‘That you’re willing to say that stuff about yourself. I don’t mean it’s cool to run yourself down. I mean… I guess you’re humble. So many of the people I’ve worked with, they’re full of it, you know. They think they’re Richard Branson or Jeff Bezos. The next big thing. And they ain’t got shit. And you…’ He looked at her and she almost had to turn away. ‘You’ve got the goods, Bella. But you’re modest.’
She made a play of opening the tiny ginger biscuit in its individual packet on her saucer. ‘It’s not modesty. I genuinely mean what I say about being out of my depth. In fact, IknowI am.’
Brad shook his head. ‘But you’re not. Nah, sorry to say. But you’re the real deal.’ She looked up and saw his blue eyes fixed on her, full of warmth and kindness. The intensity of it made her feel out of her depth in a whole new way.
‘Brad,’ she leant forward, lowering her voice in case they were overheard. ‘I am literally only in my job because I exaggerated – lied even – on my CV. I have no idea what I’m doing.’
He reached up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. There was something tender in the movement. His fingertips brushed her skin, and she felt a strange sense of recognition. As if her body had been somehow waiting for his touch. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before. As if they’d always known each other. No longer out of her depth; more of a feeling of coming home. She tried to concentrate.
‘You can deflect all you like,’ he said. ‘But your ideas are pretty good. And you might not be… Isabella, corporate genius or whatever. But you did run your own place for eight years.’
She was momentarily silenced. Around them the café buzzed with noise, life, movement. But at their table, everything was quiet and still. ‘You think?’ she said at last.
‘Bella, if I were running a hotel, well, I’d be headhunting you immediately!’
‘As a cleaner?’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, as a bathroom cleaner, obviously.’
‘So, what are you going to do?’ she asked at last. ‘About your businesses, I mean? Get back into the café trade?’
He shrugged. ‘Not sure yet. I’ve got a bit to live off. I need to think about what I want.’
‘Sounds sensible.’
He looked at her, his blue eyes earnest. ‘I guess I’m still not being completely honest. It’s not just about what I want. It’s about… well, you know how it is when you’ve been burnt by something.’
She nodded.
‘See, when I made my investments before, I was young. Stupid maybe. Whatever it was stopped me from worrying about it too much. Now… well, I’m older. The stakes are higher. I don’t want to lose again. Can’t. So I kind of— I just can’t work out where to start. And I’m not sure I’ve got it in me.’ He flushed, cleared his throat.
‘You’ll get there.’
He looked out of the window. ‘Anyway, there are worse places to lose your mind than Versailles, right? Fancy doing the tourist thing today?’
‘The tourist thing?’
‘Yeah. Ah, the others, they’re used to this place. But for us foreigners, it’s all new. Maybe we should forget hotels and divorces and lost investments and business chat and just go look at the palace. Pretend we’re on holiday, you know?’
Bella thought of Henri back at home. They had vague plans for tonight, but she’d earmarked the day to catch up with work, thinking it might take hours. But they’d done all they could for now, and it would feel great to step away.
‘Sure,’ she said, draining the rest of her cup. ‘Why not?’
32
NOW
‘Oh man, we should never have come on a Saturday,’ Brad moaned as they joined the long queue at the palace.
She laughed. ‘Come on, it’s not so bad. Anyway, I’m British. We love queuing.’
‘Yeah, I never really understood that.’
‘Me neither. I don’t think any of us actually do, if that makes you feel any better. We just put up with it better than most.’
He grinned. ‘Well, looks like you’ll have to put up with it for quite a while today.’
He wasn’t wrong. The popularity of the palace, particularly on a sunny Saturday, meant they waited for entry for over an hour. But finally they paid, and suddenly they were in a decadent building she’d only read about before.
