CHAPTER 5 Romance and Danger in Paris

    Six weeks later, Mary reflected on how things had taken a new direction. She and Jock had phoned at every opportunity they could manage. He had passed the parachute course and was stationed at Pirbright which was only a half hour journey from London. The job in London was hers and she now lived alone, for the first time in her life, in a luxury block of flats overlooking Hyde Park in central London. Her work was interesting and the few wrinkles of problems had been solved.

The concierge system of security and maintenance at the flats was annoying but necessary she thought as she walked from the office to her home. It was six weeks since she had seen Jock and he was coming to see her this weekend and staying until Sunday evening. I hope I am there before him as that dour head concierge will not let him past the door, thought Mary as she pressed the buzzer to gain entrance to the foyer.

On gaining entrance, the head concierge spoke to her from behind the desk, “Miss Stuart, a scruffy individual claiming to be your friend and a member of the Brigade of Guards tried to gain access, so I had him detained and taken into custody.”

Mary’s heart sank. Her mind was in despair and she was close to tears. Then the concierge smiled and pointed to his office, “Jock Stewart is in there, drinking tea and watching TV.” With a deep sigh of relief, she looked through the small office window and there was Jock sipping a mug of tea, totally engrossed in a nature programme on television.

When she opened the door, Jock looked round and saw her, got up at once and they were united in a passionate embrace. The head concierge interrupted them, accusing Mary of lowering the standards of the establishment by inviting Jock to visit her. Mary was about to make an angry retort to the accusation when Jock replied, “Pay no heed to this guy, he was in the same regiment as me and he was in ‘C’ company where all the wasters and no prospects were billeted.”

At that, the two men laughed causing Mary to be bewildered at the typical army sense of humour.

“You gave me quite a scare” confessed Mary but was delighted when the head concierge remarked that she was far too good-looking and educated to have anything to do with Jock.

Collecting his big rucksack, Jock followed Mary into the lift and up to her flat. On the way, he explained that the head concierge was called Ron Miller, nicknamed “Dusty” and they had joined the army at the same time. They were in the same squad at the Guards Depot in Caterham, Surrey for their basic training and Ron was invalided out of the army after being injured in a bomb attack in Northern Ireland. The last time Jock had seen Ron was on a stretcher being airlifted by helicopter to a hospital.

In the flat, Jock was impressed with the view of Hyde Park and the luxury style of the accommodation. When he noticed the shinty trophy and the Highland soldier, he reached into his rucksack and gave Mary a package.

“Just a housewarming present for you,” explained Jock as he gave it to Mary who thanked him and immediately unwrapped it. When she saw the bronze guardsman, about fifteen inches high and in minute detail, she placed it beside the other two previous gifts. It’s expensive thought Mary as she crossed over to thank Jock with a passionate kiss. One thing led to another and before unpacking or dining they were making love in the bedroom.

Next morning, they went out running in Hyde Park and came across the outdoor gym. Mary was impressed with Jock’s fitness as he went over all the apparatus. I might not be able to keep up with him on land but I can easily beat him in the water thought Mary.

All too soon, the weekend was over and Mary thought again about the phrase ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’ as she said goodbye to Jock at Marble Arch underground station, where he would get the tube to Waterloo Station and a train to Pirbright. Returning to the flat, Mary felt deflated at Jock’s absence, yet very complete in her new lifestyle as a mature woman, so much in love.

Later that week, Jock rang to suggest that as it was her twenty-sixth birthday in a few days’ time, would she like to celebrate with a long romantic weekend in Paris. Mary happily accepted. Paris in August she thought, that will be interesting.

Ten days later, they met at Stanstead Airport and flew to Paris, then took the Metro to the city centre and booked into Hotel Practic, a street away from the River Seine.

“What has my personal tour guide got planned for this evening?” enquired Mary.

“Put on a cocktail dress and a warm jacket and we’ll go out for a meal with a difference,” Jock answered.

When they were ready, they left the hotel and walked to the promenade on the banks of the River Seine, passing sculptures of prominent French citizens every hundred yards or so. As they came to one of the large tour boats moored at the walkway, Jock beckoned Mary aboard. A small band was playing traditional French music and as dusk was falling the boat was lit up by hundreds of small lights. They were shown to a table that had been reserved for them. There were quite a few passengers joining the boat and when the band played a waltz, several couples took to the floor and began to dance.

“Come on Jock,” demanded Mary, “Let’s join them.” The two of them glided over the small dance floor, happy to be together and in physical contact.”

The waltz over, they made their way back to the table where a waiter was placing a complimentary bottle of wine in a bucket of ice. As he was taking their order, the boat cast off and they were addressed in several languages about the trip. Being on the open deck, a small breeze made the conditions ideal. Several famous landmarks were pointed out via the loudspeaker including the Eiffel Tower was very prominent, lit up against the darkening sky. They finished off the meal with a generous helping of brandy coffee. Everything had been first-class and with the sounds and smells from the banks of the river, it had been an evening to remember.

After a few more dances, the boat docked where they had boarded. “This is the best birthday present I have ever had,” whispered Mary, kissing Jock on the ear as they left the boat.

“A taxi home or do you want to walk?” asked Jock.

“Let’s walk, it’s such a lovely night.”

Suddenly, three figures appeared from behind one of the sculptures lining the promenade. They were men of North African or Middle Eastern appearance. Mary felt Jock go tense. “If these guys separate out, give me your handbag and get behind me,” growled Jock in a very authoritative voice. As the men drew nearer, they separated as Jock had predicted and Mary did as she was told, feeling frightened and excited at the same time.

“I want your wallet, your watch and your woman, Englishman,” said the larger of the three, producing a wicked-looking knife. Mary saw that the other two men also had knives. Jock suddenly seized the wrist of the man with the threatening knife and head-butted his assailant, smack in the face. Mary heard the distinctive crack as his wrist was broken. Using Mary’s handbag as a shield, Jock blocked the second man’s knife thrust and kicked him in the groin with such force that he sank to the ground with a deep groan. Letting out a fearsome roar, Jock faced the third man who was smaller and younger than the other two but he dropped his knife and ran off in the opposite direction.

The first assailant was getting to his feet, his face covered in blood, when Jock hit him with an uppercut that came from his hip. The punch nearly lifted the man off his feet and he collapsed across the inert figure of his partner in crime. Mary was petrified and amazed at the turn of events which had ruined their romantic evening in about five seconds flat. Jock then stomped on the second man’s right hand with such force that the bones cracked loud enough for Mary to hear.

“Let’s get out of here,” commanded Jock and the two of them walked quickly away from the scene.

As they reached the side street leading to the hotel, they saw a police car parked with two officers having a smoke and a cup of coffee. Jock went over and spoke to them. Suddenly the blue light came on, the siren blared and they shot off in the direction of their attack. Mary began to feel elated now that her fear had been dismissed.

Back at the hotel, Jock made her a coffee and poured out a liberal dram of Glayva that he had bought from the duty-free at the airport. When Jock took off his jacket, she saw that he was bleeding. Her concern for Jock was dismissed by him as he produced a first-aid kit from his rucksack. The knife wound was only slight, looking far worse than it was. Jock washed and treated the small cut, more annoyed with the hole in his blazer than the wound.

Later, cuddling up to Jock in bed, the night’s events going over and over in Mary’s head, she asked Jock, “Two things. What did you say to the policeman and why did you break that man’s fingers?”

Jock smiled, kissed her on the forehead and said, “I told the police that a group of Arabs were fighting with weapons in that area and I broke the man’s fingers because, like the other man, he would have to use his left hand to eat with.”

Mary was puzzled. “So what?” she asked.

Jock continued, “Arabs, as I think they were, are Muslim and when he goes to the toilet, he uses his left hand to clean himself and his right to feed himself. So, for the next few days he will be, in his eyes, eating unclean food. Besides, he insulted me by calling me an Englishman.”

Mary laughed and kissed Jock on the lips. As they made love that evening Mary became quite aggressive and wildly abandoned, whether it was on account of the cruise, the fight or the Glayva coffee she didn’t know but it left her emotionally drained and extremely satisfied.

Next morning, after an excellent continental breakfast in the hotel they climbed the Eiffel Tower and visited Notre Dame cathedral. They were awestruck by the building and its history. As they made their way to the Louvre Art Gallery, they passed through the old part of Paris and the smell of the small bakeries made them consider lunch. They decided on a small café and bakery combined and ordered a meal from the menu, written on a large blackboard.

Taking seats at the window, Mary was aware of the air of hostility towards them from the clientele and the staff. It made her feel unwelcome. Jock seemed unaware of this and decided, as no-one was coming to serve them, that it must be self-service. He went over to the bar but was still ignored. Eventually the man behind the bar reluctantly came over and stood before him.

In his best schoolboy French Jock said, “Excuse me, I don’t speak French. I am Scottish.”

At the mention of the word Scottish the bar man started laughing. “Écossaise!” he shouted to the clientele who burst out laughing and started clapping their hands.

The barman indicated to Jock and Mary to be seated and called over one of his customers to speak to them. The man introduced himself, saying that he spoke a little English and he explained that everyone in the café, when they heard the Scots accent, thought they were German. People from Germany were not welcome in this neighbourhood which was Jewish. During the second world war when France was occupied by the Germans, the Gestapo committed a lot of heinous acts in the school across from the café. No-one goes in there now as it’s a memorial to the victims but flowers are regularly laid at the school gate by relatives of the victims. Germans are advised to avoid this area, as many accidents have happened to them. Mary and Jock were horrified by the story and before they could say anything they were presented with two large bowls of coffee, bread, cheese and a carafe of wine, compliments of the management.

After the meal, Jock handed over the empty plates and bowls and thanked the bartender. As they went to leave, they were greeted with a small round of applause. “This is a story worth telling,” said Jock, taking Mary’s arm as they hurried out.

In the evening after dinner, they recalled all the events of that day and yesterday evening’s fracas on the banks of the River Seine. “Life is never dull when you are around Jock Stewart,” declared Mary as they drifted off to sleep.

Next morning, they attended a flea market, supposed to be the largest in Europe. It stretched over a mile long with thousands of stalls. Jock bought Mary an eighteen-inch-high French doll in a plastic cover for her growing collection. They returned to the hotel in the early afternoon, packed and then set off to the airport.

It was early evening when they reached central London. Jock declined Mary’s invitation to return to the flat as he was off next day on a huge military exercise in the north of Scotland.

As they parted, again the phrase ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’ crossed Mary’s mind.