An English Vet in Paris
Autorzy
Kate Hardy
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17,2K
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11
CHAPTER ONE
‘ANT, I NEED your help.’
Why would the Zoo de Belvédère’s head of human resources need his help? Antoine Bouvier was more used to one of the zookeepers coming in to ask him to check on an animal. Unless Marie was worrying about the health of one of her own pets, perhaps, and wanted his professional advice; but he couldn’t remember her ever mentioning a cat, a dog or even a goldfish. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, saving the file of the notes he was writing up.
‘I brought you coffee just the way you like it.’ She set the mug on his desk.
Uh-oh. This was phase one of Marie getting what she wanted: softening him up with a kindness. Ant had seen her do this with other people. Next, she’d use his name a lot: too much, in fact. Then she’d get to the subject of what she wanted and spin it to sound as if it was his idea. Finally, she’d close the deal before he could object, thank him, and swan off again before he had a chance to say a word. ‘Thank you,’ he said, polite yet wary. ‘What did you want?’
‘It’s the English vet.’
The one who was starting on Monday for six months’ job enrichment; their zoo in Paris was twinned with a zoo in Cambridge, and Geraldine Milligan, one of the junior vets from the English zoo, was joining his team. ‘She’s changed her mind and she’s not coming?’
‘No.’ Marie looked awkward. ‘The problem’s with her accommodation, Ant. The windows in her apartment were meant to be replaced this week, but the builder found asbestos. The surveyor says it needs to be removed safely before anyone can live there. We’re talking weeks. And finding her suitable accommodation at this late notice...’ She shook her head and grimaced. ‘I was wondering, Ant, could she possibly stay with you?’
‘With me?’ Ant stared at Marie, surprised.
‘You have a spare room, Ant,’ she pointed out.
In the townhouse in Montmartre that he’d inherited from his grandmother, two years ago; he’d been hugely grateful at the time, because it had cushioned him from some of the fallout from the wedding-that-didn’t-happen. At least he’d had somewhere to go. Somewhere to lick his wounds. A space to call his own that didn’t have any memories of Céline.
‘And it would be a kind gesture, Ant, as well as helping the team to bond,’ she added.
All of that was true but, apart from the annoying overuse of his name, Ant had a major reservation. ‘Surely it’d be awkward for her to stay with a man she’s never met or had any real contact with?’ The zoo’s veterinary director, whose job involved negotiation and admin rather than working with animals nowadays, had arranged the secondment; Ant was simply going along with it as part of his job.
‘You’re both professionals, Ant,’ Marie said crisply. ‘I can’t see why it would be a problem for her to stay with a colleague.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better if she stayed with one of the female members of staff?’ He thought of their younger veterinary nurse. ‘What about Valerie?’
Marie narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Valerie lives with her parents. I can hardly impose on them, Ant.’
But she could impose on him?
As if she’d guessed what he was thinking, she said, ‘It’s only for a few weeks, Ant. I’m sure Dr Milligan won’t be any trouble.’
Yeah, right. A woman he knew little about, other than that she was a qualified vet, had a Masters in Exotic Veterinary Medicine, and his counterpart in Cambridge was impressed enough with her skills to suggest to their director that she’d be a good addition to the team. Plus Ant had grown used to having his own space. Sharing with someone else would be strange.
‘And, at this time of year, Ant, finding a hotel wouldn’t be easy,’ Marie continued.
Spring in Paris. The time the tourists loved most. She had a valid point.
‘A few weeks,’ he said. Which meant what exactly?
Before he could ask for clarification, Marie beamed at him. ‘Excellent. I knew we could rely on you, Ant. Thank you very much.’
Wait, what? He hadn’t agreed to anything—had he?
But he also knew that Marie was a bulldozer. It was great when you needed something done and she was working on your team; the flip side was that it was rather less great when you were on the receiving end of her pushiness.
‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I had another solution, Ant,’ Marie said.
He didn’t think that was strictly true, but he wasn’t going to waste time with an argument he knew he’d never win.
‘Her train gets in to the Gare du Nord at three on Sunday afternoon.’ Marie gave him the sweetest of smiles.
‘I’ll meet her at the station.’ He didn’t really have much choice. If Dr Milligan was staying with him, she’d need a key to his apartment. He could hardly tell her to wait on the doorstep or in a nearby café; besides, it wouldn’t be fair to expect her to take the Métro across Paris and then find her way from the station at Montmartre to his place, particularly with a pile of luggage. ‘Perhaps you could let her know the situation. And ask her for permission to give me her phone number so I can contact her to make arrangements. Give her my number, too, in case she needs to contact me about anything urgently.’
‘Thank you, Ant. You’re one of the good guys,’ Marie said. She patted his shoulder and breezed—hurricaned, he thought ruefully—out of the office, her mission accomplished and leaving Ant’s thoughts in complete disarray.
Sharing his space for a few weeks.
Even if Dr Geraldine Milligan turned out to be the easiest houseguest in the universe, it still meant a huge change to his life. Something that brought back memories. Something that filled him with trepidation.
The notes could wait a while. He needed to get his head round this. And the best way he knew of dealing with things that made him antsy was to go and see the tigers. Specifically Bianca, the white Bengal tiger who’d joined the Zoo de Belvédère on the same day that he had, eight years ago. As the zoo vet, Ant wasn’t supposed to have favourites, but he loved the big cats, and he’d seen Bianca through three litters of cubs now; he’d been keeping a closer eye on her for the last few months, since she’d developed a liver condition. Maybe the walk over to the tigers’ enclosure would help him clear his head enough to work out how he was going to deal with the situation.
The Betjeman statue at St Pancras Station was the perfect place to say goodbye to her family, Geri thought: public enough to stop her bawling her eyes out. And she really appreciated the fact that her parents and her little sister were here to wave her off.
‘Geri, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’ her father, Ben Milligan, asked. ‘It’s OK to change your mind if you need to. We can sort everything out.’
It reminded Geri of the speech her dad had made on her wedding day, about marrying Mark and she could change her mind. She’d said she was sure, back then. And here she was, five years later: divorced, and heartbroken...
She shook herself. Enough of the pity party. You couldn’t change the past, but you could make the future better. And of course she’d made the right decision. She’d had a bit of a wobble on Friday, when the head of HR in the Zoo de Belvédère had called her to say that there was a problem with her flat and she’d be staying with Antoine Bouvier, the senior vet, instead; but then again maybe it would be good to stay in a family home rather than feeling completely alone and a bit homesick in a strange city.
Focus on the positive, she reminded herself. And the positives were always there. You only had to look for them.
‘It’s Paris in the spring, full of blossom and good coffee,’ she said brightly. ‘And it’s only for six months, Dad. A secondment. A fresh start—’ she forced her smile not to wobble ‘—and, hey, with any luck I’ll be looking after a pregnant panda. Being a zoo vet doesn’t get any better than knowing you’re going to be one of the first to see a tiny panda cub.’
Alex, Geri’s younger sister, raised her eyebrow. ‘You’re only taking one suitcase. Paris fashionistas will never let you get away with that.’
Geri laughed. ‘I don’t need to be a fashionista. Trust me, a sharp suit and Louboutins have no place when you’re anaesthetising a tiger. Anyway, if I need something posh, I can always go shopping.’
Sally, Geri’s mum, looked worried. ‘I know we’ve been through this—but Paris feels so far away, love.’
‘It’s only a couple of hours on the train. Our girl will be fine,’ Ben reassured her. He smiled at Geri. ‘If you need us, just ring—any time, day or night. We’ll be straight over.’
‘I will,’ Geri promised, mentally crossing her fingers because she knew she needed to stand on her own two feet again. Living with her parents last year while she’d done her Masters in Exotic Veterinary Medicine had meant that she’d relied way too much on them. Even this past year, after she’d moved to Cambridge, they’d fussed over her. ‘Love you, Dad. Mum. Alex.’ She hugged each of them in turn. ‘Stop worrying. Dr Bouvier is meeting me at the station. It’s all going to be fine.’ Though she was aware that she was trying to convince herself as much as her family.
‘Love you, Geri.’ Sally held her tightly.
‘Enjoy every second of Paris,’ Alex said. ‘Remember, your mission is to find the best crème brûlée in Paris, and then invite me over for lunch. In between the tigers, the pandas and the penguins, that is.’
‘Got it.’ Geri gave her parents and her sister a last hug. ‘I need to go, or they’ll close the gate. I’ll let you know when I arrive in Paris.’ Though she was pretty sure her mum would be frantically checking the location sharing app on her phone and would know the precise moment that Geri arrived at the Gare du Nord. She smiled, hoping it masked her apprehension. ‘Speak to you soon.’
Had she made a huge mistake, agreeing to a six-month secondment at the zoo in Paris? Or was this the thing that would finally help her move on from the past? The way she saw it, if she was brave enough to live in a country where she hadn’t spoken the language since her schooldays, then she could also be brave enough to be honest with her emotions. And that meant, the next time round, she’d pick someone who really did want the same things that she did. Someone who’d grow and change with her, rather than growing apart from her.
Besides, Paris in the spring would be beautiful. Plus Geri had been fascinated by giant black and white pandas since she was a tiny child, and now she had the chance to work with a panda in the zoo’s breeding programme—that was definitely a dream come true. Putting herself back out there, looking for the good things in life, would be a Very Good Thing. This year, on the anniversary of the day her life had fallen apart, she’d be somewhere with no sad memories; and maybe this year she’d cope better and finally start to put it behind her.
She didn’t look back at her family, knowing that it would test her resolve a little too much; she scanned her ticket and her passport at the barrier, then headed for the departure lounge.
Once she was settled in her seat and the train had departed, she texted Antoine Bouvier to let him know her estimated arrival time at the Gare du Nord. Then she opened the historical thriller she’d bought for the journey, but she couldn’t concentrate. Had she brought the right kind of gifts to thank her hosts? She hadn’t bought flowers, not wanting them to wilt on the journey; and bringing wine to a French family would be woefully easy to get wrong. In the end, she’d settled for some really good chocolates and a tin of biscuits from Fortnum & Mason, and maybe she could take them all out for dinner one night this week.
She silently practised the phrases she’d learned that week while brushing up her language skills: Bonjour, monsieur et madame. Merci beaucoup pour me recevoir chez vous.
Oh, for pity’s sake. She needed to ignore the apprehension causing a mass butterfly stampede in her stomach and enjoy the anticipation. This was a chance to do something she’d wanted to do for years. She was perfectly capable of negotiating life in a new city, even if her language skills were a bit rusty since her schooldays, and she’d got on well with her colleagues in Cambridge. Why would it be any different in Paris?
Stop whining and think of the positive stuff, she told herself sternly. You’re perfectly capable of doing this.
The train journey passed swiftly, and when they came out of the other side of the Channel Tunnel there was a message on her phone from Antoine Bouvier.
Turn right when you get off the train. I’ll wait for you on the west side of the station concourse.
He’d been thoughtful enough to send her a photograph of himself on Friday to help her recognise him at the station, along with a message.
Looking out for me might be a little easier than looking out for a placard with your name on it.
Geri had been surprised to see how young Dr Bouvier was. He was good-looking, in a brooding way; his dark hair had a sprinkling of grey and was cut short, his eyes were dark, and his olive skin was shadowed by a faint stubble. With a mouth that beautiful, he could’ve been a model for a perfume ad.
Not that she should be thinking of him in those terms. He was her new colleague—senior enough to be her boss, really—and he’d been kind enough to offer her a place to stay with his family.
She’d shaken off the stirrings of attraction and sent him a photograph in return, so he could look out for her on Sunday, too; and that had been the limit of their conversation until today.
At last, the train pulled into the Gare du Nord.
This was it.
Paris.
Her new start.
Adrenalin made her fingers tingle and she nearly dropped her suitcase. Cross with herself for the wobble—she wasn’t going to let the past get in the way of her new adventure in Paris—she hauled her case off the train and turned right, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of her new colleague.
Ant surveyed the people coming from the train. He recognised Geraldine Milligan from her photograph straight away, though she was a little taller and slighter than he’d expected. Her fair hair was pulled back from her face in a scrunchie; her eyes were wide and almost navy-blue, and her mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow. She was dressed casually, in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, canvas shoes and a light fleece jacket, and she looked very English.
The fact that she only had one suitcase with her surprised him. It wasn’t much for a six-month stay. Or maybe she was hedging her bets and seeing how the first few weeks went; moving to another country for six months was quite a life change.
He took a deep breath and walked towards her, holding up a hand in greeting.
She smiled when she saw him. ‘Bonjour, monsieur et...’ She tailed off, before rallying with, ‘Merci beaucoup pour me recevoir chez vous.’
He hadn’t expected Dr Milligan to speak in French, and he appreciated that she’d made the effort. ‘De rien—’ And then he had to stop. Was she mademoiselle or madame? A quick glance told him she wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was single. Not wanting to get it wrong, he switched to English. ‘You’re very welcome, Dr Milligan.’
‘Call me Geri, please.’ She held out her hand.
‘Antoine.’ He took her hand to shake it, and it felt as if he’d been galvanised. He’d never reacted to anyone like that before, even Céline, and it threw him for a moment.
‘I wasn’t sure how much luggage you’d have,’ he said, dropping her hand and hoping that she couldn’t tell how much she’d momentarily flustered him. ‘Parking isn’t great around here; I thought it’d be easiest to get a taxi back to my apartment,’ he added. ‘The queue moves fairly quickly. Shall we?’ He gestured towards the taxi rank, then went to pick up her suitcase.
‘Thanks, but I can manage my case myself,’ she said, with the kind of smile that made it clear she wasn’t being difficult.
Independent, rather, he decided. He liked that, as long as that independence was tempered with knowing to ask for help when you needed it. The welfare of the animals came before anything else, in his view. ‘Of course,’ he said.
In real life, Antoine Bouvier was even more attractive than his photograph, Geri thought. When he’d shaken her hand, it had sent a shiver of awareness down her spine, making her feel off balance; she really shouldn’t react like that towards her new colleague, particularly if he was married. The unexpected whirl of her feelings had made her a little bit snippy about her suitcase, but hopefully he wouldn’t hold the slight rudeness against her.
She followed him to the taxi rank; as he’d said, the queue moved fast, and soon he was opening the door for her to get in the back of the taxi while the driver put her case in the boot. He gave the address in rapid French, then sat next to her. Geri followed his example and looked out of the window, enjoying the views: the tall buildings with their shuttered windows and ironwork balconies, the wide cobbled streets, and the trees dappling the streets with shade. It was a far cry from the ancient narrow streets in Cambridge, dominated by the colleges and the ubiquitous cyclists.
The taxi pulled over to the kerb, and Antoine had dealt with the fare before Geri even had the chance to offer to pay. And then she was standing on the pavement, her suitcase beside her, looking up at the row of five-storey townhouses. They were built from pale stone, with wrought-iron balconies at the bottom of tall windows; there were trees along the cobbled street, and streetlights which looked like old-fashioned lanterns.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, ‘What a beautiful building. It’s so Parisian.’
Oh, way to go, Geri. How to make your new colleague think you’re a babbling idiot.
‘Thank you.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess it’s easy to take it for granted. My apartment’s on the top two floors. Bienvenue à Montmartre.’
‘Merci,’ she said with a smile.
He unlocked the door and led her through to the lobby. The lift was tiny, and the two of them only just managed to fit inside, together with her case. Geri was very, very aware of his closeness; and even more aware that the frisson down her spine was completely inappropriate. There was a huge difference between noticing the gorgeousness of a random stranger and being attracted to a new colleague who was being kind enough to let her stay with his family.
She made herself concentrate on the lift instead. It felt very French, with the glass doors looking through an ironwork grille as they rose very slowly towards the top of the building. The creaks and grinding noises sounded ominous to Geri; Antoine looked completely unbothered by them, so she decided to take her lead from him.
Not wanting to risk blurting out something inane again, she waited for him to start the conversation. Except he didn’t. By the time the lift pinged to say they’d reached their floor, she was starting to feel really awkward. Maybe Antoine was the kind of dedicated vet who was brilliant with animals but not with people; hopefully his partner would put her more at ease.
He unlocked the front door, and she followed him into a hallway.
‘We’ll leave your case here while I give you the guided tour,’ he said. ‘I guess my apartment’s a little upside down—the bedrooms, bathrooms and my study are on this floor, and the living quarters are on the floor above.’ He gestured to the first door. ‘That’s my room, but feel free to choose whichever you like of the guest rooms.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘I’ll show you upstairs first,’ he said.
Wide stairs led up to the top floor. The walls were painted a pale biscuity colour, toning with the light wooden parquet flooring. All the ceilings had moulded cornices—the kind Geri associated with ancient European palaces—and old-fashioned wrought-iron and glass chandeliers; the tall windows meant that the rooms were full of light. The dining room was at the front of the apartment, overlooking the street, with a narrow wrought-iron balcony that ran the length of the building and held terracotta planters stuffed with red geraniums. There was a table and six chairs in the centre of the room, a traditional French sideboard that she guessed was antique and a grandfather clock that ticked loudly.
The dining room led into the living room, which was furnished with a couple of sofas, a thick Persian rug and an armoire; there were framed botanical prints on the walls, and an ornate mirror above the mantelpiece. Geri couldn’t see any personal touches: no bookshelves, no photographs, or anything to suggest that this was a family home. This was strange. She was sure Marie had said Antoine Bouvier was married...or had she assumed it, because he was the senior vet at the zoo and her own boss in Cambridge was married with grown-up children?
‘The fireplace is gorgeous,’ she said. The old-fashioned black-leaded fireplace had a stone hearth with two wrought-iron sphinx firedogs flanking it. ‘Do you have an open fire in winter?’
Antoine shook his head. ‘My grandparents did, when I was small, but central heating’s much less messy. Though I couldn’t quite part with the fireplace during the renovations. Come and see the terrace.’ He led her through to an enormous kitchen with a red-tiled floor, old-fashioned shelving and cupboards and a butler’s sink but what looked like very high-tech white goods. He unlocked the back door, and she was thrilled to see a comfortable roof garden shaded with huge plants in equally huge pots, and a wrought-iron bistro table and a couple of chairs.
‘It looks like the perfect place to sit and read on a summer evening.’
‘With a glass of wine,’ he agreed. ‘Yes, it’s pretty much perfect.’
‘I’m really grateful to you and your partner for letting me stay,’ she said. ‘Finding another flat at such short notice would’ve been a bit daunting.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Though I should perhaps advise you now that I don’t have a partner.’
She winced. ‘I apologise. I thought...’ Wrongly. Hideous embarrassment at her gaffe flooded through her, and she could feel the colour bursting into her cheeks. ‘I’m terribly sorry.’
‘Not a problem,’ Ant said. ‘I should’ve mentioned it earlier.’ Though, if his fiancée hadn’t fallen in love with his brother, then he would still have had a partner. Maybe they would’ve had a baby, by now. A little girl who’d sit on his shoulders and beam in delight when he took her to see the tigers...
But things were as they were. And he needed to put his houseguest at her ease.
He took a deep breath. ‘I did suggest to Marie that you might be more comfortable sharing with someone who wasn’t a single male you’d never met before, but she seemed to think we could both be professional about the situation.’
‘Of course,’ Geri said swiftly.
‘If you prefer, I can call in a favour and stay with friends until you’ve found somewhere.’
‘No, no—it’s fine.’
Though it clearly wasn’t, because she looked flustered.
‘You’re perfectly safe with me,’ he said, wanting to reassure her that he wasn’t going to make unwanted advances.
A tide of deep red swept through her face for the third time since he’d met her. She definitely wasn’t the type who could hide her feelings easily, then.
Unlike Céline, who’d hidden a huge, huge secret until their wedding day—and then it had all come out in the most hurtful way.
Not that he was going to think about his ex. Or his brother. It was over and finished with.
‘Of course I know I’m safe with you. I wouldn’t have thought anything else,’ Geri said. ‘I’m very grateful that you’re letting me stay here, even though it’s all been last-minute and it must be putting you out. And it was really kind of you to meet me, though I still owe you for the taxi.’
‘De rien,’ he said, realising that he hadn’t managed to stop her feeling awkward. His sister was right: he needed to brush up his social skills. ‘It’s fine. Really. The taxi was the least I could do. May I offer you some coffee? Wine?’
‘Coffee would be lovely,’ she said, looking grateful.
‘I’ll make it while you choose your room,’ he said. Hopefully that would give them both some breathing space.
She followed him into the kitchen, where he took beans from the fridge.
‘You don’t need to go to that much trouble for me,’ she said. ‘Instant coffee’s fine.’
‘Instant?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘This is Paris.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with instant coffee.’
Oh, but there was. He had experience of English instant coffee, and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. ‘Let’s agree to disagree,’ he said. ‘I’ll make coffee. Go and have a look downstairs. Oh—and you need a key to the apartment.’ He took the spare one from the kitchen drawer and handed it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
He’d ground the beans and the coffee was brewed to perfection when she came back into the kitchen. ‘I chose the smaller guest room,’ she said. ‘I hope that’s all right.’
The room furthest from his. Which was a good thing—and a bad one, at the same time. He’d wanted her to choose the room because she liked it, not for any other reason. ‘That’s fine.’
‘And I brought these from London as a small gesture of appreciation for having me.’ She handed him a tin of biscuits and a box of chocolates; both bore the logo and signature colour of a very upmarket London department store. ‘I thought I could take you out to dinner, to say thank you.’
‘That’s kind of you, but there was really no need to bring me anything. I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me if I’d come to Cambridge on secondment and stayed with you. Do you take milk, sugar?’ He gestured to the coffee pot.
‘Neither, thanks.’ She accepted a cup of coffee and let him usher her onto the terrace.
‘You have a beautiful apartment,’ she said. ‘I love the mix of ancient and modern. You said you renovated it?’
‘Not all with my own hands. I hired builders to do the structural stuff,’ he said.
‘They did a good job. It’s beautifully decorated—I loved those voile drapes at the window in my room. And the bathroom—the shape of the tiles on the floor reminds me of a honeycomb.’
‘I was very nearly forced to include tiles with bees.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘They were my sister Amélie’s choice. It’s her room.’
Geri’s eyes widened with obvious anxiety. ‘Oh! Sorry. If you need me to move into a different room...’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t come to Paris that often, and only at certain times of the year. Fortunately for me, most of the time she’s too busy making wine to come here and boss me about.’ Or nag him about the family rift. He was trying to put it behind him, but he still wasn’t in a place where he could forgive.
His houseguest seemed to relax again. ‘I can relate to that, though actually I’m the bossy sister.’
Ant couldn’t imagine Geri Milligan being bossy. If anything, she’d seemed a little lost as she’d walked through the train station. Or maybe that was because she was making such a big life change, moving to a different country for six months. He wondered what had driven her to do that. What made her tick.
‘What kind of wine does your sister make?’ Geri asked.
‘Sancerre.’ He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘It’s the family business. My grandparents were winemakers, and my dad took over when they retired. When we were small, Amélie was the one who was interested in the soil and the plants; and then, as a teen, in the way the chemistry of the wine changed. I was more interested in the vineyard’s dogs and cats—and our neighbour’s rescued Poitou donkey, Bertrand,’ he added wryly.
‘It sounds as if you were always going to be a vet.’
‘Yes.’ And, when he was younger, he’d thought about going into partnership with Jean-Luc: the Bouvier brothers, veterinary surgeons. Just as well he’d been drawn to zoo medicine as a student, or his career would’ve gone the same way as his personal life.
‘I used to bandage our poor Labrador on a regular basis when I was tiny,’ Geri said, ‘but he always put up with it because I’d give him a biscuit as “medicine”.’
Ant could imagine that. And, for a moment, he could see a small child in his mind’s eye, copying her father in being a vet and ‘looking after’ the family pets... Except he wouldn’t be the child’s father. He pushed the thought away. ‘Are either of your parents vets?’
‘No. Dad’s an accountant, Mum works in admin, and my little sister’s a fitness instructor.’
‘And you’re really the bossy one?’ He still didn’t quite believe her.
She laughed. ‘Alex is bossy in her classes. I couldn’t move, the day after I did one of her aerobics sessions. But outside that she’s a bit scatty.’ She smiled. ‘I’m under instructions, though, to find the best crème brûlée in Paris for when she comes to visit.’ Her smile broadened. ‘Which is going to be fun—both the search and her visit.’
Her laugh was lovely. Bright and sparkly. Geri was clearly close to her family, and telling him about them had taken away that lost look. Ant felt a flicker of something in his veins, something he couldn’t quite pin down. A feeling so old and neglected that he barely recognised it.
He shook himself. They were talking about crème brûlée and her sister’s visit—by which time Geri would be settled in her own apartment.
‘Indeed.’ He lifted his coffee cup in a toast. ‘Welcome to Paris.’
‘Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this hugely.’
‘It’s a big change,’ he said. ‘What made you decide to come to Paris?’
Her face shuttered slightly. It was clearly something she wasn’t comfortable talking about. He could appreciate that; he didn’t like talking about bits of his life, either.
‘I’ve always been fascinated by pandas,’ she said. ‘When I had the chance to work with the international breeding programme, I jumped at it.’
That was fair enough. He was thrilled to be part of it, too. And work was a safe subject. He could handle that. ‘I’ll introduce you to the pandas and their keeper tomorrow. I thought you could shadow me for the day, to get a feel for our routine and a chance to meet the rest of the team—and I include the keepers in our team, because they’re the ones who notice when something isn’t quite right with one of the animals and tell us, meaning we can treat a problem at the earliest stages.’
‘That’s how we work in Cambridge, too.’ She looked pleased. ‘I’m really glad of the chance to broaden my knowledge. And I hope I’m bringing experience with me that will be useful to others.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ he said. ‘I’m cooking dinner for us tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘While I’m staying with you, perhaps we can take it in turns to cook—it’d be a bit of a waste of time and energy for us to cook separately, wouldn’t it? And I’m very happy to do my share of the chores.’
‘I have a cleaner,’ Ant said. ‘There’s no need for a chore rota. But, yes, if you like, we can take turns in cooking.’ She didn’t need to know that he usually grabbed something from the staff canteen at lunchtime to eat at his desk and made himself a sandwich in the evening. His family had always been excellent hosts, and he intended to keep that tradition going. ‘Are there any dietary requirements I need to know about?’
‘No. I eat most things,’ she said.
He suppressed the unexpected urge to tease her by suggesting frogs’ legs. And that in itself was unsettling, because it was a long while since he’d been tempted to tease someone. ‘I was thinking something simple. Chicken Provençal, followed by cheese and fruit?’
‘That sounds lovely,’ she said. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘No. Take your time to unpack and settle in,’ he said. ‘Dinner will be ready at seven. Would you prefer red, white or rosé wine?’
‘I like all three. Whatever you feel goes best with dinner,’ she said.
‘D’accord. See you later.’
