The Little Paris Toyshop by Lauren Westwood

Author:Lauren Westwood [Westwood, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

41

SARAH

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25TH

Glass and steel, glitz and glamour. Sarah felt like she was trapped between two worlds as she waited in the foyer for her monthly catchup with Komitov. Perhaps it was the late nights, but she felt heavy and slow – and annoyed with herself. Her job was all important; she loved the possibilities it offered. Her work on the toyshop was nothing more than a diversion; a favour for a friend. Franz… not Tomas.

The incident at the bookshop had unsettled her. The time she spent with Tomas was like the swift brushstrokes of an impressionist painting – exquisite present moments that slipped away into a brief shared past. There was no time before, and no promise of an after. But although he’d told her the bare bones of his history, she sensed that there were layers that were hidden from her. His story about his author mystique as an ‘international man of mystery’ made sense, she supposed, and it was understandable that he might be careful with publicity. But his reaction had seemed over the top, and not at all like the Tomas she knew. Or thought she did…

‘Ah chérie… so nice to see you.’ Komitov’s greeting included an unctuous hug and a kiss that landed at the edge of her lips. She forced herself to smile – and be grateful that Paris rarely seemed to be on her boss’s itinerary.

‘I have heard you are settling in well to the new job,’ he said. ‘And I am eager to discuss the future.’

‘Yes.’ Sarah managed. ‘Me too.’

‘And your fiancé? He is well?’

His eyes flicked to her bare finger. Sarah winced. ‘Yes. Very.’

‘Good, good. And since you are, as they say, “on the ground” in Paris, I have someone for you to meet. He ushered her into his office with a flourish. A well-groomed older man in an impeccable suit was standing by the window looking out at the view. As he turned to face them, she felt strangely cold.

‘Have you met Monsieur Rouveau?’ Komitov said, directing her to a chair across the desk.

Rouveau. The name sounded familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

‘We have not yet had the pleasure,’ the older man said. ‘Though I am familiar with your work on the St. Jacques. Which is why I am here. I have an opportunity that may be of interest to your organisation.’

‘Good, good,’ Komitov said.

Sarah stayed silent. Rouveau launched his presentation onto a projection screen. Instantly, Sarah’s pulse quickened. She recognised the location: the tangled streets, the empty shops.

The situation was straightforward. Rouveau owned a number of vacant properties. The former tenants had mostly retired, though, Rouveau admitted, one or two of them had required ‘incentives’ to hand over their keys. His slides showed architect’s drawings for a street of sleek, cookie-cutter shops and a modern hotel.

Sarah did all she could to keep calm and collected. When the presentation ended, Rouveau handed out a hard copy of the proposal, and Sarah posed a few questions. Did the council support the

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