Thirty Days in Paris: The gorgeously escapist, romantic and uplifting new novel from the Sunday Times bestselling author by Veronica Henry

Author:Veronica Henry [Henry, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781398703162
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2023-04-12T18:30:00+00:00

21

Juliet and Olivier walked, each of them with their hands in their pockets, braced against the damp as a pale mist rolled along the canal and enveloped them. Unspoken words hung heavy between them, but somehow Juliet felt as if the companionship they had once shared was still there. The complicity of former lovers, forged in intimacy. Curiosity and dread and anticipation curdled in her stomach. Was it pure vanity that had driven her to seek him out? The urge to be told he hadn’t stopped thinking about her?

One thing was certain: whatever it was that had drawn her to him in the first place was still there. Every time she glanced sideways at him, she felt the same jolt, the same longing. Whether he felt the same was hard to tell, but he could easily have rebuffed her.

He pointed to a small café on a corner, and they ducked inside, revelling in the warmth and the rich scent of roasting coffee. They took a pair of seats at a zinc counter, and she watched him as he ordered two espressos. He placed his elbows on the counter, steepled his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles, gazing at her with a directness that she remembered as if it was yesterday. Did she have mannerisms he remembered too? She tucked her hair behind her ears, aware this was her default reaction when she felt nervous.

‘So,’ he said, ‘what took you so long to come back?’

‘I’ve just separated from my husband,’ Juliet explained. ‘My children are abroad. I work for myself. So I decided to spend some time in Paris to … rediscover myself.’

She gave a self-deprecating smile, realising how self-indulgent it sounded, but he didn’t seem to find it pretentious.

‘I’m sorry. About your husband.’

‘It’s OK. It’s fine. We agreed it was for the best. There’s no ill feeling. We’re still very good friends.’

He lifted one eyebrow very slightly. ‘You are lucky.’

‘I know.’ Juliet smiled. She touched his arm. ‘And I’m writing a book, while I’m here. I’ve given myself thirty days to write as much as I can.’

‘It’s taken you this long?’ His smile was teasing.

‘No. I’ve written lots of other books. I’m a ghostwriter.’

He frowned. ‘A ghostwriter?’

‘I don’t know how to say it in French.’ Juliet realised she should have worked that out earlier. ‘I’m paid to write books for other people. Celebrities, usually.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded his understanding.

‘But this book is my story.’

He held her gaze. Oh God, she thought, remembering the little notebook he had given her. How often she had thought of his encouragement.

‘And what is your story, Juliet?’

Was there an edge to his voice? She felt her chest tighten.

He leaned forward. ‘I was devastated,’ he said. ‘I was waiting at the cinema for you. And you never arrived. And I never saw you again. Nathalie did not know what had happened. I went to the house, but they wouldn’t say where you had gone. I wanted to call the police, but my parents didn’t want me to.

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