Writing for Fun
Paris - Sue Barker
November 2014
The sky overhead mirrored Jane's feelings; the rain had held off, but the cloud overhead looked ready to burst and let the raindrops fall, heavily to the ground; and as Jane Collins left the cemetery she felt the tears pour from her eyes. She stumbled to the funeral car and was taken home. How strange that sounded, she was now all alone, she had been her mother's carer for over twenty years, right up until the moment her mother died.
She pulled the door closed behind her and the loneliness bounced off the walls, cruelly tormenting her. She knew there had been times when she was looking after her mother when she didn't know whether to scream the house down or to bang her own head against the wall, frustration oscillating from her brain through her whole body, just because she could not get through to her frail parent. It wasn't her mum's fault, it was old age and senility. These were rare occasions and she knew she had cared for her mum to the best of her abilities. It was only fair, Jane thought, as her mum had been wonderful to her and she had always felt so loved until bloody dementia set in.
Jane didn't want to look back and remember, that was the road to misery as far as she was concerned. I'm only 58 with hopefully many years ahead she thought, but what am I to do? Jane had given up her job in the supermarket to care for her mother, she didn't really mind that, but unfortunately she hadn't been able to keep in touch with her friends, now all these years down the line, Jane was alone and lonely.
She sighed sadly and climbed the stairs to bed, listening at her mother's door in case she needed anything; then she realised what she was doing and her shoulders shook and the uncontrollable sobbing started. She wasn't sure what she was crying for most, losing mum or the realisation she probably had lost her chance at marriage and definitely lost any chance of being a mother herself.
Laying on her bed a couple of hours later Jane stopped crying and thought to herself, oh balls, this will never do, self pity never gets you anywhere, and so she tried to start planning the next few days. She thought she'd have to get a job, although the Collins's weren't poor, Jane wouldn't get her state pension for another 8 or 9 years, so finances wouldn't stretch that far. 'Bloody government,' she muttered to herself.
A plan was needed, so next morning Jane got up and decided to go to the job centre, not something she was looking forward to but needs must. She got as far as the High Street when she passed a travel agent. In the window was a poster advertising a weekend in Paris on Euro-star. Jane slowed down and then she stopped.
She hadn't had a holiday for so long she couldn't actually remember when she last went away. Paris, she thought, I've never been there, her mind whirred. Could she? Really? On her own? 'Well,' said this voice in her head, 'if you don't go alone you won't go at all, so what's stopping you?' Jane realised the only thing stopping her was herself. She had a little money put aside, nothing life changing she thought, but mum had always said you needed a little mad money in case you ever got the chance to go mad.
Before she could think herself out of it, she stepped inside and booked a weekend break that very next weekend. She felt sick and scared the next two days but she had wanted an adventure.
She heard her mother's voice in her head; saying, 'Buckle up girl and hold on tight, this is what life's going to be for now on. You're on your own, so try and enjoy it; it's your turn now.' Jane's mum had always been a no nonsense woman, and would have encouraged Jane every step of the way on her journey.
Arriving in Paris, Jane was overawed by the noise, the tourists and the beauty of it all. She checked into her modest hotel in La Pigalle district. The area was a bit seedy, but she was pleased to see her hotel, it looked quite impressive, the reception area was luxurious, with a chaise longue and a beautiful chandelier but when she reached her room, she found it was very utilitarian, 'No expense spent here,' she chuckled to herself.
Jane set off walking round trying to orientate herself; she passed the Moulin Rouge with its photographs of the scantily clad dancers: feathers everywhere, and not much else. She walked past a nightclub called Madam Arthurs, she soon realised the 'ladies' walking down the street were transvestites from said establishment. If only she had someone to share this with, the thought meanly crossed her mind, but she shook off the melancholy that threatened to spoil the moment.
She found the Metro and spent the rest of the afternoon seeing the sights. She promised herself a boat trip on the Seine before she went home. She stopped and ate lunch overlooking Notre Dame; 'It's quite liberating travelling alone,' she thought, 'you can do what you please.' She wandered along the Seine, and then thought about returning to her hotel to freshen up for the evening.
Along from the Metro she started window shopping, finally she paused to rub her poor blistered heel, she had walked too far in these new shoes, she sighed. Then suddenly she was bumped from behind and she tumbled onto the pavement. A gentleman started speaking to her in French, Jane was disorientated and couldn't understand him, he spoke too quickly for her schoolgirl French. She spoke and said she didn't understand; she tried to get up, but her ankle hurt. She looked up at the Frenchman and her breath was swept away, he had the most fantastic blue eyes, like her secret crush, Paul Hollywood from the Bake Off, but even bluer. Oh God, and that sexy French accent, she thought. She now felt wobbly but not because of her ankle. She blushed.
The Frenchman introduced himself in English and was very courteous. He insisted on escorting her inside the shop for a drink and a rest. They entered the Galerie Lafayette and Jean-Claude treated them to a coffee; he was so apologetic about the accident. Jane assured him that she would be fine and no harm had been done. Jean-Claude persuaded Jane to let him show her Paris by night, he said it was the least he could do. Jane smiled weakly as she gazed into those hypnotic eyes and could only say, 'Yes,' as she did to all his suggestions for the rest of the weekend. It was her mad wonderful weekend and it all started in the Galerie.