Chapter fourteen: Another Man

Sunday, 15th July 2001

Paris, France

Emma was waiting at the Eurostar station in Paris. She was waiting for Dexter to arrive on a train from London. She was a bit nervous. They had only seen each other once since his marriage to Sylvie had broken up. On that occasion, they had spent the night together. That night, she had finally slept with him, for the first and only time. She thought now that it had probably been a bad idea. But he had been desperately unhappy and she had wanted to help him in some way. They’d both been a bit drunk. Soon after, Emma had decided to get away from England for a few months. She had come to Paris for the spring and summer. She wanted to spend her time writing. Her Julie Criscoll books were a great success and her publisher wanted more.

Now Dexter was coming to visit her for a few days and she hoped that they could both forget about that night and be good friends again. But she had something to tell Dexter and she was worried.

The train arrived and a few moments later Emma saw Dexter walking towards her. He was carrying a book. He looked terrible – he’d lost weight and his clothes were untidy and too big for him. He looked desperately tired.

The end of his marriage to Sylvie had hurt Dexter a lot. Their divorce was going to be made final soon. Sylvie and Jasmine had now gone to live with Callum O’Neill. That had made it worse for Dexter, of course.

‘You didn’t have to meet me,’ Dexter said.

‘Of course I had to meet you,’ she said, smiling. ‘You’re a tourist.’

The two friends left the station and went to a cafe near the river. They sat down at a table outside it and Emma ordered coffee for them. Dexter put the book he had been carrying on the table. It was a copy of Big Julie Criscoll Against the Whole World.

‘It’s great, Em,’ Dexter said. ‘I read it on the train. I really enjoyed it. It’s the first novel I’ve finished in years. There were hundreds of copies in the bookshop at the station in London. I’m really proud of you.’

‘Well, thanks for that, but it’s really a book for eleven-to fourteen-year olds,’ Emma said. She laughed, but she was touched. ‘The publisher wants two more Julie Criscoll books and there’s going to be a TV show based on them too,’ she went on. ‘I’m going to be…’ She stopped when she saw Dexter’s face and started to talk about something else.

They drank their coffee and then they walked through the busy streets to Emma’s flat. As they walked, Dexter told Emma that he missed his daughter desperately. He saw her only once a fortnight, when Sylvie brought her to visit him.

Emma’s flat was on the fifth floor of an old building. They climbed the stairs and Emma opened the door. The flat was light and pleasant. Emma went to the kitchen and Dexter looked into the other rooms. There was only one bed in the flat – a big one.

Dexter saw the bed, sighed deeply, then he hurried to the kitchen and put his arms round Emma. He started to kiss her wildly. But after a moment, she pushed him gently away.

‘Dex, I have to tell you something,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve got a friend here in Paris. His name’s Jean-Pierre. I like him very much.’

Suddenly Dexter understood. ‘You’re seeing another man?’ he said. ‘A French man? Oh, right. But where am I going to sleep? I need to find a hotel, don’t I? Or shall I just go back to London this evening?’

‘You can sleep here, Dex. I’ll sleep at Jean-Pierre’s flat,’ Emma said. Dexter just looked at her. ‘Oh, Dexter, what did you think was going to happen?’

‘Well, we’re lovers, aren’t we? I hoped that you and I…’ He stopped. ‘Oh, Emma, you can’t… ‘

‘Dexter, you’re jealous,’ Emma said laughing. ‘I can’t believe it. This is so strange. We were lovers for one night! One night in thirteen years. Think of all the girlfriends you’ve brought to see me. You always told me who you were sleeping with. You didn’t expect me to be jealous of them. And now… and now…’ But she couldn’t go on. She saw the pain and the hopelessness in his eyes. She put her arms round him and kissed him gently.

‘Oh, Dexter,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought that I’d got rid of you. I thought that you weren’t going to be my problem anymore. All right, all right. I’ll phone Jean-Pierre and tell him that I’m ill. But Dexter, if you ever treat me badly and go off with other people, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?’