Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [88]
‘So, Natalie. I don’t want to hold us back. I know how busy we are today. Just tell me, do you want your birthday present now or later? Don’t know why I’m asking, really. You’re a now-girl, I know, not hugely into the concept of delayed gratification.’
‘Oh, yes, now. Now, now, now.’
Tom laughed at her.
‘Where is it? Where?’ She was tapping at his pockets. ‘Can’t be big, whatever it is – no lumps.’
‘It’s not here. It’s at Cartier.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We haven’t bought it yet. We’re going to get you a new watch. You’ve been wearing that Swatch for years. In fact, I remember the Christmas you got it. I was at university, so that makes it at least fifteen years old. I can’t believe it still works. Or that no one else ever bought you another.’
‘Mum and Dad did. They gave me this old-lady-type gold one – remember? – when I was twenty-one. Had it engraved, and everything. Can’t stand it!’
‘Why didn’t you tell them? I’m sure you could have swapped it!’
‘I’d never have done that. It would have hurt their feelings. They’d gone out and chosen it for me, hadn’t they? And I’m sure it wasn’t cheap.’
‘So you’ve had it shoved into a drawer all this time?’
‘Sort of. I wear it for family stuff. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen it for a while. I might have lost it.’
‘So you wouldn’t swap it, but you’d lose it happily enough.’
‘Not on purpose.’
‘It never is…’
‘Anyway, we’re not talking about my bad habits. Or my old watch. We were talking about the purchase of serious consumer durables. By you for me. A Cartier watch? Are you serious? I’ve seen them on eBay. They’re gorgeous. With that D on the strap. But they cost a fortune! Are you sure? Tom?’
‘Stop spluttering on. Course I’m sure. Bound to save a couple of euros, buying it over here. And it’s about time you had a decent watch. So, can we shave a bit of time off the critical path and go and get it?’ He looked at the list. ‘Louvre. We can certainly do without that. I’ve seen her. Nothing enigmatic about that I’ve-got-a-carrot-shoved-up-my-jacksie smile. She’s a woman, probably with PMT, on the verge of a strop. Probably because old Leonardo has made her stand still for so long, and is painting her on such a bad-hair day. I’ve seen it loads of times – the smile, not the picture. Seen the picture once. It’s about the size of a postcard, and you can’t get anywhere near it because there are always a thousand tourists standing right in front of it. That can go.’
‘For a Cartier watch, the whole shebang can go. Come on.’ Natalie had drained her coffee, and was hopping excitedly from foot to foot.
‘Put your arm away!’
‘I can’t stop looking at it. It’s beautiful. It is absolutely the best, best present anyone ever gave me. Totally. I love it. Thank you, Tom!’
It had cost more than Tom was expecting. He should have known they were in trouble when the snooty French assistant had offered them two comfortable leather bucket chairs, and produced a selection of watches on a velvet tray thing. Quite a lot more than he’d thought. But it had been worth it – she hadn’t stopped beaming since, and had completed the rest of the whistlestop tour of Paris’s major attractions with her left wrist extended in front of her. He didn’t think Simon had spoilt her like this – the fool. She was like a little girl, and he felt absolutely fantastic.
‘Happy birthday, Nat. Welcome to your late thirties!’
‘I’m entitled to call it mid-thirties for at least another year, surely!’
‘You call it what you like. Me – I’m staring down the barrel of forty.’
‘You so are not. That’s unusually cup-half-empty, for you.’
‘I don’t mind turning forty. It lends a certain gravitas.’
‘It’s not gravitas that worries me. It’s gravity.’
Tom laughed. ‘Stop fishing for compliments.’
They were sitting on the stone balustrades of some pont or other, with the stunning Notre-Dame cathedral behind them and its extraordinary stained-glass window, soaking up the last orange rays of a beautifully sunny day.
Natalie let out a long, contented sigh. She was tired, not the scratchy tired that made her knees ache, but