All That Glitters (17 page)

‘I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered practically everything,’ Johnny said by way of a greeting, as Ella slunk around the varnished wooden table and gave him a kiss. The door to the terrace was open, and a place at the table had been set so she could see the Eiffel Tower. It was incredible.

‘We have waffles, crepes, French toast, cereal, fruit, croissants, pain au chocolat . . .’ Johnny continued, as he watched Ella staring at the Eiffel Tower. She’d slipped on a dressing gown, but it couldn’t hide the spectacular curves of her body.

‘There’s so much,’ Ella said, as she gazed at all the food. ‘We’ll never be able to eat it all.’

Johnny put down his paper and laughed. ‘I know how hungry you get after you’ve been in bed with me though, and it’s been hours since we last ate – especially as we missed dinner.’

Ella sat down and took a bite from a warm, buttery croissant. It was heavenly. ‘God, this is amazing,’ she mumbled. She finished it off in minutes, and then reached for another one. ‘Will you still love me when I put on a few pounds?’ she joked.

Johnny smiled. ‘I think you’re incapable of putting on weight.’

Ella beamed. ‘And that is exactly why I like you. You say all the right things.’

‘It’s almost like I’m your gay boyfriend,’ Johnny joked, and even though she was careful not to react, or to change her expression, Ella felt her blood run to ice. Johnny didn’t suspect that Danny was gay, did he?

‘Well, if you’re not into women I’m afraid our affair is going to have to come to an end. I’m only with you for the way you use your body,’ Ella teased back, hoping her voice sounded light and carefree. ‘Well, that and all the food you ply me with.’

‘There’s a reason for all this food, you know. You need lots of energy for the rest of the day.’

Ella laughed. ‘You’re insatiable. Do you want to go back to bed already?’

Johnny smiled. ‘It’s tempting . . . but I want to show you Paris first. Eat quickly, and then go and get ready. My favourite parts of the city are waiting to meet you.’

Ella chewed her second croissant and smiled to herself. She had a generous breakfast, a gorgeous man, and a day wandering around a beautiful city. Things really couldn’t get any better.

They started the day off at the Musée des Arts Forains.

‘This is one of my favourite museums in the whole of Paris,’ Johnny explained, as they entered the iron-framed warehouse. ‘Of course, the Louvre is the most spectacular, but I think this is one of the most interesting – and fun – museums in the world.’

‘What sort of museum is it?’ Ella asked. Her French wasn’t great, and she’d never heard of it before.

‘It’s a collection of old fairground rides and attractions,’ Johnny explained. His blue eyes were shining, and Ella didn’t think she’d ever seen him so excited. He was like a little boy. ‘Some of them are even from the nineteenth century.’

As they wandered around Ella could see why Johnny thought the museum was so special, and as she watched him enjoy himself she fell a little bit more in love with him. He danced in the Salon de la Musique as a sculpture chimed and flashed in time with a 1934 Mortier organ, and in the Salon de Venise, Johnny whooped with joy as they took a ride on a gondola carousel.

The whole place had a vintage carnival atmosphere, but after an hour or so Ella began to feel uneasy. The lights dazzled, grotesque funfair faces appeared out of nowhere, and her senses were on overload. It was fantastical, seedy, overtly sexual and fast-paced. She needed to get out. She needed fresh air and reality.

‘Can we go?’ Ella whispered to Johnny as he examined a chipped statue of a scantily clad dancing woman. ‘It’s very hot in here.’

‘Of course we can,’ Johnny said, and he pulled Ella close to him. His smile was warm, but his ice-blue eyes were unreadable.

‘I mean, I don’t mind staying a bit longer if you want to see more,’ Ella said hastily. ‘It’s just a bit much for me.’

‘Don’t be silly. I know the collection inside out. Let’s move on.’ He squeezed Ella’s hand, and she squeezed it hard in relief. It felt so . . . dangerous in there, and she much preferred the idea of strolling around the beautiful neoclassical stone buildings, and along the Seine.

‘If you’d like some fresh air, how about a trip to the Arc de Triomphe? Have you seen it up close before?’ Johnny asked. ‘It’s like an island in a sea of roads and traffic, but it’s absolutely beautiful. I think it’s lovelier than Marble Arch.’

They hopped in a cab and made their way to the Arc de Triomphe, and when they got there, Ella could see what he meant. She hadn’t realized that it was so ornate.

‘The four main sculptures are
Le Départ de 1792, Le Triomphe de 1810, La Résistance de 1814
, and
La Paix de 1815
,’ Johnny explained in an impeccable French accent, and he looked at Ella expectantly. She didn’t understand a word of what he’d just said, so she just nodded enthusiastically.

‘And my favourite sculpture on the Arc is
La Bataille d’Aboukir
. . . Do you know about it?’ he asked, as he led Ella to the south façade to see it. Again, Johnny was incredibly passionate about showing Ella something he loved, and even though things about war bored her, she asked him to tell the story.

‘The battle was part of the French invasion of Egypt in 1798,’ Johnny began, and Ella did her best to look attentive. Everyone thought Johnny was a bit of a lad, and only interested in women, TV, and more women . . . but this side of Johnny – the intelligent, well-read side – was what she adored.

‘The French attacked the Turkish army – who were helping the British liberate Egypt from French rule – and they broke through the first defensive line really quickly. The second line proved to be much harder, but after withdrawing and rethinking what they were doing, the French were victorious.’

‘So what is it you like about the sculpture? The art? Or the story behind it?’

‘Oh, the story behind it,’ Johnny mused. ‘It’s all about getting what you want. At first it looks easy, and you think you’re onto a winner, but then completing the deal may be harder than you anticipate. It’s something that I think about a lot when I’m trying to achieve something. It’s about not counting your chickens.’

Ella thought for a moment. ‘I can see why you like it,’ she eventually said. ‘You can apply that idea to a lot of things.’

Johnny nodded, and then smirked. ‘You have no idea. Anyway, do you want to go to the top of the Arc to take in the views, or would you prefer to go shopping?’

Ella felt her spirits rise. ‘Shopping!’ she exclaimed, and Johnny laughed. ‘I thought as much. Think of it as my reward for you being so good this morning and letting me see two of my favourite places in the city.’

‘Of
course
I “let” you go to your favourite bits of Paris,’ Ella said indignantly.

Johnny kissed the top of Ella’s head. ‘I know, but I can tell you weren’t as into them as I was. Let’s go.’

The rest of the day was spent in a beautiful blur. Ella tried on gorgeous clothes in Chanel and Dior on the Champs Élysées, and then they went to the Marais where they popped into vintage shops and looked at 1950s watches, 1960s sunglasses, and 1970s knee-high boots. Johnny spent an age browsing a jazz record shop, and they both fell in love with a store that sold reissues of furniture and canvases and photos by independent artists.

‘I wish I could buy some of this stuff,’ Ella whispered, as they stared at some black and white photos of Paris from the 1940s.

‘Why don’t you?’ Johnny asked her. Ella shrugged. She could buy whatever she wanted – she knew that – but she’d never hang any prints of Paris in Castle House. As beautiful as they were they’d always remind her of Johnny, and the life she wanted with him but couldn’t have.

‘I could buy you a couple?’ Ella suggested. ‘These would look gorgeous in your bedroom.’ She gestured at two prints of a naked woman smoking a cigarette. The photos were taken in the 1960s, and were classically and beautifully French.

‘I’m not interested in having anyone naked in my bedroom apart from you,’ Johnny said easily. ‘But if you like them I’d love to buy them. It can be a reminder of our magical weekend together.’

Ella beamed.

‘And maybe,’ Johnny continued, ‘they’ll be on
our
bedroom wall one day. And you and I will be in our huge bed in our huge house, and we’ll look at these photos and remember when our love was illicit. When we desperately wanted a future together but couldn’t have it.’ His voice was still light, but a darkness had fallen over Johnny’s face.

‘Maybe,’ Ella said uncertainly, but the thought of having a future where she and Johnny lived together happily ever after both petrified and delighted her all at once. She wanted it so much, but she was afraid she could never have it.

‘Let me buy them,’ Johnny said. ‘And we’ll take one each. I can tell you wouldn’t be comfortable putting yours up in your house, but perhaps one day your photo will be reunited with mine. I hope so, anyway.’

Ella didn’t know what to say, so she squeezed Johnny’s hand and hoped that was enough.

‘You’re where?’ Nash exclaimed. He sounded cross. ‘In Paris? God, Ella, why?’

Ella winced at the sound of Nash’s voice at the end of the phone. She and Johnny had been swooning over the crème brûlée in Les Deux Magots when her phone had started to ring incessantly. Eventually Ella had glanced at it, and when she saw Nash was trying to speak to her she excused herself.

‘The production team suggested Johnny and I come to Paris to do some research for
Wonderland
,’ Ella began, the lie catching in her throat. ‘So we decided to do it. And I needed a break.’

Nash was silent for a moment. ‘Isn’t that what researchers are for?’ he asked evenly. ‘To do the research?’

‘Well, yes, but when the opportunity came up I knew I wanted to do it. We’re finding out lots about the city; it’s amazing.’

‘Ella,’ Nash began slowly, ‘when I couldn’t get in touch with you I spoke to Danny, and he was very vague about where you are and what you’re doing. Is there something you’re not telling me?’

Ella felt her heart beating so fast she thought she might faint. She sat down on a bench and rather than thinking about what she was about to say next, she let her eyes wander across the people walking past. It was a cliché, but Ella couldn’t take her eyes off the impeccably dressed women with their tiny dogs, and the handsome, flamboyant men that draped their arms around them. People who lived in Paris really were beautiful.

‘I’m having an affair with Johnny Cooper,’ Ella admitted, her voice small. ‘Danny knows all about it. He was covering for me.’

There was a long pause. ‘How long has this been going on?’ Nash spat. His voice was spikier than she’d ever heard it.

‘Not long,’ Ella said. ‘But long enough for me to know I’m in over my head. I tried so hard not to get involved, but I couldn’t help it. Johnny swept me off my feet.’

‘So it’s serious?’ Nash barked, and Ella cowered. She’d always known that Nash wasn’t keen on her, and this confirmed it.

‘I think so. But I don’t know what to do.’

‘The first thing we need to do is talk to Aaron,’ Nash said as he furiously went into damage-limitation mode. ‘He’ll have experience in this sort of thing, and—’

‘No!’ Ella exclaimed, as she interrupted Nash’s train of thought. ‘You can’t tell Aaron. He’ll go ballistic.’

‘You do know you’re putting me in a difficult position by asking me not to tell my boss about this,’ Nash said angrily. ‘Tell me what you have against Aaron being told, because if he finds out from someone else he’ll be furious.’

Ella paused and watched a couple walk past. They were holding hands and were obviously crazily in love. They reminded her of what she and Johnny were like when they were together.

‘I know this might be hard to understand, but Johnny is something exclusive to me. He’s a part of my life that isn’t controlled by the Riding machine. He represents something personal. Something private. When I’m with him I’m not “Ella Riding, wife of Danny and slick media personality”. I’m just Ella Aldridge. I’m just me. If Aaron knew about this, well . . . He’d try to control it. That’s if he even allowed it. And you know what? That’s a risk I’m not prepared to take. I don’t want anything to ruin what I have with him.’

‘And when you say “him” I take it you mean Johnny?’ Nash asked wryly.

Ella flushed.

‘I hate to be the one to rain on your parade,’ Nash spat, ‘but what about Danny? Aren’t you concerned about ruining what you have with your husband?’

‘That’s not going to happen,’ Ella said with such steely resolve that Nash stared at the phone in surprise. ‘I’d never do anything that would ruin my marriage.’

‘If the press even gets a tiny sniff of this your marriage will be in trouble. People will question your motives for marrying Danny and label you a gold-digger; they’ll wonder why you’re fucking around, and journalists will start to dig. They might even uncover Danny’s relationship with Yves and that will effectively ruin both men’s careers. Is this affair really worth it?’

‘Yes,’ Ella whispered. ‘It really is.’

She knew she was being selfish – and that by marrying Danny she’d agreed to conditions that she was effectively breaking – but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t help the fact she’d fallen hard for someone who wasn’t her husband.

‘I’m going to talk to Danny about this, right now,’ Nash said threateningly, but Ella couldn’t say anything. She was too choked up. ‘Danny might be okay with you waltzing off to Paris with your lover, but I’m not. He deserves better than that from you.’

‘Who was that on the phone earlier?’ Johnny asked Ella later that evening as they were lying in bed. Ella had been so exhausted from walking around Paris all day that she’d begged Johnny for some time out, and true to his word, Johnny hadn’t even tried to have sex with her. Instead he’d scooped her up in his arms, and let her doze on his chest.

‘When?’ Ella asked sleepily. She didn’t think life could get much better than this. She wanted to stay in Johnny’s arms for ever.

‘When we were in Les Deux Magots,’ Johnny said gently, and Ella sat bolt upright. She’d almost forgotten that she’d told Nash about her affair.