maverick moi?’
‘That is French, you numpty.’ Claire’s scathing words spilled out.
‘I think you’ll find it’s avec moi,’ interjected Jason with a reluctant smile.
Siena sneaked a peak at him, it wasn’t the first time he’d taken the sting out of the other girl’s sharp observations.
‘Whatevs.’ With a good natured grin, Ben added, ‘Come on, speak some Froglish. Geddit? Because you’re half and half.’
‘Ben, grow up,’ snapped Claire. ‘You’re so stupid.’
‘Bonjour Ben. C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer,’ Siena blurted out, wanting to defuse the toxic atmosphere Claire seemed determined to create. Temptation shimmered like a naughty fairy for a second. It would be quite cool if she said in French, ‘stop being a bitch,’ but Siena had a feeling that with his probing looks, which seemed to see right through her, Jason would probably get the gist.
‘Phwoar. Say some more.’ Ben moaned in pretend delight completely oblivious to the other girl’s displeasure. ‘What’s it mean?’
Siena punched him on the shoulder laughing, as Jason shook his head and the others all burst into gales of laughter. Lisa giggled like a loon. Only Claire remained unamused. She tutted.
‘Ça ne veut rien dire en particulier,’ she obliged.
‘So, what are you saying? Something really sexy I bet. It had to be. Maybe I should learn French, pull the birds. I could get one of those lesson things on my iPod. Learn while I’m at work.’
‘Oh God, please don’t,’ said Jason with a heartfelt groan. ‘It’s bad enough when you’re murdering Coldplay with your headphones on.’
‘I could teach you,’ offered Siena.
‘Seriously?’ Ben bounced in his seat like an overenthusiastic puppy. ‘Couple of chat up lines? That would be so cool.’
‘She’s not going to be here long enough,’ said Jason.
‘No,’ said Claire with a derisory snort. ‘Besides she’d be in her eighties before you picked it up.’
Ben’s face crumpled for one swift second before a cheerful mask slid into place as he said to Jason, ‘So boss, what’s the plan for Monday?’
Embarrassed for him, Siena pulled out her phone on the pretext of checking it for messages. Scanning it quickly she stuffed it back into her handbag as a fresh conversation started up. More missed calls, all from the same two numbers. She couldn’t bring herself to even text them, knowing it would unleash a flurry of communication. Normally her iPhone never left her side but lately she wanted to bury it at the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t visit Facebook, go on Twitter, post on Snapchat or Periscope. Everyone was asking where she was, with some impertinent acquaintances drawing their own conclusions. No she wasn’t in Switzerland having a secret abortion nor on an exotic island in the Pacific with a well-known tennis pro and most definitely not in hiding after a botched eyelift.
Lisa let out a squeal. ‘And you’ve got a Prada handbag and purse. They must have been a gazillion euros.’ She reached out and touched them with reverence. ‘I bid on a Prada purse on eBay. Nearly got it for forty quid and then some bitch pipped me at the last second.’
‘Don’t you hate it when that happens?’ said Katie.
The conversation focused on eBay. Siena kept quiet, not wanting to volunteer that she’d never been on eBay in her life.
‘You’re sure?’ she asked for the second time.
‘Oui, Mademoiselle. We received the instruction from the account holder. I suggest you speak to them.’
‘And I can’t use the card?’
‘No, it has been cancelled. A new one will be issued to the account holder’s address.’
Siena shook her head. Not careless then. Both her cards had been cancelled. She’d known Maman would be angry at her leaving, especially when they were due out to dinner that evening, but not this angry. What had Yves been saying to her? He could be so convincing.
With resolute determination, she switched off her phone. She wasn’t going home. Not before Harry’s birthday. She had a plan and exactly a month to get everything lined up. In the meantime, she could easily survive on this month’s allowance. Admittedly she couldn’t buy a complete new wardrobe for spring, but she could make a start.
For a minute she stared out of the window. An idea popped into her head and grabbing the pad she always kept to hand, she quickly sketched a tall willowy figure and outlined the dress. Cowl neck. Mid length pencil skirt, with hem dropped at one side. Three-quarter-length sleeves. After ten minutes, she put the pad down.
She groaned out loud. It wasn’t right. What she saw in her head didn’t translate onto paper.
Which is why she needed so desperately to go to college. This week she’d arrange an appointment at the London School of Fashion. With her fashion knowledge and contacts in Paris it shouldn’t be too difficult to get accepted on one of their courses starting next year. Then she could go back and present Maman with a fait accompli. She was too young to get married yet.
In the meantime, she needed to find a bank and withdraw some sterling.
She grabbed the last clean towel from the guest stack – she’d have to ask Jason for some more – headed into the bathroom and ran smack into him.
Her mouth dried. Ça alors! With a white towel wrapped very, very low around his waist, dark hair dusting a mighty fine, firm chest and then tapering down there, he brought her to a dead stop. Her heart jumped in her chest, the irregular rhythm vibrating like a Mexican jumping bean. Last time he’d been half naked, she’d been too worried about her own nudity to take much in.
She took in a breath to steady herself. How ridiculous. She’d seen, almost seen, naked men before. She’d even slept with one or two. It wasn’t like she was some blushing virgin, although her experience was pretty limited. Before Yves, they had been lights off, fleeting encounters. Certainly never up, close and personal with a tank load of raw virility chucked in.
‘Seen enough?’ The initial irritation on his face, half covered in white shaving foam which accentuated his tanned skin, had given way to suppressed amusement.
‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you were in here.’
Almost mesmerised by his chest, she realised she’d clenched her hands tight to her sides, to stop her reaching up to touch the smooth skin. The cramped room meant there was very little room to manoeuvre with him standing in front of the sink.
‘I think we might need to establish some ground rules. Starting with not barging into the bathroom without knocking.’
‘You did it to me the other day.’
Jason
