the boulangeries and patisseries with the painted signs hanging over their doors, like a fragment of old Paris, the Paris of Renoir, Lautrec and Manet, when gentlemen would doff their top hats to ladies with muffs and bustles.
‘It makes you just want to drink pastis,’ said Josh as they walked across a small square with a cute little stationery shop on one side, an ironmonger’s on the other, its old fashioned brushes and shovels all piled out on the pavement.
‘I could do with a stiff drink,’ she said, wanting to get their visit to Le Cellar over and done with. She thought of their hotel suite at the Bristol and wished they were back there.
‘Well, Le Cellar is famous for it. You could even go the whole French hog and try absinthe.’
Josh had given her the impression that the club was packed with cut-throats and pimps, and despite her brave speech about taking things head on, she had no desire to spend any more time in a dark thieves’ den than was strictly essential.
‘We’re not there to try out the cocktail menu. I want to be in and out before it gets dangerous.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ smiled Josh. ‘It might not be one of those tourist traps that plays dinner jazz and charges for the nuts, but this early in the evening it will be quiet. Stay close and we’ll be fine, okay?’
Josh led her away from the main drag and into a maze of tiny side streets, finally stopping at a small doorway with an art deco-style sign reading ‘Le Cellar’.
‘Wait here,’ he said as he pulled open the heavy black door. ‘I’ll be two minutes, tops.’
Sophie looked around at this dank alleyway. That glorious sinking sun she had seen falling on the hill had left this part of Montmartre hours ago, if indeed it ever made it this far. She eyed the large industrial dumpster at the far end of the lane, imagining dog-sized rats and casually dumped bodies inside. She didn’t realise she had been holding her breath the whole time until Josh reappeared moments later.
‘Maurice will be back in “cinq minutes”,’ he said. ‘That’s Parisian for “at least an hour”. Let’s go and get fleeced with the rest of the tourists while we’re waiting, eh?’
Sophie followed him back the way they had come, stopping in a busy square with shutters and window boxes. A white picket fence marked the centre, inside of which was the chic French equivalent of the shopping mall food court. Tables, chairs and umbrellas were arranged in vague formation around a dozen or more cute little wooden food stalls. Sophie was immediately enveloped by a delicious combination of smells drifting from the booths: sizzling sausages, gamey stews and buttery crêpes. With the famous bulbous spires of the Sacré-Coeur behind it, Sophie felt she was on a film set.
‘Welcome to La Place du Tertre,’ said Josh. ‘It’s a total tourist trap, so be careful, there are people out to scam you at every street corner.’
Sophie almost laughed out loud. Only two minutes earlier, she had been standing alone in a dark alleyway next to a club frequented by gangsters, and here was Josh warning her about getting drawn in by the street artists with their overpriced views of Paris.
‘So why bring me somewhere so dodgy?’ she asked, as he led her towards a café at the far end of the square.
‘It’s worth the risk – this place does amazing soup.’
They sat at a table for two with a view of the square and all the trimmings: red and white checked tablecloth, wine bottle with melted-down candle, laminated menu with pictures and descriptions in four languages. Josh didn’t even glance at it, ordering soupe à l’oignon for both of them.
‘This stuff will change the way you feel about onions, I promise you,’ he said.
‘So tell me about Maurice,’ said Sophie.
‘I’ve told you all you need to know,’ he said quickly. ‘He’s a rat and a leech and you shouldn’t trust a word he says.’
‘Why are we going there to ask him questions, then?’
‘Because he’s all we have.’
Sophie nodded. Josh was never one to sugar the pill, but at least you got a straight answer with him.
‘So tell me about you, Sophie Ellis,’ he said finally, slugging at the beer the waitress had just brought over.
She felt suddenly on the spot. Josh hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her before now, and all of a sudden he was observing her as if she was the most fascinating creature on earth.
She shrugged quickly. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘Come on, don’t be modest,’ he grinned. His face looked quite different when he smiled. Mischievous rather than brooding. ‘I’m sure you won a few rosettes at gymkhanas when you were a cute ten-year-old.’
Sophie shook her head slowly.
‘Nope, nothing that interesting.’
‘Really?’