Versailles Palace was even more astonishing than she’d imagined: there was so much gold – on statues, the cornices, edging the ceilings – that each room seemed to glow with decadence. She marvelled, looking up at the elaborately painted ceilings, almost stumbling as she took in the scene: angels and gods in brilliant blue skies depicting scenes of battle, or of royal dignitaries on elaborate thrones.
‘Pretty impressive, right?’ Brad said. ‘No wonder they called him the king of kings.’
‘Louis XIV?’
‘Yeah. He liked things luxurious, right?’
‘Just a bit.’ She moved around a woman with a camera to avoid ruining her picture.
‘You know a lot of this was just distraction,’ he said.
‘What was?’
‘All this.’ Brad waved his arm. ‘Apparently he was distracting the nobles with luxury and God-knows-what, so he could get on with ruling France without them bothering him.’
She laughed. ‘Pretty good strategy. Might try that sometime.’
‘Ah, we all still do it to ourselves,’ he said. ‘You know. Distraction. Drinking, going out, late nights. It means we don’t have to think about anything too much.’
Bella felt her neck prickle. ‘Like I do, you mean?’
‘Woah, no. Don’t get me wrong. I was talking about me. Not so much going out these days, but I know I’m getting through a little too much whisky at the moment.’
‘And me, on the wine,’ she admitted. Was Brad right? Was thegoing out and having funshe’d been participating in more of a way of forgetting her reality? Probably.
He smiled. ‘Still, must have been harder, right, in those days? No TV.’
She laughed. ‘You should become a tour guide here.’
‘Yeah?’ He seemed genuinely complimented and she felt a little mean.
‘Yeah, you know. Speculating on the lack of TV in the eighteenth century. How these days it’d be Netflix on the ceiling rather than paintings.’
‘Very funny.’
They walked on, down the famous Hall of Mirrors which reflected so much light against the already sparkling decor that it was almost blinding. Bella saw her reflection as they passed; mirror after mirror, each one somehow reflecting a different version of her as the angle of the light changed. Isabella the executive, Bella the pretend student, Pete’s wife, Henri’s girlfriend. And someone else. Someone who looked happier than all of them – the way she felt today. When had she last taken a proper day off, she thought? Got away from it all?
‘This has got to be my favourite room,’ Brad remarked as they reached the end of the Hall.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Ah, probably because the dudes in the pictures are all so goddam handsome.’
‘They’re mirrors… oh.’ She grinned. ‘Got to love your confidence. Have you been here many times before?’
‘Oh God. Thousands, probably.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say? They don’t have anything like this in the States. It’s all concrete and modernity. And my grandmother used to bring me here as a kid.’
‘You don’t get bored?’
He shook his head. ‘Never. There’s so much here. So much to look at.’ He pointed at a painting. ‘Like that fella. I mean, I know fashions have changed. But he’s actually wearing white pantyhose and pumps.’
‘That’s the king,’ she said, looking at the picture of King Louis in ceremonial robes spread decadently around him, his legs exposed in – yes, it did seem to be an ensemble of white tights and slightly heeled shoes.
‘I know, right? I bet you’re glad your British king doesn’t go in for that sort of thing.’
She imagined King Charles making an appearance in enormous pantaloons, tights and heeled shoes, and let out a brief, barking laugh that reverberated around the high-ceilinged room, breaking through the buzz of chatter. Several people glanced in their direction.
Brad laughed. ‘What was that?’
