City of love

The holiday was a disaster, so why was Sue so happy?

It' s funny, isn' t it? One day when the kids are small and you' re short of time you suggest to your husband that you don' t buy each other Christmas presents one year.

Then, a couple of decades later, your suggestion is still going strong. Even when those little children are off with families of their own. No Christmas presents, no birthday presents, no anniversary cards, nothing.

When was the last time I bought you a birthday present?' I said to Samuel a few weeks ago. He turned from the TV and shrugged.

I don' t know. Does it matter?'

This was the problem. Just recently I had begun to think it did. Just because you live with someone, have children with them and love them dearly, don' t you sometimes need to show that love?

You know there' s a special date coming up soon,' I went on. I was pleasantly surprised when Samuel nodded and grinned.

Of course I do,' he said. You do?'

Yep. The cup final. And who' d have thought United would be playing in it.'

Isighed, determined not to give up. That was why the next day I phoned Sarah.

Hi, love,' I said, hoping that despite the sounds of some noisy game the twins were playing in the background I hadn' t called at a bad time.

Er, hi Mum.'

But apparently I had called at a bad time.

It' s about mine and your dad' s anniversary next month. I was wondering if we could arrange

Er, sorry Mum. Can I call you back later? Harry' s just¼ Harry!'

And with that, she was gone. I got a similar reaction from James.

Sorry, Mum. Bit busy right now¼

It was almost as if my family was keeping some huge secret from me.

Which, of course, they were.

It was almost as if my family was keeping some huge secret from me

When our anniversary arrived I arranged nothing more romantic than a card and a box of chocolates.

I woke up and reached out from the bedclothes, groping around for where I' d hidden them under the bed.

Happy Anni¼ I began.

But Samuel wasn' t there. I got up and opened the

curtains. Spring sunlight flooded the room. I blinked and looked at my alarm clock. Half-past 10! Why hadn' t the alarm gone off?

Then I heard the sounds drifting up from the kitchen. My Michael Bublé playlist and¼ something else.

The sweet aroma of a cooked breakfast.

Oh, good,' Samuel said as I walked into the kitchen. I was just about to come and wake you. Sit down, breakfast will be ready in two oh, no!'

The sausages weren' t too burnt. And besides, it was a lovely idea.

I thought you' d forgotten,'

I began to say.

Right,' Samuel said, interrupting. Our chauffeur will be here in¼' he checked his watch, ¼20 minutes. All you need to do is get washed and dressed. I' ve packed your suitcase.'

You' ve what?!'

He kissed me on the cheek. Happy Anniversary, Sue.'

The chauffeur was James, complete with suit and peaked cap. Your carriage awaits, ma' am,' he said, holding the back door open as we clambered in.

I can' t believe this,' I said to Samuel as we pulled away. Where are we going?'

As it turned out, not very far.

What' s that knocking sound?' I asked

Two minutes later, stuck on the hard shoulder, it was clear neither Samuel nor James had any idea. They had the bonnet up and were staring blankly at the engine as if it had just fallen off a passing spacecraft.

James finally pulled out his mobile and began to punch in a number. Don' t worry,

Mum,' he said, You' ll still be in Paris in time for dinner.' Paris?!'

Samuel turned to James. Thanks, James. I hadn' t told her yet.'

Eventually a mechanic turned up, fixed the car, and we were in Dover just in time to catch a glimpse of our ferry sailing away. Don' t worry,' Samuel said. We' ll catch the next one.'

An hour later we boarded the next ferry.

Come on,' Samuel took my hand and smiled, I' ve got a surprise for you.'

The ship' s restaurant was beautiful, the food delicious. At least it looked it. I was peering through a window while Samuel argued with the manager.

I' m sorry, sir, you need a reservation for first-class dining.'

Samuel turned to me, his face a picture of disappointment.

I' m so sorry,' he said. It feels like everything' s going wrong.'

I gently squeezed his arm. Nonsense. I' m having a wonderful time.'

We arrived in Calais and Samuel produced his tickets for the train to Paris. Although we had missed it, for a small fee we could transfer them to a later one. Ah, this is your lucky day, monsieur,' said the lady at the station. These are the last two seats on the train.'

Samuel turned to me.

At last! Something' s gone right!'

The lady gave Samuel the first ticket. This one is in coach eight,' she said, then handed him the second. This is in coach two.'

We' ll always have Paris!' I called out cheerfully, before we walked our separate ways along the platform.

Two hours later I met Samuel again at Gare du Nord.

We made it,' he gasped. It was beginning to feel more like an Arctic expedition than a weekend in the City of Love. Let' s find our hotel.'

It was beginning to feel more like an Arctic expedition than a weekend in the City of Love

Twilight was slipping into night as I gazed out of the taxi. I had a feeling we were taking a scenic route but I didn' t care. What scenery!

The Eiffel Tower, lit up against the dark, inky-blue sky; the Opera House, with its stunning facade gazing out at the Galeries Lafayette; the Sacre-Coeur, looking down on it all from the hill of Montmartre, its shimmering white stone reflecting the light of the moon.

Paris! Only two hours from England and yet I' d never been before. All I knew about the city had come from films and books.

And now we were here a sudden wonderful thought crept up on me: Maybe we'd soon be writing our own love story.

Non, monsieur.' The hotel manager was polite but firm.

But I booked a suite!' Samuel was distraught. He looked at me, then back at the man in the black suit.

A suite with a jacuzzi. And a balcony. And a

The man bent down behind the desk. He reappeared with a piece of laminated card. Against the polished

walnut surface of the reception desk it looked cheap and tacky.

See, monsieur, it quite clearly states: `G uests arriving after 5pm must inform the hotel, otherwise the booking will be assumed cancelled.'

So you' re saying

Your booking was assumed cancelled. It' s been given to somebody else. But you are lucky. We have another room.'

I don' t want another room.' The manager shrugged. Another room will be fine,' I said, taking over. Whatever you have available.'

And it was fine. OK, so it wasn' t a suite with a jacuzzi, it was a cupboard with a basin. But it didn' t matter. It really didn' t.

This is awful,' Samuel said. This is perfect.'

It' s an attic.'

`Attics are romantic. Artists live in attics.' I went to the little window. `And it has a view of the Eiffel Tower.'

Samuel stood behind me, following my gaze.

That' s an electricity pylon.' I frowned. I think he was right. Oh no!'

Iturned to see him looking at his phone. Surely nothing else could have gone wrong. What' s happened?'

Samuel was shaking his head. Please tell me it' s not really twenty-past nine.'

I checked my watch. It' s not really twenty-past nine,' I said. His look of relief faded when I told him it was actually twenty-to-ten.

We' re seeing a show tonight. It started 40 minutes ago.'

The taxi dropped us outside the Moulin Rouge. The doors beneath the illuminated red windmill

clearly closed.

Come on,' Samuel said, they might still let us in.' They didn' t, of course. Actually, Samuel, I don' t know if I' m in the mood for a show, anyway.'

He looked doubtful.

You' re trying to make me feel better.'

No, I' m not.'

I was, but not entirely.

The evening wasn' t cold, and just to walk through the back streets of Paris by night suddenly seemed a wonderful thing to do.

Come on,' I said. Let' s walk.'

We walked, we talked, we found a little bar in a narrow backstreet and had a drink. Then we walked again, and sometime around midnight we found ourselves by the Seine.

There was no accordion player to accompany us.

There was no

Eiffel Tower

in fact, I think we were heading in the wrong direction.

Suddenly there was a girl, about 18, I guess selling roses from a basket over her arm. A memory formed in my mind.

Blackpool. It must have been a year before James was born. Thinking back, it was probably the last time we went away together without the kids.

We' d gone out for dinner in a little restaurant near the Tower when a man came in selling roses. Samuel had begun reaching into his pocket and I had put my hand on his arm to stop him.

Don' t,' I remember saying. It' s a waste of money.'

I wonder if he remembered? I don' t know, but I' m sure he gave me a funny look as he took out his wallet.

Happy Anniversary,' he said, as he gave me the rose. And I' m sorry.'

Sorry? What on earth for?' For everything. It' s been a disaster.'

No,' I said firmly. It hasn' t. It' s been perfect.'

I pulled him towards me. We kissed and I swear I saw a firework explode far off in the sky. Or maybe it was my imagination.

Do you know what would have made this evening better?' I said, as I looked up into Samuel' s eyes.

Tell me,' he said.

I smiled and pulled him closer.

Absolutely nothing.'

And then we kissed again.

OK, so it wasnÕ t a suite with a jacuzzi, it was a cupboard with a basin. But it didnÕ t matter