From Paris With Love (34 page)

‘Is this Joe really a private investigator?’ she murmured.

Our lips were sealed.

‘
Bon
, I don’t need to know…’ She shook her head. ‘The gun…’ her voice wobbled. ‘It belonged to my father – he took it from one of his bodyguards, to protect us at home. He is an important member of the National Front party and as such regularly received death threats when I was little.’

‘But why have you got it, now?’ I asked.

‘
Maman
…towards the end, I suspected she might try to take her own life. I found this gun in her underwear drawer, one day – she must have taken it from my father, just before the divorce. All these years later I was worried she might use it…’ Monique bit her lip. ‘As it was, she chose a bottle of vodka and packets of pills.’

‘But what about the money? You kept hinting that after today you’d be financially better off.’

‘So, you thought I was being paid to do an assassination…’ A muscle in her neck flinched. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. If you must know, a good journalist friend filmed the whole thing from his helicopter and is giving me the tape. If you tell YouTube you want to earn money from your video, they put adverts at the beginning – I shall hurry home to upload it and am sure many will watch it, especially as the royal couple were there. So you see… I am not a monster. Just a woman trying to support herself and her little sister.’

My cheeks flushed.

‘Although I can see why you might have thought the worst of me…’ she said and took Blade’s hand. ‘Why don’t you tell Gemma the truth?’

Huh? More secrets? Something between her and my rockstar friend?’

He shook his head. ‘
Non
. There is no point. Leave it, Monique.’ He stood up and gave me a crooked smile. ‘
Au revoir
, dear Gemma. You will not see me again.’

Chapter 30

“
Edward is here, packing before the farewell party. Come to my flat immediately. It is to do with our mutual ami, Blade
.”

I stood outside the green door of Monique’s apartment block, once again staring at the text she had sent me, this morning. I’d texted back, hoping for more information, but nothing… Who did she think she was, summoning me like that?

Although to my huge annoyance, after chatting to her yesterday afternoon, following the charity match, I was beginning to like her. She’d stared at me sympathetically after Blade had left, but could offer no explanation for his dramatic departure. Then we shared a camembert baguette and she talked to me about how long she’d been organising the flash mob dance. If anything, she should have been spitting at our suspicions and the break-in to her flat. Plus when Joe arrived, to take me away to make a statement, she instinctively knew not to pry. Perhaps that’s what came from growing up with a dad in politics.

Whatever the reason, I began to see why she and Edward had become good friends – not just because of her dignity, sophistication and annoyingly cool dress sense… No, she was warm, loyal, dedicated, and her chest swelled when she talked of how well her sister was doing at university.

By the end of the afternoon she was even laughing at me bouncing off a trampoline, over a fence, with one of her somersaulting dancer friends following me. Monique had used English terms such as “mob” because a good number of the dancers were international students and she didn’t want the project to have an exclusively French feel. Monique intended to have firm words with her bearded friend who cornered me in that public toilet. She explained that secrecy was paramount for a successful flash mob, and that after weeks of rehearsal, he’d become particularly paranoid.

So yeah, she was okay – although we’d steered around the subject of Edward. Butterflies stirred in my stomach as I pressed the buzzer for Monique’s flat, hoping I wouldn’t catch them snogging. A few moments later the front door to the building clicked open. I went up one flight of steps and stood outside number fourteen. I knocked and waited.

The door swung open and Edward stood there, honey curls shining from sunrays shooting through a nearby window, inside. He wore a beige shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and navy chinos. My heart pumped. Despite everything, I still longed to kiss him and run my hands down his strong back.

‘Gemma? What are you doing here? What’s happened to your face?’

‘Um, can I come in? It’s about a text I got from Monique.’ I rubbed my cheek. ‘Oh, um nothing – I walked into a lamppost.’

‘Right, um, well, of course… Although the place is a mess… We’re both packing, you see…’ He stood back to let me in and I headed past the kitchen area, towards the living room.

Wow. Messy or not, nice place – classy but understated, of course, with shelves of books and a couple of beanbags. A dreamcatcher hung at a window and in the kitchenette was a cute row of potted herbs. Clothes hung over the sofa and on a small dining room table lay Edward’s suitcase.

Monique must have been in the bedroom and I was just about to ask Edward to fetch her, when I took a double-take at some items on a beanbag.

I swallowed. It was Blade’s black leather jacket and several silver cross and skull necklaces. Why would his clothes be here…? Oh my God.

‘I’ve been so stupid!’ I said and pointed to the jacket, mentally taking back all the good things I’d thought about Monique. ‘You… Blade… Both of you have been bewitched by Monique. Has he been living here as well? Been having threesomes, have you? Laughing at me, behind my back? No wonder he’s been upset this week – it’s no doubt due to Monique leaving for England.’ My eyes felt wet. ‘Why did she invite me here today? To make me feel bad, just when she and I were getting on?’ Confused, I looked around. ‘Blade! Where are you? Come on out.’

‘Gemma! Slow down! It’s not what you think.’ His eyes flashed. ‘Moni had no right to invite you over this morning. It’s obvious that she was hoping this would happen.’

I was going to ask what on earth he was going on about, when something on the sofa caught my eye. Feeling giddy, I walked over, sat down and picked up a spiky black wig.

Next to it was black eyeliner, and a glass box containing… inky black contact lenses. Wow. Blade must look really different without all this paraphernalia on.

‘I… thought his black hair was real. What’s his actual eye colour?’ I asked.

By now Monique had appeared at the bedroom door. ‘Blue – with small green specks in,’ she answered. ‘And his hair is blonde.’

I stared from her to Edward… The room span…. What? No! Never! ‘Are you saying…? But Blade is –was – way taller than Edward.’

‘Moni!’ said Edward and scowled. She ignored him, came over and picked up Blade’s scuffed boots.

‘These were borrowed from an actor friend of mine who isn’t as tall as he’d like. There are lifts inside.’

My chest tightened.

‘All this time, my rockstar friend was
you
, Edward?’ I felt dizzy. ‘But why?’

Monique disappeared back into the bedroom as he sat next to me. ‘It was the only way I could try to persuade you to change your mind – about us.’

I snorted. ‘What, by trying to get me to fall in love with another guy? Not that I did,’ I added quickly.

‘I hoped that if you got on with Blade, you’d realise that the most opposite people could work well together; that our different interests didn’t matter. That the sizzling chemistry between us was still there….But you made it quite plain this week that a reunion would never be possible.’

‘You mean, at the garlic chicken meal at mine on Tuesday, when Joe had to dash off to his client?’

Edward nodded.

‘You tried to tell me something, didn’t you? Was it that you were really Blade?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why you’ve been in a funny mood this week – you and Blade – cos I declared
nothing
you said would make a difference.’ I bit my lip, thinking back to Blade’s cryptic comment about doing his best to fight for “us”.

‘No wonder he announced a sudden tour – you’d be back in England.’ I gazed at Edward. This explained why his heavy metal counterpart had always acted like the perfect gentleman – the way he always wiped his mouth with a napkin and how he’d pulled away the first time we almost kissed, after visiting the Eiffel Tower. How he never pushed for us to actually sleep together, in case he was taking advantage… I shook my head. Duh, and come to think of it, I’d never seen Edward and Blade in the same room. No wonder “Blade” couldn’t make the meal at mine last Tuesday, seeing as Edward was there. How could I have not guessed all this before?

I stared hard at Edward’s face, imagining him with eyeliner on and dark eyes. Of course! The charade was obvious now. Yet because of Blade’s height and French accent, I never suspected a thing…

‘So that day at the flea market, when you rushed off – there wasn’t really a meeting with a bar manager was there? You had to quickly change and then, as Edward, visit the Seine with Monique?’

‘Yes. At times it was tricky, leading the lives of two men.’

I shook my head. ‘No wonder Joe couldn’t find any trace of Blade’s identity…’ I thought back over recent days… ‘That’s why the stallholder at the flea market couldn’t understand your French either when we bought that harissa sauce… And you didn’t reveal any gossip about Ozzy Osbourne because you’d never really met him.’ I shook my head. It was beginning to make sense, as I recalled the way “Blade” had raved about the Eiffel Tower – one of
Edward
’s favourite landmarks.

‘But why did you dislike Joe so much, if Black Bijou didn’t exist anyway? It was no slight to you, seeing as the band was made up.’

‘Oh Gem… Can’t you guess? I was jealous – jealous of the sudden appearance of this new man in your life. Particularly one so confident, who spent hours in the gym… So I understand why at first you thought, wrongly, that Monique was some sort of rival. You must have experienced the same, green-eyed feelings.’

‘But since we broke up, you’ve been civil – never pleaded with me to come back… Acted all excited about your journalism career… Seemed to be easily moving on with your life – until the meal last Tuesday…’

‘But inside I felt as if my heart had shattered into pieces, shards of it slicing through my lungs, through my chest, every time I saw you. And us Croxleys don’t plead… plus you know me by now, and my habit of donning the proverbial glass half full, stiff upper lip. I refused to believe that we wouldn’t, at some point, reunite. So, challenging as it was, I just got on with my daily life – although I
am
genuinely excited about my writing prospects…’

I swallowed. Yes. This all made sense. Edward putting on a dignified brave face – that had always been a strong feature of his life. Like when his mother got cancer – like when he carried the burden of saving Applebridge Hall…

I stared at him. ‘So what happened when Joe bundled you into the car and took you off for interrogation?’ My mouth fell open. ‘Oh my God – you told him the truth, didn’t you? That you were Edward…And Joe agreed to help you continue the charade.’

Edward looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Yes. Faced with the prospect of a tortuous interrogation, I didn’t have much choice. It just goes to prove that Joe really is a romantic deep down – he understood why I had to pretend to be Blade. And you getting the date of Blade’s birthday, Bastille Day, wrong, made it sound believable as to why he no longer suspected me.’

I shook my head. ‘I remember at the jazz club, being surprised that you and Joe didn’t discuss your love of heavy metal. But, of course, by then he knew you weren’t even a fan, so you both chatted about international politics instead…’ Lots of little things slowly began to fall into place. Like when I bit Blade’s hand, the night he chased me, and his instinct had been to swear in English, not French.

I shook my head. ‘It feels like a betrayal – all that time you spent with me, pretending to be someone else. I feel so stupid. The way Blade and I almost kissed… The deep chats we had…’ My voice wavered. ‘And yet you are too much of a gentleman to defend yourself by saying the obvious.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘That’s exactly how you must have felt, last year, when I revealed I wasn’t your cousin Abbey. What a shock for you. But I did it with the best intentions… As no doubt you did, when pretending to be a rockstar.’

Edward took my hand. ‘Gem – you know I hate lying, but this was the only way I could prove to you that we have something real and special between us. It’s made me realise just what you went through, last year, pretending to be Abbey. So many times I wanted to pull of that wig and shout that the man you were having a good time with was really me. And…’ His voice softened. ‘I really did love Disneyland Paris that second time – although I was worried my wig might fly off on Space Mountain.’

‘And I thought you were placing your hands on your head to show off, being brave…’ I gave a wry smile. ‘I still hate opera, you know,’ I murmured.

‘So what? You were considering dating a heavy metal singer. Doesn’t that prove that our love can overcome all sorts of obstacles?’

I couldn’t take it all in. ‘But what about the band’s fan, in the Silver Spur Restaurant, who wanted your autograph?’

Edward cleared his throat. ‘It was a set-up, I’m afraid. Monique missed a trip to Versailles with me to arrange everything. Remember I was keen to go to that particular place to eat? She was one of Monique’s friends, waiting for us. The music magazine was put together by Moni and a photographer friend. Joe was right – it doesn’t really exist.’

‘How on earth did you come up with this whole charade? Even the way Blade walked was nothing like you.’

Edward called Monique back in.

‘It was Moni,’ he said. ‘Her idea. She gave me a couple of days’ intense training in how to speak and move differently – all the acting lessons she’s had over the years came in terribly useful.’

I gasped. ‘Monique? But when we first arrived she was determined to split us up and date you herself.’

Monique leant against the back of the sofa and blushed. ‘Please forgive me, Gemma. I… just saw red, as you English say… The first time I saw you.’

‘Why?’ I shook my head.