‘And you’re sure there’ll be someone to serve for you?’ she said, reluctant to leave even though she was tired.
‘Yes, yes. Bob’s secretary organised that when she set up the dinner party. She booked the chef too. I must tell her they didn’t turn up.’
‘You should!’ said Alexandra, who had started to resent the non-appearance of a trained professional quite early on.
‘But at least now I can give you this.’ Donna put an envelope full of French francs into Alexandra’s hand. ‘Don’t argue. Just get in a cab and go back to your lodgings. But promise you’ll come back in the morning to hear how it went?’
‘I promise,’ said Alexandra, suspecting she might be called upon to help clear up as well, in spite of the hired waitress.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Alexandra!’ Donna said. ‘You’ve been so brilliant.’
‘I’ve really enjoyed myself! I just wish …’
‘What?’
‘That I could spend more than just a few days in Paris.’
‘Oh, I’d love that!’ said Donna. ‘We could explore it together and I’d learn not to be terrified of the waiters.’
Alexandra laughed and then sighed. ‘What I need is a proper reason to stay, like a job. If I was working for grand people my relations would probably approve. I’d be improving my French with people with the right accent.’
‘What qualifications do you have? Shorthand, typing?’ asked Donna.
Alexandra shrugged and sighed again. ‘I have no qualifications. I’m fit for nothing.’
‘That’s certainly not true! Look what you’ve done for me!’
‘I loved doing it.’ Then she and Donna shared a long hug before Alexandra got into the tiny, creaking lift.
When Alexandra presented herself at the elegant apartment at eleven o’clock the following morning, she found Donna in a state of excitement.
‘It was amazing!’ she said to Alexandra, without waiting for an exchange of how-are-yous. ‘I am so grateful to you I cannot tell you!’ Donna took Alexandra by the arm and led her into the salon. The long windows were open and there was a little table set on the balcony. ‘Sit down. I’m going to bring you coffee and dessert and then I’ll tell you some wonderful news.’
Alexandra was very happy to sit and watch Paris go by below her in the sunshine. Donna appeared with coffee and a plate of profiteroles and cream: Gâteau Saint-Honoré in its component parts.
‘I met the most gorgeous man!’ said Donna. ‘Don’t worry, not like that. I’m married to Bob and nothing will ever change that. But this man has a job for you! What about that? He also had a gorgeous woman with him, but that’s not the point. Can you imagine? When I told him about you, he was so interested, especially when I mentioned your family house in Belgravia.’
Alexandra’s heart leaped. She really didn’t want to go to finishing school in Switzerland, especially not when there was a chance she could stay in Paris and have fun with Donna.
‘What’s the job? Do you know?’ Alexandra now really wanted to stay in Paris so badly, she’d try anything. Although the gorgeous man probably wanted a bilingual secretary who could not only speak French but do shorthand too – in both languages.
Donna made a face. ‘I don’t really know, but the good part is, it’s only for a month. Your relatives might not mind you staying for a month. Families like dates, I’ve discovered. Mine really didn’t want us to come to Paris but when I said it was only for a year, they felt a lot better about it.’
Alexandra nodded. ‘I think mine would be the same, but I need to know what sort of job it is. I may not be able to do it. I told you I couldn’t do shorthand, for example.’
‘He didn’t say anything like that. He said you must be able to cook, which you can, speak English and French, which obviously you can, and drive. Can you drive?’
‘Yes,’ said Alexandra, ‘but I’m not sure I can drive in French.’ She tried to imagine herself driving through Paris and felt a little daunted.
‘Oh, you mean in Paris? I see your point. Parisians make up their own rules about how to do it.’
Then Alexandra got over her defeatist attitude. ‘I did learn to drive in London, and if I can do Hyde Park Corner, I’m sure I’d get used to Paris. For a month, you say?’
Donna nodded. ‘Your family would like that, wouldn’t they? You’d have a month of really brushing up your French, although I think it’s perfectly fine as it is, and then you can go to the finishing school.’ Donna paused, not something she did often. ‘What do they teach you to do there, do you think?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. How to write cheques, how to address the nobility and how to get in and out of sports cars without showing your pants.’
Donna laughed delightedly. ‘In America pants are things men wear. But never mind that: here’s his card. You’re to go to that address at two o’clock today for an interview. All the information is on there. If you need a reference, Bob will give you one.’
