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Shadows drifted on the ceiling as the hum of traffic continued all night. The envelope containing the empty sheets sat on the desk next to my laptop. Bella Caron had appeared within hours of me arriving in Paris, and something was about to happen. Though initially interested in my search, Robert had soon drifted off when I explained the details. I sighed. What if my search found nothing? This was one of my crazy Maisie schemes, and I sensed from what Dad didn’t say that he was sceptical. Hope had been keeping me going and I could not abide the thought of losing the lifeline.

I opened the curtains and studied the neon lights reflecting in the cobbled road below. Cars waited at the traffic lights. Where were they going in the early hours of the morning and who was in them? The blank page of the beautiful purple, leather notebook stared at me. I jotted down a few words in elaborate handwriting and then tapped the pen on the table. My laptop let out a gentle electronic sound as it woke up, and now the cursor winked at me. I had ideas to write a blog post that would carry on from my aunt’s story and tapped away on the keyboard, releasing the words that had been keeping me awake.

Dear Readers,

Paris never sleeps but the curtains of all the apartments are closed and shutters have been pulled down over the windows of the restaurants and bistros. I wonder where the constant traffic is heading and if there is a secret part of the city living in a different time zone.

Bella Caron walked past Chez la Mère Sylvie wearing her distinctive polka-dot dress. She left a brown envelope on a bench and it contained blank pages and a title page which simply read Lost Paris Secrets. So, Bella is thinking of another book, but I wonder if her characters are inhabiting the secret world of Paris where the traffic is heading. Who knows?

The title of the manuscript sums up how I feel in this strange city. I am lost in my thoughts of my Aunt Ada, who may or may not be here, and know she had delicious secrets. I worry Bella has lost the plot of her latest novel and is waiting for her characters to chat with her.

I am afraid I have travelled to Paris on a whim but dream of meeting with my aunt again soon. Tomorrow, I will spend time in this area of Paris and continue to search for her. I would love to see Bella again. Maybe she could tell me where she has seen Aunt Ada and I could reassure her about her story.

I reread my document and hovered over I worry Bella has lost the plot of her latest novel and is waiting for her characters to chat with her. Now I had written a post, I had to find out how to set up a blog and send it out to the world and hopefully connect with Bella and my aunt. The missing last lines from the story I found trapped under my aunt’s filing cabinet inspired me. A knife, compact mirror and the last letter to her lover lurked inside the Chanel bag. I imagined how those items ended up in the handbag, opened up a new document on my laptop and let my fingers feel for the words.

Writing words furiously, I sent Bella inside of her apartment which consisted of a tiny kitchen, a shabby sofa bed and a table for two. Her laptop fitted on the wide window ledge and she sat on a kitchen chair. Like me, she scanned the street below for characters. For years she wrote risqué love stories to earn a steady income, but she no longer wanted to write them and had found another agent who wanted to sell the story she had always wanted to write. I planned the narrative structure and began to delve into it. Afraid of losing ideas, I went into the kitchen to refill my cup with more coffee and Bella told me she loved to bake madeleines like the ones I had seen a TV chef bake in Paris.

The flow of ideas drowned out the traffic. Amber tones drenched the cobbles and a street sweeper pushed at the litter. The silk camisole and matching shorts provided by Amelia exposed my flesh and a morning breeze gave me goosebumps. When I closed the window, I gained eye contact with a woman who opened her curtains, while the street sweeper paused to stare at me. Last night’s blue eyeshadow and mascara stuck to my fingertips when I rubbed my eyes, so I splashed my face with water and the cold sensation woke me up.

Dressed in my ‘Feel the Pain’ T-shirt and animal print leggings, I dismissed the possibility of jogging in the city but placed one foot in front of the other to stretch my legs. My unruly hair reflected in the window and a halo of frizz had appeared on top.

There was a light tap at the door.

‘Maisie, Maisie, you have a guest. Are you decent? There’s someone here to see you.’ Robert spoke in a low whisper.

Felix must be here or maybe Jemima had convinced him to let her fly out to meet me. I paused. A jolt of excitement ran through my veins when I realised my aunt may have found me. I dashed into the living room but there was no one there. ‘Hello, good morning, Robert. Where are you?’ A sweet buttery aroma combined with coffee drifted from the kitchen, so I padded into the corridor in search of my host.

‘ Bonjour , Maisie,’ said Danny, holding a tray of pastries, fruit and coffees. ‘Robert has gone out and said we should eat breakfast on your terrace. I’ve come to help with your search,’ he announced, glancing momentarily at the logo ‘feel’ emblazoned across my chest.

I folded my arms and waited for the words but now a grin decided to plaster itself across my face. ‘What’re you doing here? I thought you were staying in your parents’ hotel. How did you find me?’ Memories of the kiss in the taxi came into focus. Working hard to restrain another goofy smile, I spoke through gritted teeth and sounded irritated.

He was dressed casually, his short hair framed his attractive face. ‘You gave me the address in your last email. I couldn’t resist helping with your search. Do you think Ada is here?’

‘I don’t know, but I want her to be here so much.’ My voice quivered when I spoke. ‘I’m sorry but I didn’t sleep a wink last night and I’m tired. Sleep deprivation always makes me emotional. But it’s good to see you.’ Realising he had travelled to Paris to see me when Matt could not even be bothered to move from the sofa to the kitchen, I beamed at him.

‘That’s a relief. You seemed annoyed for a moment.’

‘No.’ I touched my hair, wondering if I could broach the subject of the kiss, but the warmth in his manner wrapped itself around me like a great big fleecy blanket. It felt so good to know Danny believed me.

‘Come on, open the doors out to the patio. It’s time for some food.’ Danny handed me a cup of coffee and I tore open a warm, buttery croissant.

Neither of us spoke as we devoured the fresh sweetness of the pastries. Traffic moaned outside. The occasional French accent drifted upwards from the cafés below, reminding me I was in Paris.

‘What time did you get here, Danny?’

‘I travelled last night and then crashed with a friend nearby. I love this area and thought we could spend the day together. I’m combining the visit with research for my business.’ He ran his fingers through his hair that seemed sun kissed and fairer than when he had left Heatherbridge. He had style in a relaxed way and was not too perfect like Felix. He was like one of the cakes that looked ordinary but there were delicious layers when you cut into it.

Fiddling with my T-shirt, I cleared my mind and updated him on the search. ‘I saw Bella Caron yesterday evening and she left an envelope on a bench. She lives above the bistro Chez la Mère Sylvie. In one of my aunt’s blogs, she sat on a bench, under a tree in the square and watched. I was going to start my day down there and see if Bella arrived.’ Gesturing with my hands, I said, ‘I hoped my aunt would also turn up in the same spot and then we could share stories over coffee. Sacré Coeur Cathedral is also mentioned in her blogs and notes.’

‘OK. We can do all of that and explore the local area if you want.’

Danny took a large bite of a peach, and the juice ran down his face. I laughed, grabbed a serviette and wiped his chin.

‘Thanks.’ He assessed my face for a few seconds. ‘Is it OK to wash my hands in your bathroom?’

We both stood up, walked past my unmade bed.

Danny looked out of the window. ‘Wow! What a view.’

‘Yeah! It’s amazing.’ I kicked my dirty clothes out of view and scurried to tidy up the unmade bed.

Danny turned around. ‘It’s great to see you, Maisie.’ When he made a beeline for me with open arms, I expected him to hug me, but we walked around each other and then both dashed towards the balcony to sit at the table.

‘What makes you think your Aunt Ada is alive and involved with the missing author?’

‘In addition to the blog posts, I found the ending of the missing author’s story trapped under my aunt’s filing cabinet in the potting shed. I’m worried my aunt tried to help and got involved in something.’

‘What’re you going to do?’ I liked the way he leaned forward to listen and did not try to challenge my theory.

‘Retrace her footsteps and blog about what has happened so far. I found my aunt’s blog password in a vase. If my aunt or Bella reads it, then it might lead me to them. Can you help me to send out a blog?’

‘Of course. How about I give you a simple lesson in blogging at the end of the day? I can also point you to some YouTube videos for reference. Now, I’ll clear up and wait next door for you to get a shower.’ Watching his long arms move as he spoke, I imagined those arms around me, and the tingle of excitement shocked me. Thank goodness he could not read my mind like Grant.

‘Thanks, Danny,’ I said, patting him on the arm as I swept past him to avoid eye contact. ‘I’m pleased you’re here. Surprised, but pleased. I’d like to go to Sacré Coeur today as she mentioned it in a blog post.’

Danny did not look up from his phone. ‘I’m just searching for the quickest route to Sacré Coeur Cathedral on Google maps.’

‘Thanks, I hate maps,’ I confessed, knowing he’d probably think about how different I was from Laura.

‘Laura is dreadful too and that’s why I developed the Big Breaks app. Give me your phone. It’s been really helpful when taking groups of people on tours because they get lost in crowds.’ Glancing up at me, his mouth remained open. I suspected I’d gone way too far with the French theme.

Pulling off the neckerchief, I said, ‘Is that better? I’ve embraced the whole ‘Allo ‘Allo! theme too much, haven’t I?’

‘ Non! C’est parfait.’ He stood up and gave me a thumbs up. ‘I’ll be very proud to walk the streets of Paris with you. I’ve only ever seen you dressed in pyjamas, jogging bottoms and your very well-worn cottage gardener clothes. You look amazing, Miss Bloom. Even better than the night of the exhibition.’

I waved my hand in the air to brush off his comment and calm down a buzz of excitement that could have powered the moped struggling to pootle past on the road below. Now, I took in his tailored navy shorts and pale blue shirt. ‘Well, you’re looking very smart yourself, a world away from your usual clothes. Your eighties style running gear probably fitted your father perfectly when he was a lad, and now the shorts are a little tight for you.’

‘I didn’t know you’d even noticed, what with foxy Felix living next door.’ His eyebrows raised and he frowned like Felix.

‘I don’t think it’s appropriate to mock Mr Laine in his father’s apartment, do you?’ I paused to listen for a sign Robert was in the apartment. ‘Where’s Robert?’

‘Apparently, he’s gone out to paint. I’m assuming Felix’s father isn’t a painter and decorator.’

A snort of laughter escaped without my permission. ‘Thanks so much for coming here, Danny. Your support means a lot to me, it really does.’

Grinning, he said, ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Have you?’ I asked staring at my feet, wondering if I should mention the last evening together. Another moped spluttered past outside and then seemed to halt. Having lost my nerve, I grabbed the keys to the apartment and beckoned for him to follow me outside.