‘I take it you haven’t told Louisa about Sinéad, then?’
Louisa and Mary had excused themselves to go to the powder room, while Guy and Harry asked for the bill.
‘I haven’t not told her deliberately,’ said Guy, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. ‘There’s a lot we haven’t talked about yet.’ Much of supper had been taken up with the discussion about Rose and other desperate maids they had heard about and what they had done. When Louisa had asked how he knew where she was in Paris, he had been forced to admit that he had called up Mrs Windsor at Swinbrook to find out where Louisa was, though he hadn’t liked to acknowledge he had needed to do so because they had lost touch so completely. In short, Guy did not want to know why Louisa hadn’t wanted to talk to him, for fear of ruining the pleasure he was now experiencing at their meeting again.
Harry made no response but Guy was clear on what he thought nonetheless. Harry’s old-fashioned loyalty was one of the reasons they were such firm friends.
Even so, he had to ask himself what he was doing, haring all the way to Paris on nothing but a hunch and a few words from a little girl.
Merely thinking this made Guy feel very nervous. He gulped down the last of the wine and had to thud himself on the chest to stop himself from coughing it back up. Harry watched him with amused detachment. ‘Looks to me as if you’d better start talking, and soon,’ was all he said.
Louisa and Mary returned to the table, Louisa now wearing some lipstick that Mary had obviously encouraged her to put on. Guy also noticed for the first time that Louisa was wearing a pretty blue dress, quite short, almost above her knees, even when she was standing up. She had good legs.
‘I had probably better get back quite soon,’ Louisa said as they sat down.
‘What do you mean?’ said Harry. ‘It’s not even half past nine. Come along to a club with us. You can’t be in Paris and not hear some jazz. There’s one or two places I still want to check out.’
‘Yes, go on, Lou,’ said Mary. ‘Come with us. Spare me being the only woman out with these two.’
‘Fine, just one bar, then I’ll have to go. Half past ten is my absolute limit.’
Only a few streets away was a club that Harry had heard about, and it wasn’t long before they were settled around a table with four cocktails, a few rows back from a dance floor in front of a band. Guy had been to a few places like this in London to watch Harry, though it wasn’t generally his first choice for an evening out. He preferred to go to the pictures with Sinéad, or even just to sit by the fire with his mother, reading a good book. But sitting here, amongst the chic Parisians with the smooth notes of jazz in the background, and in the company of his friends, he felt himself relax. Louisa was sitting beside him, and he could feel the warmth of her body radiating from her. It was all he could do not to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. A new song started and Harry and Mary got up to dance. ‘What are you waiting for?’ said Mary. ‘Let’s dance!’
Guy looked at Louisa and there was no doubt about it: she wanted to get up. ‘Come on, then,’ he said to her a little huskily. Dancing was something he did even more rarely than drinking cocktails and he could never quite shake off the feeling that a man was judged on more than his footwork when he stepped out with a girl. Luckily, the song had a beat he recognized and with a surge of confidence, he took Louisa by the hand and led her up. Pressed together, his arm around her back and their hands held up high, they stepped in symmetry and moved around the floor in tight proximity with the other couples. The lights were low, the music soft and Louisa’s mouth was daringly close. For the first few minutes, they danced without speaking, hardly even daring to meet each other’s eyes. For all the years they had known each other, for all that he had felt, they had never been so near to each other’s bodies. It threw Guy momentarily into confusion: he had spent so many years wanting this moment, now that it was here, he wasn’t sure how he felt. When he dared to steal a look at Louisa, he thought she might be thinking the same; though she was serene in expression, there was a flicker in her eyelids that made him think an electricity might be running through her. Thinking this made him spring apart from Louisa, startling her.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought I saw Rose.’
‘What? Where?’
‘No, it wasn’t her.’ He had lied but he hadn’t known what else to say.
She looked at him apprehensively. ‘I had no sleep last night, I think I’d better get back. I’m sorry, Guy. I was so enjoying the dance.’ She stopped and looked at him properly then, and his mouth went dry. ‘I really was. But I think I’d better go back.’
‘I’ll walk you back,’ said Guy.
‘There’s no need. I don’t want to spoil your evening.’
‘You couldn’t possibly. And I don’t want you walking alone around here.’ Guy was firm, and after they had said goodbye to Harry and Mary, they fetched their coats and were outside in the cold night air together. The streets were slick – there had been a short downpour in the time they had been in the club – and the yellow street lamps reflected blearily on the pavement. Along the road there were knots of women in twos and threes, heavily made-up and wearing short dresses with seamed stockings. The occasional car pulled up well out of the way of the lights and a woman would lean in through the window before getting in on the other side. Guy knew Louisa was worldly but he still felt uncomfortable at what was going on. With her arm looped through his, they walked quickly through the streets. Once out of Montparnasse and on to the wide avenue of boulevard Raspail – Louisa said they weren’t too far now – he slowed them down a little and they started to talk.
‘How long are you in Paris for?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. They were supposed to be here for a few weeks before going on to Sicily, though I was never joining them on that part of their honeymoon. But what with Mr Mulloney…’ She tailed off. ‘It might change things. What about you?’
‘I have to go back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Back to work. But when you get back to London, can we meet again?’ He stopped walking then. Louisa was bathed in the light of a shop window, with two narrow mannequins in some sort of fashionable confection. He wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at her. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Louisa put her face up towards his. ‘I’ve missed you too, Guy. I’m sorry I didn’t write back to you.’
She had received his letters after all.
‘The truth is, I didn’t know what to say. I went to London and it all went wrong. I thought I’d failed. I couldn’t bear to tell you. It seemed better somehow to get on with it by myself.’
‘Only you would think that,’ he smiled. ‘You could never fail in my eyes. I think you’re—’
But she had interrupted him and put her lips on his. For one moment he leant into her, his hands on her back, feeling nothing more than the softness and warmth of her lips, the feel of her body yielding to him.
He broke away. When he spoke he felt as if his mouth was filled with cotton wool: ‘I can’t.’
She said nothing but looked bewildered.
‘I’m engaged to a girl,’ said Guy. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Louisa retreated into herself immediately, he could see that. She pulled the collar of her coat around her, almost obscuring her mouth. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I know I should have but I didn’t want to presume you wanted more than for us to be friends. I didn’t know how you felt. I’ve never known.’
‘That can remain a mystery then. You can forget about me, Guy. We shan’t be meeting in London. And you can leave me here. I know where I am, the house is only a few minutes’ walk.’
‘But, please. Louisa.’
‘No. I can look after myself.’
She left him, walking down the street, never once looking back.