She steeled her jaw and turned, looking around again and feeling more hopeful as sunshine slipped through the narrow windows.
‘It’s not much, but I think you’ll like it here.’
Hope turned and looked around. ‘You’re all artists?’ she asked.
‘Artists and one writer,’ the other woman said, lighting a cigarette and shrugging. ‘All poor, all struggling for our art, but we get on. If you want to move in, we can introduce you to our friends and show you around the city, too.’
Hope nodded, as if trying to convince herself. ‘I’ll take it.’
‘Great. Come by with your things later and we’ll go out for a drink. Have you discovered the green fairy yet?’
Hope knew she wore a blank expression, but she had no idea what her new housemate was talking about. ‘Ah…’
Celine placed an arm around her shoulder and grinned. ‘You’re young and still full of creativity. The rest of us have been doing this for so long, we need a special little drink to help us. You’ll learn soon enough.’
‘How long have you been trying to get your work seen?’ Hope asked.
‘Too many years to count.’ Celine sighed. ‘But it’s not that bad, not once you’re used to being so poor. We make enough to have fun, and there are enough starving artists around that it’s quite the community.’ She laughed. ‘I mean, are you even an artist if you’re not starving?’
Hope held her smile, hoping it appeared genuine, while at the same time she was horrified that there were so many struggling artists in the city. She would give herself a year, and if she hadn’t succeeded by then, she would search for a proper job. Because this tiny, grubby apartment was bearable for now, but it wasn’t the life she’d imagined for herself.
This wasn’t the kind of life she could live forever.
But it’s still better than what I left behind.
Just.
11
Hope was beginning to understand the termstarving artist. Thankfully she’d found a cleaning job five mornings a week, which meant she could just pay her rent and afford to eat, but she had no clue how the rest of the artists she lived with paid any of their bills.
‘Hope! Come and sit with us!’ Celine called out.
She’d spent all afternoon at her studio and hadn’t emerged until nightfall, which meant that most of her friends were already partly inebriated. But she knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep the lease on her little studio much longer, which meant she had to make the most of it while she still could.
Hope listened to them talk as she lit a cigarette, ordering a drink when the waiter came past and watching as they downed either gin or absinthe. She imagined the spirits would double as dinner for most of them.
‘Has anyone sold anything this month?’ Hope asked, when there was a break in conversation.
She received a collective headshake in response, and she sat back and listened as someone started talking about a new gallery that was opening. Like most nights they got together, it was hard not to feel despondent. She’d thought her paintings were special,that she’d be able to impress gallery owners in Paris and keep herself afloat without needing a man. But she was starting to see that making a name for herself in the art world wasn’t going to be easy, if she ever managed to do it at all.
The waiter came with her drink and she smiled her thanks, lifting it to her lips and taking a small sip. She was starting to wonder if she’d be able to last a year trying to make a name for herself, or if she might have just been better off becoming a maid in one of the big houses she’d seen when she walked to work each morning.
But no matter what happened, anything was better than going home.
12
PRESENT DAY
Mia stood outside the restaurant, looking at the crowd inside. Their laughter and conversation drifted through the open door, as a small handful of people made their way outside to smoke.
What am I doing here?She didn’t know this man, and yet she’d made a deal with him that in hindsight seemed like the plot of a bad romantic comedy. But still, she’d found herself getting dressed and ready, because he felt like the one person who could actually point her in the right direction. She refused to admit that it was because she wanted to see him again. Like she’d already told herself, he was nothing more than a handsome stranger.
She’d had a magical day in Paris, exploring and walking countless steps as she took in the sights, her camera hanging around her neck. She’d marvelled at the Eiffel Tower and stopped for coffee and a croissant, and she’d even taken a photo of a street intersection that had caught her eye. Not for the first time since she’d landed in France, she felt that glimmer of the old her. Mia didn’t ever want to fully let go of the past, but every little step forward felt like she was moving forward with her life. And Paris was certainly the most beautiful city to get lost in and rediscover herself.
‘Vous êtes ici pour la fête?’
Hope turned at the feminine voice behind her, pulled from her thoughts and coming eye to eye with a blonde, her hair pulled back into a bun and a scarf tied around her neck. She was so effortlessly French, and Mia hoped that her silk slip dress and blazer was chic enough. She’d only bought the dress that day, from a little boutique that had caught her eye, since she hadn’t exactly packed anything suitable for a Paris party as the date of a gorgeous man.
