After a short time I brought the subject up.
“He was nice wasn’t he?”
“Who?”
“Matthew.”
“Yes. And clever and good looking. Shame he lives in Montreal really.”
“When’s he coming back?,” I asked.
“I wouldn’t know. He didn’t say did he? I gave him our number. Maybe he’ll phone if he’s coming back.”
And she got up and went into her room whilst I stood holding the table white knuckled and blinking back my tears.
I did my best to move on from the events of Saturday evening, but it was very difficult. I was both love- struck, betrayed, and hurt. I tried to behave normally but I was even more withdrawn and quiet than usual, and It must have showed.
Eventually on the Wednesday afterwards, and in the evening, things came to a head.
Anita turned to me and spoke,
“Natalie, what’s troubling you? You seem really unhappy?”
“You don’t know?, I said.”
“How could I?”
“You slept with Matthew! You knew I liked him. And then behind my back you brought him to this house. and you fucked him. I heard you both Anita.”
“She looked at me with a look of blank astonishment and then a knowing look crossed her face. This was followed by a look of sympathy.”
“Oh Honey! You’ve got it so wrong! That wasn’t with Matthew me it was Andre!”
“I’m so sorry.”
And she crossed the room and held me tight as I sobbed with relief and happiness.
She explained that, like me, she did like him but unlike me she hadn’t fallen for him. After coming that evening she had felt horny, and she had rung her fuckbuddy Andre. That is what I had heard.
“I should have told you on Sunday. I would never have done that to you.”
Later when I had calmed down we spoke some more, and Anita told me that if I liked him that much I should ring him and ask him to come to Québec City one weekend. I told her I would think about it, but I knew that in the end I wouldn’t be able to. My awful shyness would prevent me doing anything.
For the next few weeks I mooched about the house thinking about Matthew and my paralysing impotence and wondering whether I was doomed to die an old unhappy spinster. I said this to Anita, and she smiled,
“Don’t be so dramatic Natalie. Anyway Mums coming Friday evening. I thought she might cheer you up. But don’t worry I’ve not told her anything specific.”
“Can you pick her up from the airport? I’m working. She’ll ring tomorrow and give us her flight number and arrival time.”
Sure enough Mum did. She would be on The Air Canada flight from Toronto arriving at seven pm. The last thing she said before she put the phone down was.
“Porte de quelque chose de joli ma cherie. Utilise le maquillage. Je veux nous emmener tous dans ce bon restaurant. J’ai fait des réservations et Anita nous rejoindra plus tard.”
“Wear something pretty my dear. Use makeup. I want to take us all to that nice restaurant. I’ve made reservations and Anita will join us later.”
I cursed her Québécoise style and dress sense but knew that I would do as I was instructed. After all I didn’t want to be considered dowdy. I also knew I had to wear something of my sisters to be stylish enough for mum.
3
Friday evening arrived.
Québec Airport is very close to the city, about eight miles away, so I took a taxi. I arrived at the domestic flight arrivals gate about twenty minutes before her flight was due and waited.
I felt so self-conscious and overdressed as I stood there fully made up in a long yellow silk evening dress.
Suddenly I heard a familiar mellow English voice talking to me.
“Hello Natalie, what are you doing here?”
It was Matthew. He stood there smiling at me, and my heart skipped, and my mouth went dry, and I stood open mouthed. Eventually I managed to reply.
“I’m waiting for my mother. She’s on the Toronto flight.”
“I’m afraid she isn’t coming,” he said.
“She never was. But she did make reservations for two at a very nice restaurant I understand. That was just after I spoke to your sister who asked me whether I would like to come to Québec City and take you to dinner. She didn’t think you would mind.”
And then I did something I don’t do.
I swore.
“Bitch.”
He smiled.
“Which one.”
“Both.”
4
Matthew was staying at The Auberge Saint Antoine with its views over the Saint Lawrence River. This was close to the port and the restaurant on The Rue Saint-Paul where we had a reservation for half past eight. We took a taxi to the hotel and while I waited at the reception he hurriedly showered and changed clothes.
We arrived at the restaurant on time and the maître-de asked, in French, for the name of the reservation.
“Hollins.”
He must have noticed the English accent.
“Oh yes. Good evening Dr Hollins and Mademoiselle Jarvis. We have your table ready. Your meal and wine are already paid for. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
That evening was wonderful. It was the second most romantic evening of my life. The most romantic evening I may talk about later.
The table was by the window and had a candle and a single rose placed on it. I can remember everything that we ate that night, and I can remember the names of the wine we drank but I can’t remember much of we talked about. The food and wine were excellent as was the service; attentive but not intrusive. James was the perfect gentleman, and he was perfect company.
I was so aware of his masculinity and so drawn to him, and something about him put me at my ease and for the first time in my life I was able to speak to a man without feeling shy.
After dinner he walked me home. I had already agreed to meet him early the next morning to show him the city. I stood on the doorstep. He looked me deep in the eyes.
“Natalie. You are truly beautiful.”
Then he kissed me on the cheek.
“See you in the morning.”
And he turned and left.
And I rubbed my cheek where he had kissed me and went inside.
Anita was sitting waiting.
“How was your evening?”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much. Only you could have done that.”
“And to think I called you a bitch.”
“Don’t swear Natalie. You never do that. If you’re not very careful you might do something else you never do.”
She smiled and her eyes glinted. I marvelled at how different we were and knew I loved her.
5
The following morning just after eight o’clock, and wearing blue jeans and a plain white blouse, I had breakfast with him at his hotel, and then I took him on a tour of the city. We walked in Battlefields Park, and I showed him the Plains of Abraham where in 1759 The British and General Wolfe fought the French under General Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm, and following which the City became British territory.
In just under an hour this pivotal battle in our history involving only 10,000 men left both generals dead, decided the fate of New France, and ultimately resulted in the creation of modern day Canada.
As I stood there holding his hand I tried to explain the importance of our unique French heritage, and the meaning of the motto of The Province of Quebec.
“Je me souviens.”
“I remember.”
We spent the day sight-seeing. I showed him Place Royale, we walked in the streets of Upper and Lower Old Québec and visited Notre Dame de Québec. We drank coffee in a small café and at lunchtime we ate the Québécoise dish poutine, made of French fries and white cheddar cheese curds in a brown gravy sauce.