The Little Antique Shop Under The Eiffel Tower. Rebecca Raisin

revoir,” I said coolly to the tour guide, and closed the door tight.

      Silently I cursed Joshua for betraying my trust and breaking my heart. With the number of malicious things he did, being published in the Solitary World travel guide and the havoc it created lingered long after he’d gone. Still, I’d learnt a valuable lesson, and steeled myself against men and strangers too, knowing I’d never make that mistake again.

      One of the women from the group gave me an apologetic smile that I returned before nodding my thanks.

       Chapter Three

      “Bonjour, Anouk! What’s new?” My little sister’s lyrical voice bounced around the shop, after she flung herself through the door, and took two great lunges to wrap me in her arms, suffocating me in the peach-scented locks of her hair. She was a bubbly, zany girl with a zest for life that matched no other. Great in theory, but if you spent any longer than a day with her, you’d find yourself zapped by an exhaustion you couldn’t shake, as though her reserves of energy pilfered your own. It was hard to keep up with her constant motion, and bevy of ideas about every little thing.

      With her free spirit and flighty attitude my papa hoped she would follow my example, so sent her to study in Paris, and build the foundations she would need to make a life of his orchestrating, with me as a sort of chaperone.

      Lilou flouted his rules, and snubbed his advice, though not to his face, or down the line of the phone. If she stopped long enough and he actually caught her on the telephone she lied, or she instructed me to lie about what was really going on. It was a game of cat and mouse, with me an unwilling participant.

      Papa thought I’d steer her down the right path, but so far all that meant was bending the truth to him when she escaped the tediousness of her paralegal course and flitted off somewhere with the war cry, ‘You only live once!’ It was enough to make me throw my hands in the air, and think of her as my wayward child, rather than younger sister.

      So far I was having even less luck than Papa at getting her to focus. If he knew she was playing truant with her study he’d be livid. But she was like a wrecking ball, impossible to stop once the momentum got going, and so very clever at manipulating the situation in her favor. Still, you had to give her credit – she certainly lived life on her terms.

      “Lilou, where have you been? Papa’s been calling every day,” I said, trying to rearrange my expression to appear somber, which was hard when her dazzling face was beaming at me. How I loved her, craziness and all.

      She shrugged. “Papa can call all he wants. I hate that paralegal course. I’m not doing it.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to work in a legal firm; the dullness would kill me.” I stifled a smile, knowing it was true. Papa wanted Lilou to become a paralegal, had his heart set on it, after hearing a proud neighbor gush about his daughter and the executive life by proxy she was leading, but that wasn’t Lilou. An office environment would make her wilt like a rose without sunlight.

      Living for the moment was fine for now, but I did agree she should have something to fall back on. I worried she’d find herself lost one day, with no skills and no real ambition.

      “He’ll cut off your allowance if you don’t study, and then how will you pay for your apartment?”

      Typically, she ignored the crux of the issue and said, “I am working. I don’t need to study. And luckily –” she flashed a grin “– my job allows me the freedom to travel. I just need to make more money, which’ll take time! There’s nothing wrong with making jewelry for a living… It is a career!”

      It was obvious Lilou would not be swayed. “It’s a fantastic hobby, and it might become a business if you work at it, but you don’t earn anywhere near enough to even make your rent. An Etsy store and eBay doesn’t pay your bills, let alone the lifestyle you lead. He worries, that’s all.” Lilou’s jewelry was spectacular but it sold for a pittance, and I couldn’t see her building it up to a level she could comfortably live on because work was a foreign word to her.

      With a flick of her long silky tresses, she rolled her eyes heavenward. “I have to start somewhere. Etsy and eBay are great stepping-stones for me. Sure I’m not at the 7th arrondissement stage…” She pulled a face, teasing me about the location, and exclusivity, of my shop. “But it’s a start. Papa should focus on his own life, and so should you for that matter. Don’t let him force you to be my keeper.”

      I smirked. “Good idea,” I said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Here’s the phone.” I lifted the receiver. “Give him a call and explain that to him.”

      She had the grace to color, the apples of her cheeks pinking up, only making her more beautiful. “Well…maybe we can leave it a few more weeks, Anouk? Just until I really build up my sales.” Papa was set in his ways, and neither of us wanted to answer to him, gruff as he was. “Forget it for now,” she said. “I saw the most magnificent sunset in Marseille. I’m going to create a whole range of orange jewelry in ode to it. Let’s go to lunch and I can tell you everything. I’ve left Claude at your apartment so we don’t have to rush.” She leaned over the counter to grab my handbag, and in one swift movement took my elbow and barreled me out of the door. I halted and fumbled for my keys.

      “Claude’s at my apartment?”

      “Yeah, you’ve made a very valid point, and I was thinking of it, even before your spiel. You’re totally right – I can’t support myself with what little Papa gives me, and what little income I make with my jewelry, so I’ve given up my apartment in favor of staying with you – to save money on rent. I knew you’d be supportive of my decision…” She frowned at my expression of abject horror.

      “Lilou…”

      “What? You said yourself I had to figure out my expenses and set some long-term goals. That’s exactly what I’ve done! I’ll miss my apartment but sacrifices have to be made. Living with you will be one huge sacrifice but I’m planning for the future – just like you wanted. And how happy will Papa and Maman be knowing you’re keeping a close eye on little old me?”

      I took a steadying breath, disarmed by her cunning, clever ways. Living with her would be a lesson in patience, tolerance, and cleanliness, to say the least. “It’s just…I like my own space, as you well know.”

      She swung to face me. “Claude and I will use it as a landing base, that’s all. Don’t worry, you’ll still have your freedom.”

      With the shop locked and the sign flicked to Closed, we let the debate drop and meandered away. In France we were accustomed to having long lunches, and sometimes ducking home for a nap before recommencing work. It was a way to relax and recharge. There was no race to get to the weekend because each day was a good day, with its own rhythms.

      “Hang on, who’s Claude?” I asked.

      “My boyfriend!” She zoomed on, pinning my arm so I had no choice but to keep pace.

      We zigzagged through throngs of people who were enjoying the spectacle of a lively Parisian spring day.

      “What? What happened to Rainier?” I asked, trying to catch my breath as she propelled me forward.

      Before Lilou had vanished three weeks ago, she’d been smitten with a gorgeous Frenchman whose broody nature intrigued her. Rainier was a wine-maker from Haut-Médoc who was taking a year to explore his native country to broaden his horizons, sipping Bordeaux along the way – an oenophile if I ever met one, as he supped, and swished, lamenting about the complexities of wine like he was reciting poetry. I thought he was perfect for her, mysterious enough to keep her guessing, and therefore interested.

      “Oh,” she hesitated, no doubt trying to formulate a lie to soften the fact she’d ditched him like an apple core. “We just weren’t compatible. C’est la vie.”

      “C’est la vie again?” I couldn’t hide the rebuke in my voice. It was one thing