Thirty Days in Paris by Veronica Henry EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Veronica Henry
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: French Cooking
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
- Publish Date: 13 April 2023
Juliet stood in the middle of the kitchen, overwhelmed by its emptiness.
There wasn’t a single appliance out on the worktops. There wasn’t a cup or a
plate in the sink or an empty bottle waiting to go into the recycling box.
There wasn’t a jar of Marmite or peanut butter cluttering the island; no
crumbs or circles of red wine or damp teabags.
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It felt almost funereal, with no smell of toast or percolating coffee to
soften the edges, just the faint whiff of Cif. Every surface shone, from the
granite to the blank blackness of the induction hob. It was pristine, silent,
with the perfection of a kitchen catalogue. Just like the picture Juliet had
found on Pinterest when they did the extension. A Shaker kitchen painted
Mizzle by Farrow and Ball, with vintage knobs Juliet had sourced from a
reclamation yard so that it didn’t look like every other kitchen extension in
Persimmon Road, with their skylights and bi-fold doors out into the garden.
The four of them had practically lived in the kitchen. They would sit there
for hours over a platter of nachos, with a raggle-taggle assortment of
multigenerational friends and neighbours, debating politics and the issues of
the day, as well as more trivial dilemmas. Should Juliet get a tattoo? A
unanimous yes. She hadn’t. Should Stuart? A unanimous no. He had: a Celtic
band around his upper arm, to show off his newly toned bicep. Juliet had to
admit it looked good. He looked good. Though it was strange. The fitter he
had got, the more she’d drawn away from him. This sculpted, streamlined,
sinewy version of him felt like a stranger.
Which was one of the reasons they were in this situation. Packing up
nearly twenty-five years of life together in order to be apart. Last Saturday,
they had thrown a farewell party for all their neighbours and the pair of them
had sung along to ‘Go Your Own Way’ by Fleetwood Mac, seaweed arms
waving, pointing at each other. But smiling. It was an amicable separation.
There was no animosity between them at all.
They had both agreed it was the right thing to do.
Now, however, there was a lump the size of a squash ball in Juliet’s throat
as she stared at the door jamb that led into the utility room. Dozens of names
and dates written in pencil wormed their way up it. The highest was Nate, at
least a head taller than she was, the details inscribed over four years ago. The
ritual had started when he was a toddler and had his friends from nursery
over for tea and it had ended on a pre-university pizza night when it had
become clear they had all stopped growing.
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