances drawing their own conclusions. No she wasn’t in Switzerland having a secret abortion nor on an exotic island in the Pacific with a well-known tennis pro and most definitely not in hiding after a botched eyelift.
Lisa let out a squeal. ‘And you’ve got a Prada handbag and purse. They must have been a gazillion euros.’ She reached out and touched them with reverence. ‘I bid on a Prada purse on eBay. Nearly got it for forty quid and then some bitch pipped me at the last second.’
‘Don’t you hate it when that happens?’ said Katie.
The conversation focused on eBay. Siena kept quiet, not wanting to volunteer that she’d never been on eBay in her life.
Chapter 4 (#u1b5b4751-0cd9-5de8-8ebe-cbad3a900911)
‘You’re sure?’ she asked for the second time.
‘Oui, Mademoiselle. We received the instruction from the account holder. I suggest you speak to them.’
‘And I can’t use the card?’
‘No, it has been cancelled. A new one will be issued to the account holder’s address.’
Siena shook her head. Not careless then. Both her cards had been cancelled. She’d known Maman would be angry at her leaving, especially when they were due out to dinner that evening, but not this angry. What had Yves been saying to her? He could be so convincing.
With resolute determination, she switched off her phone. She wasn’t going home. Not before Harry’s birthday. She had a plan and exactly a month to get everything lined up. In the meantime, she could easily survive on this month’s allowance. Admittedly she couldn’t buy a complete new wardrobe for spring, but she could make a start.
For a minute she stared out of the window. An idea popped into her head and grabbing the pad she always kept to hand, she quickly sketched a tall willowy figure and outlined the dress. Cowl neck. Mid length pencil skirt, with hem dropped at one side. Three-quarter-length sleeves. After ten minutes, she put the pad down.
She groaned out loud. It wasn’t right. What she saw in her head didn’t translate onto paper.
Which is why she needed so desperately to go to college. This week she’d arrange an appointment at the London School of Fashion. With her fashion knowledge and contacts in Paris it shouldn’t be too difficult to get accepted on one of their courses starting next year. Then she could go back and present Maman with a fait accompli. She was too young to get married yet.
In the meantime, she needed to find a bank and withdraw some sterling.
She grabbed the last clean towel from the guest stack – she’d have to ask Jason for some more – headed into the bathroom and ran smack into him.
Her mouth dried. Ça alors! With a white towel wrapped very, very low around his waist, dark hair dusting a mighty fine, firm chest and then tapering down there, he brought her to a dead stop. Her heart jumped in her chest, the irregular rhythm vibrating like a Mexican jumping bean. Last time he’d been half naked, she’d been too worried about her own nudity to take much in.
She took in a breath to steady herself. How ridiculous. She’d seen, almost seen, naked men before. She’d even slept with one or two. It wasn’t like she was some blushing virgin, although her experience was pretty limited. Before Yves, they had been lights off, fleeting encounters. Certainly never up, close and personal with a tank load of raw virility chucked in.
‘Seen enough?’ The initial irritation on his face, half covered in white shaving foam which accentuated his tanned skin, had given way to suppressed amusement.
‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you were in here.’
Almost mesmerised by his chest, she realised she’d clenched her hands tight to her sides, to stop her reaching up to touch the smooth skin. The cramped room meant there was very little room to manoeuvre with him standing in front of the sink.
‘I think we might need to establish some ground rules. Starting with not barging into the bathroom without knocking.’
‘You did it to me the other day.’
Jason did that double take thing, which wasn’t funny or clever, eyes bugging out in exaggerated disbelief. ‘You weren’t supposed to … Oh forget it. Ground rules. Don’t …’ his voice trailed away.
‘Seriously, you want to do this now?’ She put her hand on her hips. His eyes seemed to have gone a bit glassy. ‘Can’t it wait until I’ve had a shower and a coffee? I’ve spent the last twenty minutes on the phone to credit card companies.’
‘Good idea,’ his voice sounded suspiciously strangled and he turned his back on her, rather abruptly as if he’d definitely finished talking to her. How rude. What was wrong with him now?
With a sniff, she backed out of the bathroom, shutting the door with a bang, narrowly missing catching the hem of her nightie in … nom d’un chien! She looked down. She really needed to invest in some new nightwear.
Jason took a slug of milky coffee and leaned back against the draining board. Maybe he needed to go out and get laid; it had been a while since he’d had sex but Siena wandering around in that see-through thing wasn’t helping. At this rate, living with her, he was going to burst a blood vessel or set his stomach off again. Correct that. He wasn’t living with her. Her stay was strictly temporary and he needed to find out when she was going home. She couldn’t stay here; she’d drive him insane. Only one day and two nights and already she seemed to have spread a detritus of belongings about the house. Ankle boots, sexy high-heeled fuck-me numbers, now littered the hall. OK, so two pairs, but that was still two pairs too many. A scarf draped over the banister might not be much, but it was the start of things. Like the leather jacket slung over the back of the chair opposite him. As for the bathroom, he was surprised he could still get in there. A lorry load of Clarins products had staked their claim along every available surface. He liked things tidy. In their place. He liked … the image of her exquisitely perfect body popped into his head. Only two days and he’d already seen far too much of that too. He didn’t seem to be able to dislodge the image from the loop in his head.
‘Morning.’
