Julien could see Debs and Ava standing underneath the tall chestnut trees, the old, faded, green metal chairs underneath the leafless boughs still occupied by old Parisian men playing chess, even in the cold, darkening evening. There were fairground rides and lines of stalls everywhere you looked. From food sellers to fortune-tellers, the fair was buzzing. To his right a family played boules, trussed up in bright winter coats and hats, fingers inside gloves.
As Didier walked on ahead, Julien’s hand went to the camera around his neck and he lifted it to his face, eye lining up with the viewfinder, capturing the mother, father and two sons as they laughed, golden lights from the carousel behind them, the outline of the Fontaine de Médicis just visible.
And then he focussed on Ava. Her hat was on her head, her hands in the pockets of the denim coat, those red Converse still on her feet. He liked spending time with her. More than he had enjoyed spending time with anybody over the past twelve months. But how was she going to feel when she knew about Lauren... about the fire... He would no longer be just Julien Fitoussi, the photographer; he would be a victim in her eyes, reliving things again.
But that was what he had to deal with. That’s what he had to face head on. Moving forward. Not dwelling like his father had accused him of. Reminiscing but no longer mourning.
‘Julien!’
Didier’s voice carried across the gardens and he stepped forward.
Ava stamped her feet into the snow knowing that Julien was approaching and feeling like she was on a first date. Why did it matter to her so much that he didn’t have a girlfriend? Why was her stomach churning up her insides like a snowplough munching through slush?
‘Bonsoir, Madonna,’ Julien greeted, arriving at her side.
‘Bonsoir, Monsieur Fitoussi.’ She couldn’t ignore the chestnut eyes and her fingers wrapped around the picture in her coat pocket, remembering how she had traced the outline of them with her biro.
‘I am dying for some churros!’ Didier announced. ‘Please, before we take photographs and get involved with being sold overpriced sparkly items we would never look twice at in the summertime but are must-haves for Christmas, I need to coat my stomach with sugar.’
‘That sounds like a fabulous idea,’ Debs agreed, grinning.
‘Churros for four, yes?’ Didier said, looking at each of them in turn.
‘Come on,’ Debs said, linking her arm through Didier’s. ‘We’ll get these.’
Ava reached out quickly, attempting to claw at her friend’s retreating coat but she missed. And that left just the two of them. And she had to ask Julien if he had a girlfriend. She looked up at him.
‘Ava,’ he said. ‘There is something I have to...’ He paused. ‘Something I must tell you.’
‘You’ve got a girlfriend,’ Ava stated bluntly. ‘I know.’
‘What?’ Julien exclaimed.
‘It doesn’t matter... because we’re just friends and everything but... when you sort of held my hand today I thought... if your girlfriend had seen that... she might have thought it was something... not that it was something but...’
‘Ava—’
‘But I don’t get why you would say you were single when you’re not, because I thought we were friends and somehow I dissected my awful love life and home life for you and—’
‘I am single,’ Julien interrupted.
Ava blinked, confused. ‘You don’t have a girlfriend?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But the woman at the market.’
‘I told you that was Diane from the gallery.’
‘You did but... I thought you were meeting Lauren so...’
Julien shook his head. And this is where everything had sprung from. Him talking about his sister like she still worked not far from here, still lived in the apartment with the blue door.
‘Ava, there is something I have to tell you... and it is about Lauren.’ Every part of him was telling him to stop, fight against the words he didn’t want to say, but he needed to do this for so many reasons.
‘Please understand this...’ He sighed. ‘I did not mean to be dishonest with you.’ He took hold of her hands as she just looked back at him, expression now confused. He swallowed. There was no going back now.
‘Ava, Lauren—’ There was no easy way. There were no soft words or a gentle way to put it. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment. The last moment before Ava realised he’d deceived her. ‘Lauren died,’ he said in no more than a whisper.
Her hands fell from his and one went to her chest as she rocked back a little. ‘What?’ she exclaimed. ‘What d’you mean? God, I feel sick. Julien... What d’you mean she died? I don’t understand.’
‘No. Ava, it is not now, not today.’ He shook his head. This was so much harder than he could ever have imagined. ‘It was... it was a year ago,’ he said, swallowing. ‘Ava, when I was talking about her to you, I just—’ Nothing he said sounded appropriate. He tried again. ‘I am so sorry, I... don’t know what I was thinking. I just—’
‘I don’t understand,’ Ava stated. ‘Because you definitely said... you said yesterday that you were meeting her this morning.’ She wet her lips. ‘And...’
‘I did not make it clear... I should have made it clear... I don’t know why I did not but...’
He saw her absorbing this information and as each piece of knowledge hit her he watched every small part of the relationship they had built up begin to crumble. He had lied to her. Just like the boyfriend she had travelled the English Channel to leave behind.
‘When did you say this was?’ she asked. ‘How long ago?’
‘A year ago,’ he repeated.
‘A year.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘She has been dead a year... we talked about her and it slipped your mind that she was actually dead?’ Ava snapped.
He shook his head. ‘It did not slip my mind... it never slips my mind... I just... said the wrong thing and then, once I had started saying the wrong thing it was just harder to put right.’
‘I knew there was something wrong. When you said you had met your father... it just didn’t seem right...’
‘Ava, I didn’t want to lie to you,’ he said, wanting to take her hands but fearing it was too much now. ‘It was just so... so wonderful to be able to speak to someone who didn’t know what had happened... to talk about Lauren and to remember her like she was alive.’
‘How did she die?’ Ava asked, her tone a little softer.
He swallowed. ‘It was an accident... a fire in her apartment block.’ He paused, his skin prickling. ‘It started in the roof and it ripped through the whole building. When I got there the whole place was engulfed in flames and...’
She gasped. ‘You were there?’
‘Too late,’ he answered.
Her hands went to her mouth then and he saw tears building up in her eyes. He didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve her pity or her sympathy after he had kept it from her and tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. And now she knew. Now he was the man who had lost his sister in a fire and hadn’t been able to save her.
‘Ava, from the bottom of my heart, I apologise for not telling you straight away. It was just so refreshing to be able to talk about her, share memories without pain, when for so long everyone around me seemed to want to forget her. I—’
‘Julien,’ Ava interrupted.
‘No, please, you do not have to say anything. I know you will not want to see me again. I know how important honesty is to you and—’
‘Julien... it’s OK,’ Ava said. ‘I understand.’
‘What?’
‘I said it’s OK,’ she said. She moved her feet in the snow, crunching it underneath her soles. ‘From what you’ve told me about Lauren, she was a big part of your life. Losing someone like that... I can only imagine...’
He nodded. ‘She was a big part of my life.’
‘Then... you had better tell me some more about her,’ Ava said.
He smiled. ‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘Really, Monsieur Fitoussi.’
‘Churros! Ava! Come on before Didier eats them all!’ Debs called from the stall a few feet ahead.
‘Ava,’ Julien said, catching her arm before she could move away, ‘there is something else you should know.’
‘You do like Coldplay, don’t you? You haven’t lied to me about that?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, Madonna, I do like Coldplay.’ He wet his lips as he looked at her. ‘And you should know... I really do not have a girlfriend.’