‘Abby, I don’t even know if I’ll be going to Paris, I only said that?—’
‘I have to go, keep me updated! Bye!’
Blake opened her mouth to say something else, but the line had gone dead. Typical Abby. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought her sister already knew about the lead and had called simply to harass her into going.
‘Is there something I need to know about in Paris?’
She put her phone down on her desk and turned to see Deborah standing there, her hands in the pockets of her high-waisted, wide-legged pants, which made her legs look ridiculously long. Blake glanced down at her jeans and vintage blazer with the sleeves pushed up—not quite Deborah, but after a little help from Mathilda, and a noticeable dent in her bank balance, she at least didn’t feel dowdy beside her boss.
‘I finally have a solid lead,’ Blake said. ‘I was just about to send you the second story so you could approve it before I upload.’
Deborah arched a brow. ‘The lead is in Paris?’
Blake nodded and quickly hit print on her story when Deborah held out her hand. It only took seconds for her to collect it from her printer and pass the page to her, and she felt as if she held her breath for the entire six minutes it took Deborah to read it. She finally let it out properly when her editor smiled at her and tucked the page under her arm, silently clapping her hands together and giving her a beaming smile.
‘This is brilliant, Blake, truly brilliant. I always knew you were good, but this? This sets a new benchmark. It’s like I’m hearing an authentic voice in a sea of rehearsed bullshit. Nowonder our readers haven’t been able to get enough of that first instalment.’
Relief coursed through her body, her head hammering as if she’d just been given the praise she’d been waiting for her entire life. ‘Thank you.’ Genuine praise from Deborah was rare, so she felt like a schoolgirl getting her first A-plus from a notoriously tough teacher. But she’d known when she’d written it that it was different, because for the first time, she’d put part of her true self into her writing.
‘Call through to my assistant and have her book you tickets to Paris. How many nights’ accommodation will you need?’
Blake opened her mouth to answer, but suspected she looked like a goldfish gasping for air, because nothing came out. Deborah didn’t seem to notice, or if she had, she chose to ignore it. She’d already turned on her heel, pausing at the door to Blake’s office.
‘I think you should take at least a few days, even a week if you need it. Just make sure you have your story ready for me next Friday. This is worth making space in the budget for. I want you to turn the trip into a fabulous story,’ Deborah said, before calling over her shoulder. ‘And make sure you take photos! We need to start posting on our socials to help promote the articles!’
Blake didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t make impromptu travel plans, and she certainly didn’t go toParis, but her sister’s words kept ringing in her ears, and she knew that if she didn’t go, it would be because she’d let fear hold her back. Besides, what was it that Lily had said? Something about discovering her family’s secrets changing her life?
She picked up the office phone to dial her editor’s assistant, her hand shaking as she pressed the buttons. Blake took a deep breath.
Paris. She’d read about the city of love her entire life, and now she was finally going to see it.
Maybe.
No, not maybe.
Definitely.
8
PARIS, 1927
Evelina stood on the pavement as dusk changed the sky above, stealing the sun and leaving the sky a moody combination of dark and light.I’m in Paris. I’m finally where I belong.She wished she’d arrived in the daylight so she could have marvelled at the sights around her, but still, there was nowhere in the world she’d rather be.
Beneath a flickering street light across the road, a scantily clad woman stood, her lips painted a bright red and her breasts almost spilling from the corset-style dress she wore. Evelina tucked back into the shadows as a man approached the woman, keeping a watchful eye on them as the woman laughed and took the man’s hand, leading him out of sight and down an alleyway. Evelina stayed where she was and took one of the pieces of bread from her satchel and the hunk of cheese, in an effort to appease her growling stomach. It had been hours since she’d last eaten, and even though she’d intended on nibbling just a little and saving more for later, she found that she ate every last bite as she stood there.
It didn’t take long for the woman to return, and Evelina wiped the crumbs from her hands and crossed the road once the man had left.
‘Excuse me,’ Evelina said, as the woman shook her head.
‘This is no place for you, chérie. Go home.’
Up close, the woman wasn’t nearly as attractive as Evelina had thought she was. Her face was overpainted, her lipstick smudged and she was much older than she’d appeared, her face creased with lines.
‘I’ve just arrived in the city, and I’m looking for somewhere to stay.’ Evelina cleared her throat. ‘Could you recommend anywhere?’
The woman folded her arms, glancing around as if to check that no one was watching them. Or perhaps she was looking for customers. Evelina had lived a sheltered life, but she knew about the sins of the flesh and what this woman was standing on the street corner for.
‘Go down the street and turn left,’ the woman said with a sigh. ‘Ask for Juliette. Hopefully she’ll have a bed for you, and don’t come back round these parts again after dark.’
