It wasn’t the wine either, she thought; she’d only had a couple of drinks – her headache was testament to that – but once she’d entered the bar, the whole atmosphere had lifted her. She hadn’t needed any chemical inducement to become part of the joyous whole insideLe Cocorico.
She managed to deflect Kitty’s questions by claiming to have arrived at the station five minutes before she really did. Once duty call done, she pushed her phone into her bag, and thoughts of subterfuge and younger men out of her brain. Then she stepped onto the train and became Isabella: ready for a day of serious work and poised for success.
* * *
On arrival, she nodded briefly at Mélodie on reception before summoning one of the two lifts. When it arrived, she stepped in; it smelled strongly of the perfume of the last occupant: heady and expensive. On floor one, the doors slid open and to her horror, a diminutive figure in a pink Chanel suit that sported three enormous black buttons on the front hobbled in, a small dog at her heels. The dog looked at Bella with undisguised contempt.
‘Bonjour,’ the woman croaked, not looking up.
‘Bonjour, Madame Roux,’ Bella said, trying to keep her voice bright. In reality, she felt a bit nervous: Yves had seemed terrified of the old woman and so far she’d managed to avoid spending more than a passing moment in her presence. ‘And Coco of course,’ she added, bending down to make a fuss over the dog, who endured her strokes with stiff suspicion before straightening.
Madame Roux raised her face to Bella’s. She was wearing thick make-up, bold red lips. Under her small pink hat, her white hair was pulled back into a bun. ‘Oh, so you’re the English girl,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I suppose they’ve told you all about me.’
‘Not really.’ Bella tried to smile. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Ha!’ the woman laughed. ‘Nice to meet me indeed! Now Iknowthey can’t have told you anything.’
Bella smiled fully at this. Madame Roux seemed completely harmless.
‘I’m sure they’d have only said nice things.’
Madame Roux laughed again, a single syllable bark. ‘They do not understand me. I try to help. Offer advice. But people are afraid of hearing the truth.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. It sounds as if you are very kind,’ Bella said, smiling.
‘What’s that you’re wearing?’ The old woman leant forward and inspected Bella’s neat black skirt and floral blouse.
‘Oh.’ Bella looked down. ‘Just some… work clothes.’
‘I can see that.’ Madame Roux looked her up and down carefully. ‘You know, that horrible blouse does nothing for you. That colour washes you out. The pattern is ugly. You look dull. You need something red, vibrant.’
‘Oh.’
‘And the fit,’ Madame Roux shook her head as if Bella were completely beyond help. ‘It drowns you. And the skirt is too long.’ The little dog sniffed Bella’s shoe slightly, then also seemed to turn his back as if even her feet hadn’t passed muster. ‘The whole effect is quite, quite dowdy.’
‘Oh well, it’s just a work outfit,’ she said, tugging self-consciously at her blouse.
There was a silence, then, ‘But you are young. You shouldn’t be afraid to be bold. Life is too short.’
Bella had actually thought the print on the blousewasquite bold, but suddenly it looked drab, formless in the mirrored back wall of the lift.
‘Don’t be disheartened,mon petit,’ her companion added. ‘You can always go shopping.’
‘That’s true,’ Bella managed to say.
‘Well, good day,’ Madame Roux said when she exited on the second floor.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Yves was hovering near the lift when it reached the third floor and she turned towards her office, feeling as if every last bit of confidence had been drained from her body.
‘Salut.’ He held out a paper cup from a high-end coffee shop. ‘I bought you an Americano. I hope that’s OK?’
She smiled. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
