Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 Read Free

Alice-Miranda. It’s entirely possible that you’ve come into contact with him before, knowing your parents’ connections.’
    One of the policemen pulled out a notebook and began to ask the man some questions.
    By now the children were too far away to hear the conversation.
    ‘Come along, everyone,’ Miss Grimm turned and called to her charges. She was eager to get inside the cathedral and away from the drama outside. Police sirens and speeding cars were not on her list of sightseeing priorities.
    Alice-Miranda’s mind was ticking over as she tried to remember where she could have seen the grey-haired man. If Miss Grimm hadn’t been in such a hurry she might have run back and introduced herself, even though her French wasn’t very good. But the headmistress did not intend to stop.
    The children, flanked by their teachers, walked into the cathedral. The drama outside was forgotten as an invisible cloak of silence wrapped around them.
    Somewhere in the gallery, a boy began to sing; the purity of his voice sent shivers through the visitors below.
    Alice-Miranda shuffled through the crowd to stand beside Millie. Both girls gazed up into the vast space.
    ‘What do you think?’ Alice-Miranda whispered.
    ‘Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful,’ Millie gasped.

Fabien Bouchard blinked. He rolled over, shielding his eyes from the bright light that flooded the room.
    ‘No,’ he groaned. ‘I was having such a lovely dream.’
    ‘What were you dreaming about this time?’ his mother asked as she tied back the last curtain on the three double-height windows.
    ‘Football,’ Fabien answered.
    ‘Oh my darling, football is for children and sweaty middle-aged men. At least you could dream about something important, like fashion. Half the day is gone and you have masterpieces to create,’ she said.
    The woman was dressed in tailored black pants and a simple black silk top. Her thick, ebony-coloured hair was pulled off her face in a low chignon and her pale face was free of make-up. Although there were some fine lines around the edges of her green eyes, she looked younger than her forty-three years.
    ‘But I’m exhausted,’ the boy sighed.
    ‘I know you are, Fabien, but we must work hard to repay your uncle’s kindness. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know where we would be.’ The woman stood for a moment, staring out of the window and onto the street below.
    Fabien sat up and watched her. ‘Mama, are you all right?’
    She spun around and walked over to the enormous bed, then perched on its edge. ‘Of course. It’s just that there have been so many sacrifices, Fabien. But soon you will have everything you have ever wanted.’
    All he wanted was to go home to Guernsey. He doubted that was what she meant.
    She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. ‘You need to get up and make your mama proud.’
    ‘Will you come to the show?’ he asked excitedly.
    She pulled away and crossed her arms in front of her. ‘I’m sorry but it’s just not possible. Maybe one day.’
    Fabien’s face fell.
    ‘Please don’t look like that,’ she begged.
    Fabien pushed himself back against the pillows. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. Now you’re upset.’
    ‘No, I am not upset, Fabien. I just can’t come. That’s all. Now, hurry up. The day is wasting and I need to talk to you about some of the designs. Your Uncle Claude will be back soon.’
    She hurried from the room.
    Fabien threw off the covers and swivelled his feet to the floor. He pulled on some trousers and a shirt without even pausing to admire their beautiful cut and cloth, and followed his mother down the hall.
    ‘Now tell me, Fabien, what is this we have used on the bodice?’ she asked when he caught up to her. They stood in a large room surrounded by mannequins dressed in splendid gowns.
    ‘Lace,’ he said.
    Neither Fabien nor his mother heard Claude’s silent footsteps as he entered the room.
    ‘Of course it’s lace,’ the man snapped. Fabien and his