‘You don’t know where she went? Where she might have lived?’ Joe asked. ‘Because absinthe was produced all over France and near the Swiss border, and it would help if you could narrow it down.’
‘Her family doesn’t know what happened to her after that, until she moved to London before the war,’ Mia told him, frustrated at how little she knew, and wishing someone had been interested enough to ask Hope about her past when she’d been alive.Although by all accounts she was a very private woman, so perhaps it was that she hadn’t wanted to share, rather than no one being interested. ‘All that she left behind was a notebook full of fairy drawings, this bottle and some other little keepsakes that don’t seem to have any relevance to our search.’
Joe’s eyebrows had knitted together again, as if he were deep in thought, and then he stood and asked for her to excuse him a moment. When Mia looked around, she saw that the restaurant was almost empty, and there were only a handful of people inside at the bar. She wasn’t sure whether Joe was just being polite or whether he actually wanted her to wait, but when he returned he was carrying his jacket over his arm.
‘Do you have plans?’ he asked. ‘After this?’
Mia shook her head as her cheeks heated. She wished her body wasn’t so quick to give away her feelings, and she only hoped he hadn’t noticed her flushed cheeks.
‘Ah, no. My only plan was to come here and ask for whatever you could tell me about absinthe. I hadn’t planned anything beyond that.’
He inclined with his head. ‘Come with me. Let’s walk. I think better when I’m moving.’
Mia hesitated. ‘You’re certain you don’t have plans that I’m interrupting? I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss for leaving early.’
His grin warmed something inside her. ‘How could I not have time for a beautiful woman with a mystery to solve?’ he said. ‘But if you’re not comfortable walking with me at night, I understand.’
Mia swallowed. He was a stranger and the pavement was dark except for the streetlights, but she couldn’t say no. Maybe it was the fact that he might be able to help her with her mystery; maybe she just couldn’t keep her eyes off his stubbled jaw and golden, tanned skin. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she was in France. Mia had no intention of turning him down. Besides, it wasn’t as if the streets were empty. She couldn’t imagine walking with him would be any more dangerous than walking back to her hotel alone.
‘Could I buy you a drink, for giving up part of your evening for me?’
His smile was instant. ‘There’s a street vendor a few blocks away who makes the best crepes in Paris. Are you hungry?’
No, I’ve just eaten an enormous plate of food at your restaurant, I couldn’t possibly fit in another mouthful. But instead she smiled and said, ‘I’ve always wanted to eat a crepe in Paris.’
‘Then you can thank me with a crepe. I always forget to eat until we close for the night, so you’d be doing me a favour.’ Joe started to walk, and Mia fell into an easy step beside him. His pace was slow, allowing her to look around as they wandered.
‘Are you familiar with Paris?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been here a few times, but it was some years ago,’ she said. ‘It feels like I’m seeing it through fresh eyes tonight. It truly is the most beautiful city.’
‘Well, if you want to know more about absinthe,’ he asked, gesturing for her to walk alongside him and holding out his arm. It seemed like such an old-fashioned gesture, but it only made her feel even more comfortable with him. ‘Then this is the perfect place to start.’
Mia hesitated before tucking her hand through his arm, knowing it would make her feel safer walking through the streets at night, but was careful to keep a little distance between them as they walked. Part of her was wondering if she was crazy to disappear into the night with a stranger, but another part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind. What was the worst that could happen? She bit down on her lip, refusing to think of the worst thing that could happen because she could already come up with a few.
‘I want you to imagine this is 1930,’ he said, gesturing to a typical French restaurant on the corner. ‘Places like that over there would have been filled with more well-to-do people, but if you keep walking down this street, you’ll come to a cluster of restaurants where the more arty crowd gathered. The farther we walk in this direction, the more you will find.’ He paused, glancing down at her. ‘That’s where you would have found your painters and sculptors, your writers and dreamers, chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap spirits.’
Mia nodded, still not sure how this related to the green fairy drink. But it was impossible not to see the picture hewas painting and imagine the tables filled with people, their laughter and conversation drifting down the pavement. Perhaps in another lifetime she might have been there, too.
‘Those people didn’t have a lot of money, but what they did have they spent on cigarettes and alcohol,’ he said. ‘They lived a very lean existence, but they knew how to have fun. They were the epitome of the starving artist, suffering for their craft. Few of them ever managed to break out and become successful, but some did. And even when they did, this was still the place where they felt most at home.’
‘They were the ones drinking absinthe?’ she asked.
‘They were.’ They stopped while Joe checked the road before crossing. ‘They liked the way it made them feel, and it’s said that drinking absinthe fuelled their creativity. It was the one drink they were prepared to pay a little more for, to get the feeling they craved. They were the crowd that made the drink so popular, and they drove the demand for it.’
‘They didn’t care that it was illegal?’ she asked.
‘It probably made them want it all the more. And it had been legal for so long before, so there was a strong resistance when the government announced the new laws. France had always stood against prohibition, unlike many other countries, but absinthe had developed a reputation for being a hallucinogenic, which is why the ban was largely accepted by the public.’
They kept walking, slowly, but Mia caught herself craning her neck to look back at the restaurant, finding herself wondering if her aunt might have been there all those years ago and, if so, what she might have looked like. She hadn’t known her well enough to have heard stories of her youth; hadn’t seen photos of what she looked like, either. But still, her imagination was somehow painting a very vivid picture.
‘Some bars had what those in the know called the green hour, and one of the most famous drinks in the thirties wasHemingway’s Death in the Afternoon cocktail. Even though it was illegal, its popularity never waned.’
‘It sounds dangerous.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, it was. Ice-cold champagne and absinthe mixed together are potent at the best of times, but Hemingway encouraged the drinking of at least four or five over an evening. So there were many drunk patrons all around this quarter by closing time.’
Mia shook her head, imagining just how drunk she’d be after two, let alone five. But hearing Joe describe it had her imagining the scene in her mind.
