‘I thought that was Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland?’

‘Yeah, well. I’m older now. Tastes change.’ She eyed her cocktail again. ‘You know, you’re going to hate me. But this is going straight to my head. Do you think I could order a coffee instead?’

He gave a wave of his hand and ordered her a coffee.

The cocktail might be a little strong, but the cake was perfect. The restaurant was perfect. The ambience in the street was perfect. And Alex...? Even more perfect.

‘Have you been up the Eiffel Tower yet?’ he asked.

She nodded, then leaned across the table and whispered, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I thought I was going to be sick. It was okay looking into the distance, but when I looked down...’ She made a swaying motion in her seat and shook her head. ‘Bad idea.’

He laughed. ‘And have you been to Versailles and the Louvre?’

She nodded. ‘I queued for ever to see the Mona Lisa.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What did you think?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Honestly? Smaller than I expected—and a bit dark. But do you know the strangest thing? I still wanted to reach out and touch it.’

‘She mesmerised you. Just like she did Leonardo. What about Notre Dame? Have you been there yet?’

She nodded again.

He held up his knife and fork. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Just a few days. We’ve tried to cram in as much as possible.’

‘Is there anywhere you’d still like to see?’

‘Of course! This is Paris.’ She counted off on her fingers, ‘I still want to visit the Sacré Coeur and Montmartre—oh, and the Père Lachaise cemetery.’

He took a drink of his beer. ‘So, I offer to take you sightseeing and you want to visit dead people?’

He slid down in his chair a little—he seemed to be relaxing more and more as their conversation continued.

‘Well, I guess I bring out the best in you.’

She laughed. ‘It’s supposed to be beautiful—enchanting. Haven’t you ever walked around a cemetery before? In the summer it can be so peaceful. I actually quite like wandering around and looking at the inscriptions in the gravestones. There’s a few in our local church that have a skull and crossbones on them, showing that people had the plague. It’s fascinating.’

His smile spread from ear to ear. ‘Ruby, every time I think I might know you a little you say something else that surprises me.’

‘Is that bad?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s good. Very good.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I’m sure I can find some things in the next two days for us to visit.’

‘But today’s New Year’s Day. Everywhere will be closed.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll work something out.’

She was so wrapped up in him—in the way he was smiling at her, the way he was flirting with her—that she almost didn’t notice the men in long black coats until they were almost on top of them.

One of them put a black-gloved hand sternly on Alex’s shoulder, bent down and spoke quietly in his ear. She couldn’t make out a word.

‘Alex? What’s wrong? Who is this?’

The expression on his face changed instantly. First it was a flare of anger, then it was a pure panic. He stood up, sending his chair flying.

‘Alex?’

The black-coated man barely even acknowledged her presence.

‘Ruby, I’m sorry—I have to go.’ He fumbled in his coat for his phone. ‘Give me your number. I’ll call you.’

Her hands went automatically to her bag. No phone. She’d lost it.

‘I don’t have my phone, and I can’t remember what my number is.’

She felt like an idiot. Everyone should know their mobile number. And she did—she had it written down at home—but right now she couldn’t tell him if her life depended on it.

‘What’s wrong, Alex?’

He shook his head. He wasn’t focused on her any more. He looked shocked.

‘It’s my family. Tell me where you’re staying. I’ll send you a message.’

She rattled off the name of the low-budget hotel where they were staying. He mumbled something to the man behind him.

‘I’m sorry. I need to go. I’ll send you a message later.’

He walked around to her side of the table and bent to kiss her. It was the briefest moment, but his lips came into contact with hers in the lightest of kisses. A brush like a butterfly’s wings.

And then he was gone.

Surrounded by black coats, disappearing down the street.

The fairytale was over.

January

Ruby crashed through the door with her shopping bags, work folders and uniform over her arm.

Polly was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, eating a plate of noodles. She nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Come and sit down, Ms Misery. Noodles in the pot and wine in the fridge.’

She was knackered. Honestly and truly exhausted. Between the long hours and the killer commute every day, this job was proving tougher than she’d ever thought. But today had been a winner. Today she’d finally believed that her work had helped a patient regain a little part of his speech. ‘No’ had been the finest word she’d heard in a while.

She poured the wine and tipped the rest of the noodles into a bowl, kicking off her shoes and thudding down sofa next to Polly. ‘What are you watching?’

‘Just the news. How was your day?’

She put the first spoonful of noodles into her mouth. It was like a chilli explosion. Polly had a penchant for spicy foods, and as she was the cook in the house Ruby was getting used to it. She took a few quick gulps of wine to try and quell the burn.

Her eyes flickered to the screen and she inhaled quickly, coughing and spluttering as her noodles went down the wrong way.

Polly turned and laughed, leaning over and slapping her hand on Ruby’s back. ‘Was the chilli kick that strong?’

But Ruby couldn’t answer. Her eyes were streaming. She swallowed as best she could. ‘Turn that up,’ she said, pointing at the screen.

‘What?’ Polly mumbled, her mouth still full of food.

‘Turn it up!’

She started throwing cushions and newspapers around, searching for the TV remote, which seemed to have an innate ability to hide whenever she left the house. Finally she spied it, hiding part-way under the sofa. She pointed it at the TV and pressed the volume button hard.

Polly just stared at her open-mouthed.

‘There are unconfirmed reports that King Leopold of Euronia is seriously unwell.

‘The normally quiet principality has seen a flurry of activity in the last few days as private jets have been seen landing at the state airport. Crown Prince Alexander has returned home after a recent sojourn in the US, where he was apparently working with MIT and Harvard University.

‘Prince Alexander, the only child of widowed King Leopold, is rarely seen. He is an astute businessman who is passionate about his country. Rumours have circulated in the last few years about King Leopold’s declining health and his lessening public engagements.

‘Crown Prince Alexander was seen returning in a private jet in the early hours of New Year’s morning, quickly followed by dignitaries from the surrounding area. We’ve been told to expect a statement in the next few minutes.’

‘It’s him,’ Ruby croaked, pointing at the screen. ‘It’s Alex.’

It was almost as if an elephant had sat on her chest, stopping her breathing.

Polly dropped her fork and bowl on the table. ‘What?’ She glanced from Ruby to the TV and back again. ‘Him? He’s your Alex? Crown Prince...whatever?’

‘Apparently.’

Her throat had dried like an arid desert. She picked up the wine and gulped it down as if it were a glass of water, grimacing as it hit her tastebuds.

Her brain was in overdrive. Tiny words, tiny phrases, looks that had fleeted across his face and disappeared in an instant. Tiny pieces of a jigsaw puzzle she’d had no idea even existed.

A close-up picture of Alex emerging from a plane appeared on the screen and she gasped. He looked awful. He was still handsome, but his tanned skin was pale and there were lines around his eyes—even their blueness had dimmed.