Twice Upon a Time (17 page)

A few tourists stared at him as they walked past, intrigued by the beautiful people fighting in a public place.

But Gus didn’t register their stares. All he felt was Cinda’s condemnation and the certainty that she was absolutely, one hundred per cent right about everything.

19

Cinda walked into the apartment and threw her bag onto the marble table. She was still fuming. She saw Jonas at the end of the hallway, eating an apple.

‘What’s up?’ he asked and made sympathetic face. ‘Bad day at the Louvre?’

‘Gus is what’s up. He is such a prick, I can’t even begin to understand how identical twins could be so different.’

‘He’s an angry young prince, that’s for sure. Unlike our happy prince in Africa,’ said Jonas. ‘Speaking of which, have you heard from him yet?’

Cinda shook her head, trying not to let Jonas see her disappointment. ‘He’s in a really remote area,’ she said, hoping it was true. ‘I expect I’ll get some sort of word soon.’

‘Perhaps he’ll send smoke signals or a homing pigeon,’ said Jonas unhelpfully.

‘Hey, how was the interview?’ she asked as they went into Jonas’s room and flopped on the queen-sized bed together.

‘It was okay,’ said Jonas. ‘I think they only saw me as a favour to Petra though. She buys so much from them.’

‘Did you show them your sketches?’

‘Yeah, but they didn’t really want to talk about them,’ he said, a little vaguely.

Cinda narrowed her eyes and looked at him. ‘What did they want to talk about then?’

‘You.’

Cinda rolled over onto her back, remembering Gus’s words from the garden.

‘And what did you say?’

‘I said they should call you if they wanted to know anything.’

Cinda rolled back onto her stomach. ‘Thanks, babe.’

‘I’d never sell you out. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ she said, squeezing his hand.

‘In other news, we’ve been invited to a party tonight,’ said Jonas, getting up and retrieving a cream card with gold lettering from his bag. ‘Perrette de Jaucourt requests our company at her cocktail party.’

‘Perrette?’ asked Cinda with a frown.

‘Gus’s girlfriend. We have to meet her. I googled her and she looks like a total bitch. I think we’re gonna have a blast,’ he said happily. ‘I love bitches. And French bitches seem much more fun than the Sydney ones.’

Cinda rolled her eyes. ‘If I have to see him again I may not be able to control myself,’ she said. ‘I want to slap his arrogant face.’

‘That sounds dramatic,’ Jonas said. ‘I hope I get to see it.’

His phone started to ring and he picked it up, peering at the number. ‘Hello?’ he asked with a frown. He paused. ‘Yes.’ And then, ‘Darling, of course! Yes, yes, thank you. Thanks!
Au revoir
.’ He hung up.

Cinda looked at him, eyebrows raised as she waited for details.

‘That was Petra,’ said Jonas. ‘She wants to meet me for a drink tonight and she’s bringing a young designer she thinks I should meet. A guy called Gideon.’ He gave a short, hysterical laugh, which Cinda knew was a sign he was nervous.

‘Is this Gideon for work or pleasure?’

‘Hopefully both,’ said Jonas and then his face fell. ‘But now I can’t go to the party at Perrette’s.’

‘That’s okay, I wasn’t in the mood anyway,’ said Cinda. There was no way she was going to put herself in Gus’s firing line again, even though she had plenty more she could have said to that arrogant man. But she wouldn’t do it, for Ludo’s sake. It wasn’t his fault his brother was so awful.

‘Go on, you have to check it out for me,’ pouted Jonas.

‘I don’t have to do anything, least of all schmooze with Prince Prick and Princess Parrot,’ she said, sitting up and looking at her phone, willing Ludo to call her.

‘You’re no fun,’ Jonas said as he went off to the bathroom and Cinda went back to her room. She opened the French doors to the tiny balcony overlooking the city.

Paris was so beautiful, even more beautiful now she was living there. The queen was right, not that Cinda would ever admit as much. It was different, having the keys to a home, admittedly a stunningly beautiful apartment that was on loan only. It made her see the city in a totally different way.

Dusk was falling over the city and Cinda was trying to memorise the light hitting the slates rooftops when her phone rang. She moved inside to find her phone.

‘Hello?‘

‘Cinda?’

‘Ludo!’ she gasped, sitting on the side of her bed, relief at the sound of his voice flooding through her. ‘How are you?’

‘Hot,’ he laughed. ‘So many bugs here, I’m covered in polka dots.’

Cinda laughed, and felt her eyes filling with tears.

‘How is Paris?’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, thinking of Gus’s cruel words at the gardens but deciding not to cause more trouble between the brothers.

‘Have you seen Gus?’

‘Briefly.’

There was a pause. It suddenly seemed hard to find words.

‘Perrette asked me to a cocktail party,’ she said, to make conversation.

‘That’ll be fun,’ said Ludo, sounding totally unconvinced.

‘No it won’t,’ said Cinda with a small laugh. ‘I’m not going.’

‘But you must go,’ said Ludo firmly.

‘Why?’ Cinda looked at the balcony, thinking she would rather jump off it than go.

‘Because then everyone will see how wonderful you are,’ said Ludo, his voice breaking up a little. It wasn’t a great line.

‘I don’t think it matters,’ said Cinda. ‘People have already made up their minds about me.’

‘That’s not true. Please go, do me proud. Let them see how wonderful you . . . ’

‘Ludo?’

For a moment Cinda thought Ludo was trying to find the right word. Then she realised the line had cut out.

She was left looking at her silent phone.

‘Bloody hell,’ she said as she walked down to Jonas’s room and opened the door.

Jonas was wearing an elegant shirt and jeans and his new loafers. He picked up his navy pea coat and put it over his arm.

‘You look so Euro-chic,’ said Cinda.

‘I know,’ he said without arrogance. ‘When in Paris – well, you know the rest.’

‘That was Ludo on the phone. I have to make an appearance at this party. For him,’ said Cinda, rolling her eyes.

Jonas’s phone beeped with a text. He read it and glanced up at Cinda.

‘Petra is here,’ he said, distracted, and rushed towards the door.

‘Wait, what do I wear?’ she called.

He turned with his hand on the door handle, considering her for a moment. ‘Black. Conservative and black. You can’t go wrong.’

And then he was gone.

So much for my fairy godfather
, she thought as she padded back into her room to hunt through her clothes for a black outfit dressy enough for a cocktail party.

One maxi dress in black and white. One black skirt, one black T-shirt, one black chiffon shirt, one black pair of flat shoes that were a little worn from trekking around Rome in them.

It wasn’t long before she had to get ready. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and put on the black skirt and chiffon shirt, tucking the shirt in and putting a pretty red scarf around her waist as a belt.

Piling her arms with her bracelets, she put on heavier make-up for night-time and slipped on the flat shoes. It wasn’t the best look she’d ever created but it would pass, she decided, as she picked up her phone, keys and wallet and put them into a small bag.

Taking the invitation from the mantelpiece in Jonas’s room, she went downstairs and hailed a cab.

It wasn’t long before the car pulled up at the front of what looked like a mini-chateau. She felt nervous as she paid the driver and got out of the car. She checked her phone, hoping for something from Ludo – or her mother or Jonas. Any distraction would have been welcome. But there were no messages so, with a sigh, she slowly climbed the steps to the front door.

Just as she was about to press the doorbell, the door opened and a very skinny woman in a one-shouldered dove-grey silk dress looked at Cinda as though she were wearing a spacesuit.

‘You’re late,’ the woman said in her French accent.

‘Am I?’ If Cinda was late, it was only by a few minutes.

‘He only just told me you were coming. Put your things down, I need help,‘ she said, pointing to a small antechamber where a few bags and coats lay.

Cinda put down her bag and stepped out into the foyer again. This must be Perrette. And obviously Ludo had called to say she would be attending the party. Wanting to appear helpful, Cinda forced herself to smile at Perrette.

‘How can I help?’ she asked brightly.

‘Hand out the canapés,’ snapped Perrette, looking at Cinda as though she was stupid. ‘My fiancé needs me to help him with small talk. Now,
vite
!
Vite
!’ she said, almost pushing Cinda towards the kitchen.

Ludo better thank me for this
, she thought as she headed into the bustling, gleaming kitchen, where a chef was barking orders to the black-clad waitstaff.

‘Hi, I’m Cinda,’ she said to one girl who ignored her and instead pressed a silver tray of tiny pieces of toast into Cinda’s hands.

Cinda sighed and walked out into the cavernous main living area where the guests were mingling. She saw Gus clinking champagne glasses with someone and laughing easily.

Deciding to stay away from him, she went the other way and started to hand out the canapés.

‘Hi, I’m Cinda’ she said brightly as she greeted each new group of people, but they just took the morsel of food and went back to speaking in French.

Even if these people didn’t speak English, they were still being rude. She thought of the parties her mum used to throw. Cinda had always loved helping with the food, partly so she could eat half of it, but mainly because it was a great chance to catch up with people all around the room.

These people might be rich
, she thought,
but they are severely
lacking in manners.
She walked over and put the tray on the gleaming grand piano and took a drink from a waiter who was passing with a tray of full glasses.

She sipped the champagne, watching the crowd. Everyone was very elegant, which made her feel dowdy in her cheap Topshop skirt and flat shoes.

The women were also very thin, she noticed, and decided against the pâté on toast that a waitress was handing out nearby.

‘What are you doing?’

Perrette was glaring at her.

‘Having a drink,’ said Cinda. ‘I’m happy to help, but I thought –‘

‘I told you to hand out food,’ snapped Perrette.

‘Everything okay?’ Gus asked, moving over to where they were standing and looking from Perrette to Cinda and back again.

‘This waitress is neglecting her duties and drinking my champagne,’ whispered Perrette. ‘You’re fired, now leave before you create a scene.’

Cinda gave a short laugh. It suddenly all made sense. She looked over at Gus, who seemed torn between anger and laugher.

‘Perrette!’ he gasped. ‘This isn’t a waitress. This is Lucinda Bloom, the one I told you about,’ he said, his comment heavily weighted so Cinda was pretty certain of what he had said about her. It was unlikely to have been complimentary.

Perrette’s nostrils flared like a horse’s. ‘Lucinda, what an awful mistake,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I just assumed,’ she looked Cinda up and down, ‘by the way you were dressed, that you were the help.’

Cinda stared at Perrette and then looked her up and down in the same way. ‘And I assumed, by the way you were dressed, that you were your mother. So I guess we both fucked up, huh?’

She put her glass down on the piano, not bothering to put a napkin underneath it, and walked through the crowd to the antechamber to pick up her bag.

‘Cinda, wait,’ she heard Gus call from behind her. He followed her into the room and shut the door behind them.

‘Perrette made a mistake.’

‘I know, and so did I in coming here,’ said Cinda cheerfully, although inside she doubted she had ever been made to feel so small. ‘I don’t mind being mistaken for the help. A job is a job. But please tell Perrette I will be invoicing her for my time. I value myself too much to work for free.’

‘Don’t be like that, Cinda,’ Gus said, his face pained. ‘Please come out and meet some people. I think you might like them.’

Cinda shook her head. ‘No, thank you,’ she said and, picking up her bag, she pushed past him, making it out the front door and down the steps as the tears of humiliation started to fall.

She bumped into someone on their way up the stairs. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, moving past.

‘Cinda?’ she heard, and she turned to look up.

‘Alex?’ She hardly recognised her, now wearing a beautiful beaded wrap and lilac chiffon cocktail dress.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Alex with a frown. ‘Come inside and we can talk.’

Cinda shook her head. ‘I can’t.’ She stared to cry properly now.

Alex turned and led her to a slick car that was parked a few doors down. The driver was leaning against the car door, but hopped back in upon seeing Alex and Cinda.

‘Hop in, I’m taking you home.’

‘But you’ll miss the party,’ Cinda said, hunting around for a tissue in her bag.

‘I can go to a party any night. The main reason I came tonight was to see if you would be here,’ said Alex with a brilliant smile.