Free The Train to Paris by Sebastian Hampson

‘If you must know, I saw you looking at a bottle of it at the bar. Wistfully.’
    â€˜I don’t believe that. Where did you gain these powers of observation, Lawrence? They could be put to much better use.’
    This time I insisted on tasting the wine. I did not make a fool of myself. She watched me smugly as I swirled the glass and sniffed just as she had.
    The courses continued to be delivered, and Élodie picked at her food while I made sure to eat it all. She did not want to linger in the restaurant after the third dessert course, and she left a paltry tip.
    â€˜I want to find Ed again,’ she said. ‘He is always up for a good time. I could do with some fun now.’
    â€˜I’m not enough fun for you?’
    She surveyed me as though she were a performance assessor, and I her hapless employee.
    â€˜No,’ she said. ‘You may be many things, Lawrence, but you are not much fun.’
    She went to return indoors, and I followed hesitantly. It felt like a bizarre old-fashioned farce, where I was a fusty chaperone pursuing my lady around the grounds of a dangerous social gathering. She was heading for the reception desk, and I ran to catch up with her, even though she was the one wearing high heels. She asked the concierge to connect her to Selvin’s room.
    â€˜Ed, darling,’ she said into the telephone. I changed my assessment: she did sound drunk. ‘Do come down here. I don’t care what you’re doing. It’s damned antisocial. Join us for another drink.’ He said something in response to this, and she shrieked with laughter. ‘Oh Ed, you naughty man. I know exactly what you mean. No, that will come later. I’m not as impatient as you are, and he certainly isn’t. Come downstairs, you dirty old man. We’re waiting for you in the bar.’
    The concierge tried to hide his amusement. He too could have seen Élodie before. She must have left the same imprint on everybody. Hanging up the phone, she beckoned for me to follow her through to the bar, which was quieter than before. It was becoming dark outside, and guests were heading to dinner after their aperitifs.
    â€˜If only this hotel had a casino,’ she said, having ordered yet another Campari and soda. I asked for iced water this time. ‘Then we could really have some fun. Say, there’s an idea. Why don’t we go to the one down the road?’
    â€˜So now you want to gamble your husband’s money?’
    â€˜Why not? I have nothing to lose.’
    â€˜That’s not a good idea, Élodie. You could end up in trouble.’
    â€˜I could. One day you will learn to appreciate the joys of danger.’
    The alcohol should have induced a sense of euphoria, but I was not feeling it. I wondered if what it gave to one person it took away from another. Élodie was becoming my responsibility, and this made me anxious. A few hours ago she had been an image of adulthood, and now she was a pouting child. I was dreading another confrontation with Selvin.
    â€˜You’re so tense, boy,’ Élodie observed. At least she had quietened down. ‘Why don’t you have another drink? It might help you get on with Ed a little better.’
    I didn’t want to get on with Ed a little better. I wanted to tell Élodie that she was being unkind, and that I would rather go up to the suite, while she hung off the bar and drank with Ed. She reached out to take her drink from the barman, and I noticed the underside of her arm again. There were a few hairs in the sphere of her armpit that she must have missed. I imagined her putting that arm around me and pulling me closer, pushing her breasts up to me. And then I imagined her doing the same thing with Ed, and I decided that I needed to stay because I did not want him to take her from me.
    I ordered another daiquirí. It was a different barman. The other one had disappeared. Perhaps his shift had ended, and he was