Buying a Piece of Paris by Ellie Nielsen

Author:Ellie Nielsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIO026000, TRV000000, TRV009050
Publisher: Scribe Publications
Published: 2007-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

It is just after midday as we walk down the boulevard Saint-Germain searching for the agency recommended by Monsieur Rolland. There are people everywhere, bustling around in the hot afternoon sun. It’s hard not to be distracted by them and the elegant shops with their sale signs. Absolutely everything is ‘en soldes’.

‘I haven’t even had time to set foot into a shop,’ I say, coveting all the adorable little dresses in the window of Baby Dior as we sail past. ‘I’m missing all the sales.’

‘Well, you can’t go to the sales and buy apartments,’ says Jack, relieved.

Agence Immobilière Qualité is a large, confident-looking establishment. We scan the photographs in the window for possibilities.

‘They’re spending a bit on presentation here,’ says Jack. ‘I don’t know if that’s good or bad.’

‘Well, at least we know what to do now,’ I say. ‘Just choose a photograph, make an offer, and voilà.’

‘It’s all very well for him,’ says, Jack moving onto the second window. ‘Here we are, have a look at this.’

We read through the specifications of an apartment near the Jardin des Plantes. The photograph shows high ceilings, an impressive stone fireplace, and long windows flooded with sunlight. It’s 95 square metres with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a leafy courtyard, and costs four hundred and ten thousand euros. Excitement quickens through us.

‘That looks alright,’ says Jack.

‘It’s gorgeous.’ I read through the details again. ‘How come it isn’t sold? There must be something wrong with it.’

‘You’d better go in and find out.’

‘Now? Do we have time?’

I look past the photographs to my reflection.

‘You look fine. We’ve got ten minutes or so. Just keep calm and don’t get side-tracked.’

‘Why do I always look fine?’

‘Okay. You look lovely.’

‘You’re just saying that.’

‘You’re only going into a real estate agent’s office.’

‘Even so.’ I straighten my dress and sashay through the door.

‘Hello,’ I say, surprising myself and the young woman who sits at the reception desk, ‘I’m Australian and I want to buy an apartment in Paris.’

I beam at her so optimistically that her surprise gives way to astonishment.

‘Oui. Yes, madame.’ She looks around the spacious reception. ‘Je, I will …’ She points in the direction of an adjacent office. ‘I’m sorry. I have no English.’

She walks hurriedly across to the door, knocks, and disappears inside. I stand in the empty room congratulating myself. That wasn’t difficult. Just say who you are and why you’re here — that’s the way to get things moving.

Mademoiselle steps cautiously back into the reception followed by a tall, attractive man who smiles and introduces himself.

‘Bonjour, madame. My name is Delemer. Henri Delemer.’

He sounds like a painter. He looks a bit like one, too, with his unruly hair and intense gaze.

‘Enchantée, Monsieur Delemer. Je suis Ellie Nielsen.’

‘Vous parlez français?’

‘I try to, but it’s difficult.’

He smiles at me. ‘I am the same. English, it is difficult, too.’

Monsieur Henri Delemer is très intéressant. He reminds me of the actor Daniel Auteuil. Not that I actually know Daniel Auteuil — not yet anyway.

‘Fruit and vegetables are the easiest,’ I say.

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