glamorous clientele, mostly English and American, through a golden haze of champagne. ‘I don’t come here often,’ he whispered. ‘Tonight is a treat for us both.’
In a cosy back-street restaurant nearby, where the walls were hung with scenes of Paris nightlife, they ate
sole meunière
by candlelight. A gypsy violinist came to serenade them, but sensing Kitty’s bashfulness, Gene gave him some coins to go away.
Kitty was touched that Gene seemed to want to know all about her. She told him how she was an orphan and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be part of a proper family, as he was. She was here, she said, because her uncle wanted so much for her to do well, but she was worried about leaving him alone. ‘What about you?’ she asked Gene, curious. ‘Why did you come so far from home to train in Paris?’
‘My grandma on my mother’s side was French,’ he explained as they ate. ‘I came here to stay with her once or twice and sort of fell into the place, like I was born here. You need to walk down a main street in Alabama to appreciate what I’m saying. Here folks are discreet, don’t interfere in one another’s business so much. Not that I’ve anything to hide, you understand.’ He gave one of those friendly smiles she was quickly learning was a part of him.
‘I’ve not found it easy to get to know people here,’ Kitty confessed. ‘They speak so quickly, that’s part of the trouble. I should try harder, I suppose.’
‘Do you know, I saw you at the cathedral,’ he said quietly, between mouthfuls. ‘A couple of weeks back.’
‘Did you?’ she said in surprise. ‘I didn’t see you.’
‘You looked a little lonely. I’d have come across and said hello, but you ran off before I had a chance.’
‘Everybody seemed to know one another – it was like a big party for that pretty baby. I’m ashamed to say I funked it.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, we all do that sometimes.’
‘I don’t believe that you would.’
‘I can assure you that you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘Though perhaps I wouldn’t tell that to any patient of mine.’ And she smiled up at him.
A waiter came to refill their glasses with red wine.
‘It’s such a coincidence the way you found me,’ she said, and was genuinely surprised when he turned bashful.
‘All right, I’ll have to admit it. It wasn’t exactly luck.’ And he told her how he’d followed her from the cathedral out of concern, that he’d passed the spot where he’d last seen her several times since that Sunday, for he still attended the odd lecture at the École de Médecine and anyway was working out his notice on an apartment near the Panthéon. It was easy for him to walk near where he’d last seen her.
‘I suppose I should feel flattered that you went to so much trouble,’ she said, but he heard the disapproval in her voice.
‘Now, darn it, I’ve offended you. I should have kept my big mouth shut.’
‘No, I’m not offended,’ she said in a soft voice, her fingers stroking the stem of her glass. She looked up to meet his steady gaze and couldn’t help smiling. His was a face of such honesty and friendliness it was difficult to believe he would ever do anything underhand. Slowly he smiled back at her and his eyes lit up. Soon they were both laughing.
She’d been in love, really in love, once before, painfully and hopelessly, with the headmaster’s son, a golden-haired athletic boy a year or two older, whose eyes had never even rested on the quiet seventeen-year-old girl who came to tea sometimes with her uncle. But nobody had ever warned her that love could spring up as suddenly as this. That two people could see instantly that all they needed was there in the other.
‘Come on,’ he said, breaking the spell. ‘I promised you jazz, and you shall have it.’
A cab dropped them in Montmartre where the steps up to Sacré-Coeur gleamed in the moonlight. Kitty took Gene’s arm and they walked together down a steep side
In a cosy back-street restaurant nearby, where the walls were hung with scenes of Paris nightlife, they ate
sole meunière
by candlelight. A gypsy violinist came to serenade them, but sensing Kitty’s bashfulness, Gene gave him some coins to go away.
Kitty was touched that Gene seemed to want to know all about her. She told him how she was an orphan and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be part of a proper family, as he was. She was here, she said, because her uncle wanted so much for her to do well, but she was worried about leaving him alone. ‘What about you?’ she asked Gene, curious. ‘Why did you come so far from home to train in Paris?’
‘My grandma on my mother’s side was French,’ he explained as they ate. ‘I came here to stay with her once or twice and sort of fell into the place, like I was born here. You need to walk down a main street in Alabama to appreciate what I’m saying. Here folks are discreet, don’t interfere in one another’s business so much. Not that I’ve anything to hide, you understand.’ He gave one of those friendly smiles she was quickly learning was a part of him.
‘I’ve not found it easy to get to know people here,’ Kitty confessed. ‘They speak so quickly, that’s part of the trouble. I should try harder, I suppose.’
‘Do you know, I saw you at the cathedral,’ he said quietly, between mouthfuls. ‘A couple of weeks back.’
‘Did you?’ she said in surprise. ‘I didn’t see you.’
‘You looked a little lonely. I’d have come across and said hello, but you ran off before I had a chance.’
‘Everybody seemed to know one another – it was like a big party for that pretty baby. I’m ashamed to say I funked it.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, we all do that sometimes.’
‘I don’t believe that you would.’
‘I can assure you that you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘Though perhaps I wouldn’t tell that to any patient of mine.’ And she smiled up at him.
A waiter came to refill their glasses with red wine.
‘It’s such a coincidence the way you found me,’ she said, and was genuinely surprised when he turned bashful.
‘All right, I’ll have to admit it. It wasn’t exactly luck.’ And he told her how he’d followed her from the cathedral out of concern, that he’d passed the spot where he’d last seen her several times since that Sunday, for he still attended the odd lecture at the École de Médecine and anyway was working out his notice on an apartment near the Panthéon. It was easy for him to walk near where he’d last seen her.
‘I suppose I should feel flattered that you went to so much trouble,’ she said, but he heard the disapproval in her voice.
‘Now, darn it, I’ve offended you. I should have kept my big mouth shut.’
‘No, I’m not offended,’ she said in a soft voice, her fingers stroking the stem of her glass. She looked up to meet his steady gaze and couldn’t help smiling. His was a face of such honesty and friendliness it was difficult to believe he would ever do anything underhand. Slowly he smiled back at her and his eyes lit up. Soon they were both laughing.
She’d been in love, really in love, once before, painfully and hopelessly, with the headmaster’s son, a golden-haired athletic boy a year or two older, whose eyes had never even rested on the quiet seventeen-year-old girl who came to tea sometimes with her uncle. But nobody had ever warned her that love could spring up as suddenly as this. That two people could see instantly that all they needed was there in the other.
‘Come on,’ he said, breaking the spell. ‘I promised you jazz, and you shall have it.’
A cab dropped them in Montmartre where the steps up to Sacré-Coeur gleamed in the moonlight. Kitty took Gene’s arm and they walked together down a steep side
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