[Fen Churche 02] - Night Train to Paris

long do you think you’ll be staying?’ Rose asked, once the conversation had moved on from Fen’s most recent adventures. Condolences over Arthur’s death had been offered and gratefully accepted and Fen had explained how she’d met Captain Lancaster.
‘Well, I don’t want to impose, but I’d like to visit a few of my old haunts,’ she sighed. ‘Hopefully, the city won’t all be changed and boarded up like some of those galleries on the street below.’
‘Same, same, but different, as they say in the Far East.’ Rose twisted her long rope of pearls, which hung down from her neck, around her fingertips. ‘It might not be quite what you remember, but then you were but a child, Fenella dear, an ingènue, a débutante!’
Fen laughed. ‘And innocent as a babe in arms is what you’re saying? Tell me, is it business as usual at the Deux Magots?’
‘Oh Fenella, what do you know of that old dive?’ Rose winked at her. ‘But, yes, you’ll still see Sartre propping up the bar if you’re unlucky.’ She placed her teacup down and from a pocket of her voluminous velvet housecoat drew out a long, black cigarette holder. She leaned forward, her pearls clanking onto the silver teapot, and pulled a cigarette from an open packet on the table. ‘Don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, not waiting for an answer as she flicked open an American-style lighter and took a deep drag.
‘Rose…’ Fen paused.
The older woman raised her eyebrows and beckoned Fen to carry on.
‘I was wondering, only because I never heard back from you, did you read all of my letter?’
Rose nodded as she exhaled a tight plume of smoke.
‘Well, I was wondering would you be able to put James up for a few nights, too?’ Fen looked over to where James shifted uneasily in the sagging armchair.
‘Ah. No.’ Rose then took another deep drag, eyeing up the man in her apartment all the time. She exhaled. ‘I hate to be the proverbial bearer of… but I haven’t told you another snippet of news.’ She leaned back in the chair, giving Fen and James a masterclass in the dramatic pause. At last she spoke again. ‘I have a lodger now.’
Fen tried to hide her disappointment and listened to Rose as she described her new paying guest. It wasn’t that she was desperately upset to be separated from James, but she did feel embarrassed that the poor chap now didn’t have a place to stay. Plus, she had been getting used to his company and liked the fact that he was a flesh-and-blood living link to Arthur. A comfort blanket in human form.
Before James could excuse himself and start looking for his own lodgings, a noise to the back of the room alerted them to the fact that someone else was in the apartment.
Fen turned to see one of the doors that led off from the studio open and a strikingly beautiful woman entered the room.
Tipper jumped off the chaise longue and snuffled around her feet.
‘Aha! Here she is herself, Simone! Come in, my dear, and meet Fenella and her young man.’
‘Oh he’s not…’
‘I’m not…’
Fen and James’s protestations faded into the air as Simone came over to greet them.
James, who was already halfway to standing, almost fell over himself in getting fully upright. ‘How’d you do?’ He stretched his arm out and the svelte, terribly chic young woman giggled, not understanding the typically English greeting. James said hello again, this time in French and Simone shook his hand.
Fen looked at her. Her waist can’t be any larger than my thigh, she thought. And that skirt, it’s beautiful!
Simone turned to face Fen and introduced herself. ‘Simone Mercier, hello.’
Fen introduced herself in her own near-perfect French.
‘Oh this is marvellous, such clever English folk!’ Simone laughed again and went to stand next to Rose, who placed a maternal hand on her shoulder.
‘Off to work, dear girl?’ Rose asked her.
‘Yes, and I must hurry, I am late again… tch, my bag?’ Simone cast her eye around the room and then sashayed towards James and bent over next to him, retrieving a small leather handbag from next to his chair. ‘Oop la, here it is!’ She giggled and waved an air kiss to each of them as she left the room.
Rose looked at James and not unkindly said, ‘So you see, Captain Lancaster, it’s just the most desperate of timing that you’ve both descended when darling Simone is already in residence. She’s a poppet, isn’t she?’
‘No, I mean yes, absolutely. Quite understand.’ James fluffed his words a bit and Fen shook her head in disbelief. She’d heard of pretty girls turning men’s heads, but this one seemed to have twisted James’s noggin right off.
With the excitement of Simone’s entrance, and almost as swift exit, over, the three of them sat back down and finished off their mint tea.
‘I hope you don’t mind me remarking, Fenella dear,’ Rose said, narrowing her eyes in concentration as she looked at Fen’s face. ‘But you look like death, darling one.’
Fen touched her cheek and could feel the heaviness of the skin under her eyes. All of a sudden, the lack of sleep on the uncomfortable train caught up with her and she stifled another yawn, then replied, ‘I must admit, I do feel rather tired.’
James pushed himself out of the armchair. ‘I’ll take my leave then.’ He bowed a goodbye to Rose, and Fen couldn’t help but smile as she noticed Rose slightly incline her head in reply.
‘Fen will see you out, won’t you, dear. And don’t let Tipper escape! Tipper!’ Rose called to the little dog as Fen and James left the room.
‘Will you be all right – finding somewhere to stay, I mean?’ Fen asked, feeling slightly responsible for his predicament.
‘Don’t worry, I can fend for myself. I’ll probably hit the hay all the way through till sun-up anyway.’ He paused in the hallway and picked up his kitbag, giving her a reassuring smile. ‘I must say, though, I’m a bit jealous of the