CHAPTER 1 : OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
Twenty-eight year old Arthur has been sent to Paris for six months with an international finance company. His salary was excellent and included accommodation. The work experience would be unequalled. After a disastrous failed relationship in London, he needed to distance himself from his friends for a while and had accepted this position at his father's suggestion.
He had a choice of staying in one of the company's apartments or a hotel suite at the George Cinq. Deciding he would not only see more of Paris but feel as if he lived in Paris if he opted for the apartment, he was pleasantly surprised to be offered a three bedroomed apartment on Rue Lauriston just off the Place de L'Etoile.
The job came with a car and optional driver but he had arranged to drive himself. If he were going anywhere where there was no parking available, he would just use taxis. This seemed to suit his immediate bosses. A designated parking area was arranged for him at the main office with garage space rented for him near his apartment. Not the best of setups but he could take a short cut from his garage through a little park to his apartment building.
It was an international company with many non French employees. He fell in immediately with a group from the UK and was kept busy outside working hours with visits to the theatre and opera, nightclubs and suppers at various restaurants around Paris. His group also seemed partial to a little English pub called The Union Jack on one of the streets backing onto the Champs-Elysées.
Know to regulars as Jack's, it was a hive of activity during lunch and after work. The cuisine was predominantly English and all imported English beers were available, many on tap. Arthur had struck up a friendship with a lawyer from Ireland who was in his department and had almost finished his six month stint. The man was the blue-eyed boy of the company directors and if he played his cards right, his opportunities would be endless in any of the capital cities of Europe including London.
Arthur and his offices were not in the same area of the building but they often bumped into each other in the corridors or at meetings and were able to make arrangements to meet up later for drinks.
So, Arthur had settled into his Paris routine easily and felt quite relaxed. Home was still London and with the ease of the Eurostar, he often left mid-afternoon on a Friday and was in his London flat by six in the evening. He had a large group of friends and he just slipped back into the bunch with ease. However, he knew he had made the right move distancing himself from the group when he had.
Paris like London had more rain than snow over the winter months so coming out of the building one day, he noticed a lone figure standing at the bus stop in the pouring rain. He recognised him from his company and pulled over, rolling down the window to offer a ride.
The young man smiled saying, "Sir, that if very kind of you but I'm soaked and I don't want to mess up your car."
"Not a problem," said Arthur, "It's the company's and it will dry. Jump in!"
The young man, closed his soaking umbrella giving it a good shake then settled comfortably in the passenger's seat.
"I don't get to experience the inclement weather," said Arthur, "As I have only a short walk to my garage and then at work my car is inside all day."
"I'm not that lucky, I have to walk to the bus or the Metro. You didn't even ask me where I'm going?"
"I took it for granted that you were making your way home."
Yes, I am but I could live miles away for all you know."
Arthur smiled saying, "Do you?"
"No, I have a company apartment in the sixteenth, a studio just off the Champs-Elysées near the Arc de Triomphe."
"Good, I'm going there myself."
Arthur pulled into the traffic and they finally circled the Place de L'Etoile before making a turn down a side street, "My garage is just down this street," he said.
The young man smiled, "Close enough, I can walk from here. Thank you very much, it was kind of you."
Arthur turned saying, "I'm Arthur, Arthur Pendragon and you are…?"
"Merlin…Merlin Emrys. Thank you for the lift."
Merlin slipped out of the car. The rain had lessened and he was so wet that he didn't bother with his soaking umbrella but just strode off along the street.
Arthur smiled to himself, he'd done a good deed and felt quite happy with himself. If the weather improved, he'd walk across to Jack's later that evening to meet up with Gawaine and his friends. He wondered if Gawaine knew the dark-haired chap who was obviously also from Ireland.
Merlin stopped in front of a huge dark green wooden door and opened the smaller pedestrian door set into in. He slipped in walking through the cobbled passageway into the interior courtyard, he smiled at the superintendent's wife as she waved at him through her steamed up window as she cooked supper in her ground floor flat.
He opened the door to the apartment building crossed the small, black and white tiled hall and opened the sliding metal door to the antique cage type lift. He closed both the exterior and interior door and pushed the fifth floor button and was carried up with minimal creaking and moaning to his floor. He got out of the lift and walked along the corridor to his flat. He opened the door and thought, 'Home at last!'
Kicking off his shoes in the small vestibule, he crossed the room to the kitchenette. He put on the kettle and then walked across the room to the wardrobe and pulled out his dressing gown and stripped off, shivering slightly as he had not closed the window over his sink and the room was cold. Wrapped up and warm, he hung his wet raincoat in the shower and went to shut the window and looked out seeing in the distance the hazy outline of the Basilica du Sacré-Coeur on Monmartre. He smiled to himself as when he saw it along with either the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe, he knew that he was really in Paris.
His studio apartment was on the small size but all he really needed, a comfortable bed and wardrobe occupied the alcove and the sitting area had a small couch, a comfy arm chair, a television and a computer desk. In one corner of the room was the bathroom and balanced on the other side was his alcove kitchen with a little table and two chairs. He knew that he was lucky to have found a position which came with a flat as they were not only very expensive but difficult to find in Paris.
The kettle whistled so he made a cup of tea and took a couple of Hovis biscuits. He had some work to get done so he opened his computer, using his password to check into the company site.
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Arthur locked his car and exited the parking garage. He walked diagonally across the park avoiding the large puddles and reached Rue Lauriston, he walked along until he came to a green wooden door and walked in. Crossing the small cobbled courtyard, he smiled at the red geraniums which the superintendent's wife had in her flower box outside her ground floor flat. He let himself into the building and pushed the button waiting for the lift. The first time he had visited the apartment, he had chuckled at the old contraption but with crossed fingers, he realised it was kept in fine working condition and served its purpose. Mounting to the third floor, he let himself into his apartment.
Slipping off his wet shoes, he put on bedroom slippers, hung his damp coat on a hanger and made for his bedroom. The flat was quite spacious and he felt that if his name hadn't been Pendragon he would have been sharing it. As it was it was perfect, he'd set one room up as an office and the other was a guest room if needed. It suited him but with only one bathroom he was happy that he didn't have to put up with a flatmate. Once his clothes were in his cupboard, he threw his shirt and socks into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room and wrapped himself in his dressing gown. He turned up the heat as he passed through the hall and went into the kitchen. He glanced out the window and saw that it was still raining. Realising that, he decided he had no intention of going out till morning, he decided that eggs would be fine for supper. He found some ham and English muffins and quickly prepared Eggs Benedict. He was quite happy cooking for himself but found the planning and shopping for food annoying. Balancing a tray with the meal and grabbing a beer, he went into his sitting room and turned on Sky TV.
He liked to keep abreast of international news and also football and Formula One results. He checked the sports schedule for the upcoming weekend, F1from Dubai and Arsenal at home. He'd been to Dubai the previous year with his father and found it an interesting place. The facilities for the sports were great but football on an outside pitch even with a Scottish mist and chill in the air appealed to him more than sitting in an air-condition arena in the mid-summer heat of 43C.
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Merlin finally left his computer and decided he was hungry; he turned on the TV and walked across to the kitchen opening the fridge and hanging on the door as he surveyed the sparse selection of fresh food. In desperation, he found at tin of red lentil soup and half a stale baguette. That would have to be his supper. He smiled to himself; his mother right now would be fussing around preparing her supper. She enjoyed cooking and planned ahead buying fresh nutritious ingredients and would have frowned at her son's choice of food. Especially, as he followed the soup with a small tin of canned peaches and a soft drink while watching the news and then an old black and white movie. Soon his eyes were drooping and he crawled off the couch, checked the kitchen window and the gas stove, turned down the heat, set his alarm clock and flopped on his bed. In no time, he was dead to the world.
Arthur had had enough with the news and took his dishes back to the kitchen washing them and leaving them to dry. He walked back turned off the TV, turned down the heat and walked into his bedroom. On the chest of drawers, he laid out clean underwear and socks, opening his wardrobe and chose his suit and shirt for tomorrow, checked his radio alarm and turned in.
He lay there, going over in his mind, the next day's agenda and satisfied that he had everything straight in his mind fell asleep.
Slowly the streets of Paris emptied of umbrella carrying people, Gawaine left his friends as the pub closed, making his way precariously for some, to his building and let himself in. He climbed two flights of stairs to his flat, losing his balance only once. He fumbled with his keys; cursing the superintendent who must have changed the size of the keyhole and opened the door. The chill of the flat hit him but he slipped out of his coat and jacket and flopped on his bed. He was up early morning making his way to the bathroom and he turned up the heat in passing. Returning to bed he stripped off his clothes, throwing his now very creased trousers over a chair and crawled under his duvet until the cruel sun shone in his eyes and he had to face another day.