4. Put on weight
5. Get drunk again
6. Make number 5 number 4
7. Climb the Eiffel Tower and kiss a random man at the top of it
8. Get surgery – the three Bs – boobs, bum and belly
9. Grow real eyebrows
Ava couldn’t read any more. Her eighteen-year-old-self sounded unhinged. She took a long suck of the cocktail in front of her. She wasn’t sure what it was but it contained a cherry and a glittery angel on a stick, a real holly leaf attached. She turned the paper over and looked at Debs.
Debs was hunched over a notepad, scribbling away, earrings still flashing, making satisfied noises as pen hit paper. Ava didn’t even know where to begin. Her gaze went around the hotel bar. With its wide, black-and-gold Christmas tree in one corner, beautifully wrapped gifts stacked underneath like they were waiting for a child to unwrap them, and a roaring log fire beneath a marble mantelpiece, it was the perfect pre-Christmas scene. She settled herself back into the chair. She needed to relax. She was here in France with her best friend in a city she truly loved. She just needed to forget that the last time she came here was with Leo in the spring and he’d told her he loved her. More lies. She sat forward again, refocussed on Debs.
‘What have you put?’ Ava asked.
Debs pulled her paper towards her like she was protecting a government secret. ‘I can’t show you yet.’ Debs’ eyes went to the blank piece of paper and reindeer-shaped pen she’d given Ava. ‘Why aren’t you writing?’
Ava shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to write.’
‘But, we’re in Paris,’ Debs emphasised. ‘There must be things you want to do here.’
‘I only knew I was coming here a few days ago. I suppose I just thought I’d do whatever you were doing.’
‘And that’s what needs to stop,’ Debs said forcefully.
‘What?’
‘You not doing what you want to do.’
‘I do what I want to do. I did this to my hair, remember?’ Ava pulled at a lock of white to emphasise the point.
‘But you did that because you were upset. And you took the job selling apartments just because your mother wanted you to audition for a tinned meatballs commercial and you needed an excuse.’ Debs huffed. ‘You shouldn’t need an excuse. I know it’s hard but you just need to tell her, once and for all, you’re not interested.’
It was easy to say and Ava knew that’s what she should be doing but it was a lot harder to put it into practice.
‘That wasn’t why I took the job,’ she said quickly.
‘No?’ Debs looked unconvinced.
‘No,’ Ava said, a little overdramatically. ‘I took the job because I’ve always wanted to sell luxury apartments.’ Her mouth struggled to make the words sound anything close to sincere. ‘You know what, if you want me to make a list, fine, I’ll make a list.’ Ava grabbed the reindeer pen and started to write.
‘1. Get drunk?!’ Debs exclaimed. ‘No! Don’t copy the other one!’
‘Why not? Why do I have to have plans and dreams and know what direction I’m going in?’ Ava asked. ‘We’re not all the same, you know. We don’t all have to have a job we love, travelling to exciting cities and writing about them, with parents who love us, and a great house with neighbours who bring round homemade wine.’
The second she got to the end of the sentence, probably before, she realised she hadn’t wanted to say any of those things and she sounded like a complete idiot.
What was worse was when she looked back over at Debs and saw her friend’s bottom lip wobbling, tears ready to spill like a melting glacier.
A stab of guilt hit her square in the chest. Why was she taking all this out on Debs?
‘Oh, God, I’m horrible,’ Ava announced. ‘Truly horrible.’ She looked around for something to pass to Debs – serviettes, a beer mat. She settled on the map she had picked up at Gare Du Nord. ‘Here, blow your nose on the Metro then tell me what’s going on.’
Debs took the offering and dabbed at her nose with the shiny paper, shaking her abundance of hair. ‘I can’t.’
‘You can’t, what? Tell your absolute best friend in the world what’s making you cry? I’m the one person you can tell.’ Ava swallowed then whispered. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘No,’ Debs replied, wiping her eyes on a photo of Versailles.
She was now so worried she really didn’t want to ask the next question. ‘You’re not ill are you?’
‘No,’ Debs blubbered.
‘Well, is it work?’ Ava asked.
Debs moved her head in neither a nod nor a shake, but the expression on her face told a tale. Ava had only seen the look once before. When Debs’ parents had split up. Sue and Jon had divorced less than a year after Ava’s parents had split. For weeks back then there had been days and nights of boxes of Kleenex, comfort eating and almost stalkerish watching of every Johnny Depp film ever made – Debs had poured her heart out, Ava had poured the Diet Coke out, held her and told her everything was going to be all right... eventually. But until then they had each other and Ava had been through it and there was light at the end of the divorce tunnel.
‘Debs, just tell me,’ Ava begged.
‘It’s... Gary,’ Debs finally sniffed out.
‘Step-dad Gary?’ Ava queried. ‘The best step-dad in the world who always picks us up at two in the morning and brings kebabs? Taxi Dad?’ Ava put her hands to her mouth. ‘God, Debs, he’s not ill is he?’
‘No,’ Debs sniffed. ‘But he might be after this trip.’
Ava blinked. ‘You’d better explain.’
‘I think he’s having an affair.’
The absolute shock of that statement had Ava tightening her hold on her glass. She shook her head straightaway. ‘No... that’s just mad. I mean, Gary is the best,’ Ava said.
‘I know.’
‘He might work a lot, away sometimes granted, but he adores your mum.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Come on, Debs, he does,’ Ava said. ‘Remember their wedding? He swayed her around the dance floor to that awful, ancient Bryan Adams song. No one does that unless they’re really in love.’ Ava folded her arms across her chest. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I don’t want to believe it either but the things Mum said...’
‘Tell me,’ Ava said. ‘Having just been involved with a cheater myself I think I might know the signs.’
Except she hadn’t known or seen the signs. Any of them. She still didn’t know if there had been any.
‘It’s the usual clichéd stuff,’ Debs said, wiping her nose in the direction of Place de la Concorde. ‘Whispered phone calls. No one there when Mum answers the home phone.’
‘Well, that’s not suspicious. I get calls like that all the time. It’s usually one of those telesales people trying to find out the times of day I’m in.’
‘He’s Skyping.’
‘And…’
‘It’s someone called Francine.’
‘Maybe it’s someone he works with,’ Ava suggested.
‘Yes,’ Debs agreed. ‘It is.’
‘Yes it is, what?’ Ava asked.
‘She does work for his firm in one of the offices in France,’ Debs admitted. ‘The office in Paris.’
Ava sucked in a breath. ‘Whoa, wait. You’re not about to say something crazy are you?’
‘I don’t know?’ Debs said. ‘Am I?’
Ava took a suck of her cocktail. She knew how the idea of her step-dad having an affair would hurt Debs. Jon had had an affair with someone he worked with. If Gary was doing the same, putting Sue and Debs through something they had already lived through once, she was probably going to want to slash his tyres.
‘I want to follow her,’ Debs stated.
‘What? Like private-I style? Mireille Enos in The Catch?’
‘Gary is in France this week,’ Debs added. ‘He told Mum he’s at the office in Toulouse but—’
‘You think he’s having sex with Francine in Paris.’
‘I don’t know!’ Debs exclaimed. ‘But it’s like Dad all over again. Mum tells me not to worry but how can I not worry? She didn’t tell me anything at first... she told Lindsay from Ladbrokes and Lindsay told me... and... I just want to get to the bottom of it.’ She sighed. ‘Whatever it is. Good or bad.’
Ava sat forward in her chair. ‘Just a thought... but have you or your mum considered just asking Gary?’
Debs looked at her as if she had just said the world was in fact not a sphere but octagonal and the sea was actually blue Curacao.
‘Oh, Ava, how can she ask him? After what happened with Dad... she’s just terrified.’ Debs pulled in a breath. ‘She made me promise not to say anything to anyone and—’
‘OK… you’re right… I get it.’ Ava sighed, mind working overtime.
Debs looked incredulous and shook her head.
‘So, what are we going to do? Apart from trail this woman?’
‘Oh, Ava, I really didn’t invite you with me for this. I—’ Debs began.
‘Just you try and stop me helping,’ Ava warned.
Debs sighed. ‘She’s got a mystery meeting scheduled in her diary for the day after tomorrow and… well… who’s to say it isn’t with Gary?’
‘Or it could be a salon appointment,’ Ava said, her fingers going to her hair. ‘Or meeting someone... a friend... a colleague... not a married man.’
‘It’s not a hair appointment,’ Debs said confidently. ‘She writes that in pink and her hairdresser is called Delphine.’
She watched Debs swallow.
‘You hacked her calendar, didn’t you?’ Ava said.
‘Maybe... but I didn’t mean to... I was trying to hack her email and who knows, if I had, I could have had my answer already and I wouldn’t be thinking about what disguise to wear.’
‘You promised me no dress-up!’
Debs gave her a watery smile. ‘I just hope that I’m wrong about this. If Mum’s been duped again then—’
Ava reached forward and took hold of Debs’ hands. ‘It won’t be that. Gary...’ She drew in a breath, stopping herself from launching into a speech about how everything was going to be all right. She really didn’t know that, couldn’t guarantee it. She smiled. ‘Whatever happens, Debs, I’m here for you.’ She let go of her friend’s hands and picked up her glass, raising it in the air. ‘To Agincourt.’
Debs picked up her glass. ‘Agincourt.’
Ava took a large swig of her drink, put it down again and looked outside where the snow was battering against the window. She hoped the storm eased up a little overnight. Snow was nice when it was white and shiny and not six feet deep; it wasn’t so nice when it burned your cheeks and was accompanied by a gale-force wind. Evil snow would also make it harder to appreciate the beauty of the city.
From the table her phone began to trill. Ava’s eyes went to the screen. Leo.