The Train to Paris by Sebastian Hampson Read Free Book Online Page A

Élodie. ‘We need to have a word later,’ he said. He did not intend for me to hear.
    â€˜I agree,’ she said. ‘We should. How long are you here for?’
    Selvin positioned himself so that I would be unable to hear his reply. I was surprised that he could speak at such a low volume, when he had been so loud and energetic. Despite my curiosity it felt impolite to listen in, so I directed my attention to the nameless woman. She was attractive in a more conventional way than Élodie. Her hair was golden and clashed with her fake tan. She was not European. I could tell how uneasy she was in her lavish surroundings. This French decadence was an alien concept, even newer for her than it was for me. I was about to introduce myself, but I thought that this might be rude. I presumed there was a reason she had not been introduced and I struggled to guess what it could be.
    I turned back and watched Élodie. She was animated and enthusiastic with Selvin, but her eyes were hollow. It was impossible to tell whether she was relaxed or uneasy. She leant away from me, making Selvin her sole objective. She drew her feet up off the floor, her shoes gleaming in the light. They must have been uncomfortable, with their high-arched curves and tight fastenings.
    A waiter brought over plates of olives and cheeses, for which I was glad. It gave me something to do. I thanked him, while Selvin and Élodie ignored both him and the food. Then Selvin took a call on his mobile phone, and wandered over to a dark corner of the bar, putting a finger to his ear to block out the noise.
    â€˜I must say,’ Élodie said to me, ‘I refuse to be chained to a phone. Fewer intrusions.’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. ‘Although it might have helped me today.’
    Both Ethan and Sophie would be wondering where I had got to. Sophie liked to talk often, even from the other side of the world, and it was liberating to think that we were truly out of contact for the first time. But I pushed this thought away.
    â€˜You don’t have a mobile phone?’ she said. ‘Goodness. I thought that everybody your age had one.’
    â€˜I must be the exception. I know, it’s old-fashioned, but it keeps things simpler.’
    â€˜There is nothing wrong with being old-fashioned.’
    When Selvin returned he drained the whisky glass of its last amber drop and set it down so heavily that the table shook.
    â€˜Vanessa and I need to go find some dinner,’ he said, taking his newly named companion by the arm. ‘Hope you don’t mind. We’ll see you later, I’m sure.’
    â€˜Not at all,’ Élodie said, betraying a certain disappointment. ‘It’s not a bit early for dinner?’
    â€˜No, it isn’t.’
    Vanessa had not finished her drink. He held her around the middle, which was awkward due to his girth.
    I waited until they had cleared the bar before rounding on Élodie.
    â€˜Who is he ?’ I asked, thinking that in some ways the answer was less important than the question.
    â€˜An old friend,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where he found his wealth. Just one of those fellows who was born poor and decided to make himself rich. He’s fun, isn’t he?’
    â€˜If that’s how you define fun. How did you meet?’
    â€˜Years ago. He has something to do with film. It was a party in Cannes. We danced on the beach. But that was another lifetime. He’s changed, I’ve changed.’
    â€˜You could always dance on the beach with him here. I’m sure he’s more your equal.’
    I must have sounded more woeful than I had intended, because she became mockingly sympathetic.
    â€˜Oh Lawrence. I only want to dance on the beach with you. There, is that better? Those clothes become you, by the way. You are doing well, boy.’
    â€˜Please don’t call me that.’
    â€˜What? Boy ? I will if you stop acting like one.’
    I