said Germaine.
‘Nothing to worry about. And then we’ll put her on the train on Monday morning. That way she’ll be taken care of.’
‘What do you think, Nadine?’
‘I think it’s very kind of Tyler, and—what did you say your name was? What did he call you? Noddy?’
‘Edward,’ said Harrison firmly. ‘My name is Edward.’
‘Then that’s settled.’
‘You’re sure, Nadine? After all, it means imposing on these friends of Tyler. Of Tyler’s parents.’
‘I am quite reassured to know that Maud will not be alone in Paris. After all, the times have been so unsettled.’
‘But this is 1971, Madame. You need have no fears on that score.’
She smiled at him. ‘And now I should like to offer an invitation. I should like to take us all out to dinner tomorrow night, to say thank you to Germaine, and to thank her not only for her hospitality but for a most enjoyable holiday. Where do you recommend, Germaine?’
‘Well, they say the Anneau d’Or in Meaux is quite excellent, but really, Nadine, there is no need …’
‘There is no need, but, I’m sure, every wish.’
She smiled triumphantly at her sister, surprised a smile onMaud’s face, she who never smiled. Harrison—how simple he was, she thought again—smiled as happily as a boy. Tyler did not smile but stood behind his hostess’s chair. When she stood up and turned round to thank him he took her hand and kissed it.
All went to bed quite happy that night.
SEVEN
H ARRISON DID NOT IMMEDIATELY ENQUIRE HOW TYLER had prevailed upon the concierge to open all the doors in the flat, which was now revealed as agreeable and even welcoming, in sharp contrast to the archaic bedroom to which he had earlier been consigned. He particularly appreciated the salon, with its yellow walls and carpets, its two navy blue sofas, its glass coffee table, and its
faux-naif
pictures of cows in sunlit pastures on the walls—an interior decorator’s touch, he deduced, and bethought himself fleetingly of the red brick building in which he had so hastily rented a flat. Instantly he decided to move from there, to put down roots, to exert his claim to pale walls and carpets, and to say goodbye for ever to makeshifts, to sharing, to discomfort.
He even looked forward to putting down roots in the rue Laugier now that he had been rescued from loneliness. He reckoned he might stay another two or three weeks, or untilthese Vermeulens let it be known, via the concierge, that they were about to return. He was, after all, owed something in the nature of a final holiday before taking up the burden of his adult life. Moreover there was something attractive in the prospect of spending days in the company of Tyler and Maud, three being a more propitious number than two for his immediate purpose, which was to drift in their wake, like a child with his parents, not having to speak or even to listen, but simply to stroll dreamily ten paces behind them, and thus free to enjoy the sights and sounds of Paris without that obligation to be constantly on the alert which destroys pleasure.
‘Which room shall I have?’ he asked, heaving his bag into the salon. It seemed, as always, natural to ask this of Tyler. Maud too, he noted, waited respectfully for him to pronounce.
Tyler ran his fingers through his black hair, which was growing rather long. He had caught the sun at La Gaillarderie and was now brown down to the opening of his shirt which he wore carelessly, as he wore all his clothes, but with an elegance which Harrison knew he could never master. He regretted his tie, his blazer, his lace-up shoes, all relics of an earlier life which should have been left behind long ago. He might ask Tyler to accompany him to the shops or perhaps advise him in some way: no, the idea was instantly repugnant. He would just have to keep a weather eye open for that exact colour of blue Oxford cloth, and that type of cream cotton trouser. In the meantime his blazer and flannels would have to do.
‘Nothing to worry about. And then we’ll put her on the train on Monday morning. That way she’ll be taken care of.’
‘What do you think, Nadine?’
‘I think it’s very kind of Tyler, and—what did you say your name was? What did he call you? Noddy?’
‘Edward,’ said Harrison firmly. ‘My name is Edward.’
‘Then that’s settled.’
‘You’re sure, Nadine? After all, it means imposing on these friends of Tyler. Of Tyler’s parents.’
‘I am quite reassured to know that Maud will not be alone in Paris. After all, the times have been so unsettled.’
‘But this is 1971, Madame. You need have no fears on that score.’
She smiled at him. ‘And now I should like to offer an invitation. I should like to take us all out to dinner tomorrow night, to say thank you to Germaine, and to thank her not only for her hospitality but for a most enjoyable holiday. Where do you recommend, Germaine?’
‘Well, they say the Anneau d’Or in Meaux is quite excellent, but really, Nadine, there is no need …’
‘There is no need, but, I’m sure, every wish.’
She smiled triumphantly at her sister, surprised a smile onMaud’s face, she who never smiled. Harrison—how simple he was, she thought again—smiled as happily as a boy. Tyler did not smile but stood behind his hostess’s chair. When she stood up and turned round to thank him he took her hand and kissed it.
All went to bed quite happy that night.
SEVEN
H ARRISON DID NOT IMMEDIATELY ENQUIRE HOW TYLER had prevailed upon the concierge to open all the doors in the flat, which was now revealed as agreeable and even welcoming, in sharp contrast to the archaic bedroom to which he had earlier been consigned. He particularly appreciated the salon, with its yellow walls and carpets, its two navy blue sofas, its glass coffee table, and its
faux-naif
pictures of cows in sunlit pastures on the walls—an interior decorator’s touch, he deduced, and bethought himself fleetingly of the red brick building in which he had so hastily rented a flat. Instantly he decided to move from there, to put down roots, to exert his claim to pale walls and carpets, and to say goodbye for ever to makeshifts, to sharing, to discomfort.
He even looked forward to putting down roots in the rue Laugier now that he had been rescued from loneliness. He reckoned he might stay another two or three weeks, or untilthese Vermeulens let it be known, via the concierge, that they were about to return. He was, after all, owed something in the nature of a final holiday before taking up the burden of his adult life. Moreover there was something attractive in the prospect of spending days in the company of Tyler and Maud, three being a more propitious number than two for his immediate purpose, which was to drift in their wake, like a child with his parents, not having to speak or even to listen, but simply to stroll dreamily ten paces behind them, and thus free to enjoy the sights and sounds of Paris without that obligation to be constantly on the alert which destroys pleasure.
‘Which room shall I have?’ he asked, heaving his bag into the salon. It seemed, as always, natural to ask this of Tyler. Maud too, he noted, waited respectfully for him to pronounce.
Tyler ran his fingers through his black hair, which was growing rather long. He had caught the sun at La Gaillarderie and was now brown down to the opening of his shirt which he wore carelessly, as he wore all his clothes, but with an elegance which Harrison knew he could never master. He regretted his tie, his blazer, his lace-up shoes, all relics of an earlier life which should have been left behind long ago. He might ask Tyler to accompany him to the shops or perhaps advise him in some way: no, the idea was instantly repugnant. He would just have to keep a weather eye open for that exact colour of blue Oxford cloth, and that type of cream cotton trouser. In the meantime his blazer and flannels would have to do.
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