[Fen Churche 02] - Night Train to Paris, Fliss Chester [free ebook reader for pc TXT] 📗

Thirteen

The bar was noisy and boisterous, and mostly, Fen noticed, full of men. James led Simone and Fen through the fug of cigarette smoke and Fen wondered if it was the smoke or the language that turned the air a certain shade of blue. Simone seemed unfazed and walked tall, and Fen guessed that she was just pretending not to notice the eyes of the men follow her as she gently nudged them out of the way.

‘Here,’ James pointed at a booth-style table, where two men were already sitting.

Fen furrowed her brow as she felt something wet against her leg but accepted the slurred apology of the drunk man with a tilted glass who had filled the space she’d left in her wake as she’d followed her friends through the bar. She wasn’t sure if the two men sitting at the table looked any more salubrious than the other chaps in this bar. Not that it would take much to be so, she thought to herself as she smiled at them and let James introduce them all.

‘Fen, this is Gervais Arnault and his brother Antoine—’

‘Or should that be the other way around?’ the taller of the two men, who was wearing a grubby cloth cap, said in mock indignation before James could complete the introductions. ‘I am the elder Arnault brother.’

‘And the uglier,’ countered the shorter, fatter brother, who did, to his credit, have the more handsome face, even if it was slightly smudged and dirtied with what looked like engine oil and grease. His blue denim dungarees were similarly dirtied, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows to reveal arms covered in tattoos, those also obscured by streaks of grease.

The brothers play-fought while Fen and Simone slid into the banquette seating opposite them. James took drinks orders and left Simone to finish off the introductions.

‘Fenella, you must ignore the children over there,’ she winked at the men, who both threw their arms up in mock disgust at being so tarnished.

‘We are both old enough to be your father, young Simone.’

‘And bald enough,’ she answered back, tartly, before laughing at poor Antoine, who now rubbed his pate and jammed his cloth cap back over his bald spot.

‘It’s OK for you,’ he said back to her, ‘you are young and beautiful and can make a living doing fancy things, whereas I am stuck in the warehouse all day—’

‘Getting balder and balder!’ laughed his brother Gervais.

Fen was slightly bemused by this buffoonish pair, yet her natural curiosity took over and she asked them about themselves.

‘I have a fleet of lorries,’ Gervais announced proudly, ramming his thumbs under the straps of his dungarees and pushing his chest out.

Simone laughed and shook her head. ‘A fleet? Is that what we’re calling it now?’

Antoine interrupted and introduced himself in similarly flattering terms. ‘And I am the boss of a large team of workers.’

‘You’re both liars,’ Simone wagged her finger at them. ‘But I shall forgive you as I know you’re only doing it to impress a pretty stranger.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Fen felt a bit flustered. ‘Please don’t exaggerate anything on my account.’

‘Antoine works in a warehouse in the north of the city and Gervais is a lorry driver—’

‘And mechanic!’ the plump Gervais chipped in.

‘And a mechanic,’ Simone added to appease him. ‘So I assume you two met Captain Lancaster last night?’

‘We did,’ Antoine replied, beating his brother to it. ‘And we shared a good few drinks with him.’

‘You mean you fleeced him for a few drinks?’ Simone asked, a note of disapproval in her voice, but a smile playing across her lips.

Fen thought this all rather amusing; a young slip of a girl telling off two burly much older men. But the two men seemed to take it all in their stride and laughed at her joke. Perhaps she proved herself during the war, Fen thought, made herself their equal?

Just then, James came back to the table and set down a round of beers for him and the men and a glass of wine each for Fen and Simone.

‘To our British friends and allies,’ Antoine led the toast once James was seated, having found a chair to bring to the head of the table.

‘To friends and allies!’ They all chinked their glasses and finished the toast with a few ‘saluts’ to each other too.

As James talked cars with the Arnault brothers, Fen asked Simone how she knew the two men.

‘They are just local characters. I’m not surprised James bumped into them last night. They could probably sense the very moment when his wallet opened…’ she raised her eyebrows and then laughed when Fen did. ‘I think they mean no harm though.’

Fen nodded. ‘Did you grow up around here then, on the Left Bank, I mean?’ She asked her, wondering how their paths might have crossed.

‘No, no. I was raised in the north of the city. But Antoine and Gervais are pretty friendly to all the new faces round here.’

‘Especially a pretty one, no doubt,’ Fen said and took a sip of her wine. It was only when she put her glass down did she realise that Simone was looking at her.

‘As you yourself have just found out. Tsch, really, Fenella, you are very pretty too. I assume that’s why Captain Lancaster is here with you, non?’

‘Oh, no.’ Fen could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. ‘It’s not like that between us at all. No, no. We’re just chums. Sort of thrown together.’

Simone grinned, then seemed to check herself and brought her lips back into a much sexier pout. ‘That’s good. So you won’t mind if I, well, if we…’

‘Oh no, absolutely. Crack on.’ Fen hid herself in her glass of wine again and wondered why everyone seemed to think she and James Lancaster were a couple. Nothing could be further from the truth. All that muscle and slightly unshaven look did nothing for her. But that