Chapter 9

On her last morning in London, Helen awakened feeling strangely disoriented. The feeling stayed with her through her morning meeting with Rummy, and she decided to refuse his offer of lunch. Instead, she took the tube to South Kensington, walked the few blocks to Cromwell Road and had lunch at the restaurant in the V&A. The food was good there, and she could find a quiet corner.

Eating her salad, a man's voice interrupted her wandering thoughts.

"May I sit here?" he asked.

"Of course," Helen replied. He was round and well dressed, not unattractive and, thankfully, quiet and pleasant. They ate without much conversation. Helen sipped her wine and began to realize what was bothering her. She had planned on a night or two of pleasure with Johannes in Geneva, and they'd gone up in smoke. Then several more days in London, where she had no one to do more than talk to. She recognized the problem. 'I'm horny, ' she told herself. 'It hasn't been this bad in a long time.' Thinking of Johannes with regret, she went on in her mind, 'Guess I'll have to learn to deal with it.'

She bade a friendly goodbye to her table partner and went out onto Exhibition Road near the museum's side entrance. The day was warm for late April, although the sky was largely filled with fluffy clouds. She leaned against a tree and searched her telephone's directory for the number in Paris.

She had called René yesterday to arrange a brief meeting for this evening. When René answered her call, she said, "It's me. What's the chance of having dinner tonight?"

"Dinner, as in Dinner, or Dinner and... ?"

"I'd like to go for the and if you can manage it."

"Tell you what, Helen, meet me at the Hotel Quai Voltaire. We'll have the night."

"Great! You know I love that place. Get a front room so we can watch the Bateaux Mouches. What time?"

"When will you arrive?" Helen gave him an estimate. "I'll be there by then. See you."

She hung up and, pulling her carry-on, walked to the corner of Cromwell Road to hail a cab to Victoria Station. At Victoria, she stopped in a Boot's and bought a box of condoms.

The EuroStar delivered her at the Gare de l'Est more or less on time. Rather than manage a carry-on and briefcase through the Metro, Helen took another cab to the Quai Voltaire, opposite the Louvre at the end of the Pont du Carrousel.

René was waiting in the cramped front room when she came up the steps. He kissed her, took her suitcase and led her to the elevator. In a moment, they were in a front room on the second floor, overlooking the Seine.

Helen set her briefcase on the desk, opened the tall windows and looked out at the river. She turned and took off her blazer, then her blouse. She walked toward René.

Later, they walked up the Seine, descending to the quai-side, talking and holding hands, catching up with those parts of their lives they shared. At the Bouteille d'Or, they ate sumptuously, then returned in the dark of evening, pausing to embrace whenever a Bateau Mouche flooded the quai with its brilliant lights. Helen always felt obliged to satisfy the tourist's delight in catching lovers on the river bank.

In the morning, Helen dug through her case finding casual clothes — a light shirt and a long, wispy skirt, both of which she buttoned perfunctorily. She gave René a long kiss and a hug.

"Thanks for a lovely night."

He returned the compliment, and they went downstairs and into a clear and sunny Paris morning. Ignoring the hotel breakfast, Helen walked back up the river, this time at street level where a few of the booksellers were opening their stalls along the walls beside the sidewalk. She stopped at a café on the Place St. Michel and ate ravenously in the sunshine.