The Night That Started It All by Anna Cleary Page A

the truth was, as Neil very well knew, she’d been severely traumatised by funerals ever since her mother’s. If Neil hadn’t been there to put his arms around her quivering ten-year-old self in the baddays and nights that had followed she’d probably have had to be sectioned.
    Dragging herself to the task, she booked a room in a hotel near the Louvre. At least it didn’t sound too bad. There was something solid about an Hôtel du Louvre. If her nerve failed her when it came time to attend the ceremony, she could always sneak to the museum and hide among the Egyptian antiquities.
    The flight she booked was transferable, just in case anything came up where she was required to stay longer. If Luc Valentin got over his disgust at the way she’d spoken to him on the phone, he might feel forced to take her to dinner, or something. She should probably accept, for the family’s sake, although she’d be reserved, even rather chilling.
    She took steps to ensure she had something decent to wear to the ceremony. Luc might have a low opinion of her morals and her self-regard, but she would give him no opportunity to sneer at her clothes. Rémy had often declared that a Frenchmen could only ever feel distaste for the woman who was careless of projecting her beauty.
    It had never been any use explaining to him how easy it was for an author/artist to forget to change out of her pyjamas for twenty-four hours when in the grip of her muse. Even Emilie had wrinkled her nose when she found out her guilty secret. Shari doubted Luc would be any different.
    Just as well she wouldn’t be there long enough to get found out. She would establish a lasting impression of herself there as a woman of faultless grace and dignity.
    Taking Emilie’s advice, Shari stuffed the corners of her suitcase with scarves. A woman could get away with much in Paris, Em promised, so long as she wore a scarf. Along with the scarves Shari included a massive pack of tampons. When her period finally, blessedly, did eventuate, it was bound to be Niagara Falls.
    The moment arrived when, braced for every kind of horror, she boarded the flight.
    By the time she disembarked at Charles de Gaulle mid-evening twenty-five hours later, among other things she was feeling rather wan. An hour before landing, a minor bout of turbulence had made her lose her dinner. Fear, no doubt, combined with motion sickness.
    She cleaned herself up as best she could, scrubbed her teeth and sponged her neck, but her hair was lank, her clothes wrinkled and her breasts felt tender and vulnerable.
    At least no unwelcome man loomed up in Arrivals to witness her failure to project her beauty at the airport. One thing she never wanted to give Luc Valentin the chance to see was Shari Lacey in transit. He’d seen more than enough.
    Soon she was in a taxi being whisked incognito through the streets of the City of Light.
    Though it was officially spring, Luc’s home turf must have been suffering a cold snap. A drizzly rain obscured its fabled beauty and chilled Shari to her soul. When she alighted from the cab, her teeth chattered.
    She glanced around her, pursing her lips. So this was Paris.
    Drawing her thin trench coat around her, she regarded the hotel with grim misgiving. Its façade was imposing, in keeping with the surrounding palaces on the grand boulevards.
    But a smiling porter strolled out to take her bag and usher her through the revolving doors, and inside, thank the Lord, the lobby was warm, the people surprisingly welcoming.
    Feeling empty after her mishap during the flight, Shari planned to order a snack from the restaurant. But once settled in her airy room with its long, graceful drapes at the windows, all she had energy for was the hot shower she’d craved the last five thousand miles. Then, clean, warm and comforted, she slipped between the sheets.

CHAPTER FIVE
    S HARI woke to the pale grey light of a Paris dawn. Straight away the horrors of the day ahead sprang into her mind and