The Favoured, The Fair and Ms. Vérité Claire

8 Pardonnez-moi

Unable to resist Julia's enthusiasm, Vérité pursed her lips and pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "Un peu," she said with a wink.

******

Once Bernard learned of the trip, he was in an immediate snit. "But it's simply the worst timing! Can't we postpone?!"

"Bernard, I'm a fugitive from scrutiny. There's no time."

"But my passport's expired!"

"We'll expedite it," Vérité said.

"But I'm really getting somewhere with our Dedications Page!"

"It can wait!"

"I have five more pounds to lose and I cannot budge until I do!"

"You're going to miss Paris for five pounds?!" Julia squinted, incredulous.

"Try not to fog up the Louvre with all your mouth-breathing."

Julia smiled, wide and happy. Nothing, not even Bernard's bitter licorice strap of a tongue, could ruin this moment for her. She was going to Paris, City of Love, Mecca of Fashion, Olympia of Butter.

But first there were arrangements to make, reservations to book, luggage to buy and outfits to plan. Julia was out picking up Vérité's prescription sunglasses – the most expensive plastic Julia had ever held in her life – when she tried them out to see if they gave her rose-coloured vision for the cost. Instead, she spotted Bernard on the street at the crosswalk holding hands with a man. And not, as she hurried towards them to get a better look, just any man, but one of Minx's minions.

Ahh, she thought, thrilled for the second time in as many days, leverage! After putting up with all of Bernard's meanness. How sweet! It was too perfect! She removed Vérité's glasses and returned them to their case. Somewhere between speed-walking and running, Julia's feet scurried to get ahead of the couple, cross to their side of the street and then turn around so she could bump right into them. Bernard's horror was genuine and satisfying.

He covered it well.

"Julia, honey! So nice to see you! Where has she got you running today?"

Julia tried not to laugh in his face. He reached out, pinching her arms pleadingly as he brought her close for air-smooches.

"Errands for the trip," Julia said. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course!" Bernard said, pausing afterwards awkwardly. "Hervé, this is Julia Swift. She's the indispensible couturier of the woman whose memoirs I'm writing."

"Bernard, you say that as though he hasn't seen me a million times with Vérité."

"Isn't she cute?" Bernard laughed nervously.

Hervé was not so bad himself. Tall, sharp, and handsome with a deep bronze tint to his skin and fine black moustache, he was at least a decade younger than Bernard and one of Minx's favourites to be photographed with.

"It's nice to put a name to the face, Hervé."

"For me too," he gushed. "Can I just say we've had many debates about whether all this..." Here, Hervé waved his hand over Julia like a magician over his assistant. "...is real. Now that I'm up close I can tell them to stop looking for injection sites. Everything moves beautifully."

"Gee, thanks. I guess. So, where are you two off to now?"

"Lunch at the Fountain," Hervé said.

"Yes, and we'd better get going," said Bernard, breaking a sweat.