once in a while? ‘But I’d like champagne.’
‘Of course you would.’
She ignored his sarcastic tone. ‘And as they probably only sell it by the bottle, I’ll pay.’
It gave her a childish satisfaction when the barman responded to her before Jason who had waved first. ‘What champagnes do you have?’
After consulting the bar menu, she placed her order and handed over her American Express. Not a great selection, but the Lanson would do. The barman made a great show of filling the ice bucket and removing the foil and wire. With the explosive pop of the cork, he glanced at the machine terminal, his face darkened.
‘Sorry madam, your card’s been declined.’
Siena looked down at the card machine. ‘How annoying. C’est la vie. Try this one.’
She leaned on the Perspex bar, tracing the pattern of crystals. It really was very pretty. If it weren’t for keeping off the radar she would have put a photo on Snapchat to show her friends in Paris, although half of them had probably gone to Cannes this weekend.
‘That’s been declined too.’
‘Are you sure? That’s odd.’ She gave him a what-can-one-do smile. He looked a lot less friendly all of a sudden. ‘Do you want to try again? It’s never happened before.’
‘Did you tell your credit card companies you were popping over to England for the weekend? Maybe that’s why they’re not working,’ suggested Jason.
‘Don’t be silly.’ She patted his arm. ‘I was in New York last month, Whistler two months before that. I don’t need to tell them. I’m always travelling.’
‘To have one declined …’ His lips twitched.
She shot him a withering look.
‘I might be,’ she was going to use the word impetuous but paused, ‘spontaneous,’ that sounded better, ‘but I’m not careless. And yes I have read Oscar Wilde.’
Digging into her bag again, she pulled out her Credit Lyonnais debit card. ‘How about this?’
‘Not an English bank, so do you have your passport?’
How annoying, she’d only taken it out of her handbag five minutes before she left the house, thinking it would be safer left in the bedside drawer.
‘You do realise I’ve opened a seventy quid bottle of fizz that you can’t pay for.’ Goodbye customer service, hello pissed off barman. His earlier smiling obsequiousness had been replaced with sharp-eyed cynical scepticism.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She shrugged and rolled her eyes at him with a half-laugh. ‘Of course I can pay for it. Your card machine can’t be working properly. I’ve travelled all over the world and this has never happened before.’
‘It’s happened now.’
She opened her purse again. ‘Look, I’ve got euros. You can have those.’
The barman’s lip curled. ‘Do I look French? Does this place look like we’re in Spain? Does it say euros accepted here?’ He paused, lifting his chin with a pugnacious sneer. ‘No. It does not.’
He didn’t have to be quite so mean. ‘Look, it’s a genuine mistake. I can afford it, easily.’ For goodness sake, her stepfather owned a vineyard and estate outside Epernay and her monthly allowance would more than cover the cost of several cases of vintage Dom Perignon.
‘Doesn’t look like it from here.’
‘I’ve tried to pay. It’s not my fault nothing is working and you won’t accept euros or my bank card. I really don’t know what you expect me to do.’ Siena kept her tone low and reasonable, trying to ignore the curious glances and open stares being sent her way.
‘Obviously,’ the man’s voice had got much louder, as if he deliberately wanted to humiliate her, ‘I want you to pay up.’ He leaned over the bar towards her, his eyes sparkling with sudden malice. ‘Otherwise it’s going to have to be a police matter.’
Her heart rate rocketed. Her palms were suddenly clammy. She’d never been in this sort of situation before. His angry face reminded her of Yves when he didn’t get his own way.
‘Enough.’ Jason’s voice cut through with strident authority, making her jump. ‘She’s not exactly a hardened criminal and you are being unnecessarily unpleasant. Stick it on this card and while you’re at it, I’ll have a large glass of house red and a pint of Becks.’
The barman frowned and took Jason’s card, shooting Siena a look of disgust.
‘Thank you,’ she said letting out a huge breath, she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding on to. The relief was almost painful. ‘That’s really kind of you. I will pay you back. I promise.
‘I’m sure you will.’ He shook his head. ‘Prick.’
‘I suppose he had some right to be cross.’ Her legs felt slightly shaky.
‘He didn’t have to be such a dick about it or be so horrible. I hate bullies and I hate men that bully women even more. Are you OK?’ He studied her face with a penetrating look and she very nearly said, ‘You wouldn’t like Yves’.
Instead she nodded ducking her head, not wanting him to see her face.
His voiced softened and nearly finished her off. ‘Why don’t you go join the others, send Ben over and we’ll bring the drinks back?’
Giving him a tremulous smile, she did as he suggested.
It wasn’t until she’d almost finished the first glass of fizz, she started to felt more like herself again. Everyone else had loosened up too. The volume in the bar had increased five-fold since they’d arrived and it took considerable effort to wriggle through the crowd to get to the very plush toilets.
‘So Siena,’ Ben came and stood next to her, ‘Jason says you live in France. How come your English is so good?’
‘Because she’s English, you pillock,’ Jason ribbed him.
‘Are you?’
Siena nodded her head, amused by the relationship between them. ‘But I’ve lived in France since I was seven.’
‘What?’ Jason sounded startled. ‘But you’re Laurie’s sister. She grew up here. Went to school here. How does that work? ’
Siena shrugged. She’d rather not air the family laundry in front of an audience.
‘So say something in Frog,’ said Ben, completely oblivious to the nuances of the conversation. ‘It’s a real turn on when women talk foreign.’
Across the other side of the table, Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Only to a cretin.’
Ben ignored her. ‘Go on.’ He bounced in his seat, his enthusiasm infectious.
‘What do you
