A Tale of Two Cities : Part I
Several thousand miles away from the familiar streets of Manhattan, two couples found themselves in contrasting capital cities. Santana, who had once denied that she had a single romantic bone in her body, had fallen completely under the spell of Paris. It helped of course that she was able to tell everyone that she was there in the company of the beautiful young lady that she could now refer to as her wife. Brittany had always been a believer in every slushy cliché that was going, and the majority of them were present in the French capital. When they had arrived, the airport had seemed much like any other anywhere in the world, with the exception being that the signs were in French, as were the majority of the tannoy announcements. It was not a language that either of them was too familiar with, although they had both sat down with phrase books and learnt a little before coming. Kurt had spent some time with them, but there was still so much that they were unsure of; they knew how to say hello, goodbye and How much? with certainty, so that was at least a start. Sebastian had also tried to help, but he had given up after he had a major argument with Brittany over the fact that despite Lord Tubbington being male, he was still la chat; and yes, even pens and pencils had a sex. He did calm down and apologise in the end, but not before he had stormed out of the room and yelled a string of invective in Santana's hearing. So on the plus side, she did know a remarkable number of French swear words.
François had come to the airport to meet them, so they did not have to negotiate public transport at least to begin with. He had organised to take them to his parent's apartment in style, and had borrowed a vintage sports car from Jean-Marc's great uncle. It had been an interesting drive to say the very least, given the way that the average Parisian drove. They made New York's motorists look like models of decent behaviour. François drove exceptionally carefully, but he admitted to his passengers that was because of the vehicle he was driving; had he been in an ordinary car, he would have been just as reckless and suicidal as all the others around them. There was one moment near the Arc d'Triomphe when Santana thought that she and Brittany would be about to gain a pair of wings, but at the last minute, the driver of the other car slammed on their brakes and blew their horn. The driver, red in the face, proceeded to roll down their window, but before they could even open their mouth, Santana repeated the same stream of words that Sebastian had used. François would tell her later that her pronunciation and accent had been spot on…
The Girards' apartment was everything that Jeff had described to Brittany; stylish, classical and chic, and so very different to the loft. They had been given the master suite by François, and it was certainly impressive, with a huge bathroom, shutters on the windows, and a small balcony, with a view across the rooftops to the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The temptation to just flop down on the large cast iron bedstead for a nap was resisted, as they wanted to avoid the worst effects of jetlag. Instead they spent the afternoon with François strolling round the neighbourhood, stopping off for coffee at a tiny café, taking a table on the pavement so that they could watch the world go by. They watched as the elderly ladies, in their best clothes, walked by with their little dogs, making their way through groups of young people involved in earnest discussions about life.
"This neighbourhood can be a bit of a caricature of life as people imagine it in France," François admitted. "I know that I am lucky to live here, and not in the outer suburbs. As is the case in every city in the world, the suburbs are full of very bad things." They returned home that evening via the boulangerie for fresh bread, and the local pâtisserie, where Brittany demanded macrons, something else that Nick and Jeff had waxed lyrical about. When after a home cooked meal Santana finally was able to try one, she could see exactly why.
With the Eiffel Tower and Louvre behind them on Wednesday, Thursday saw François escort them out to Versailles. Santana had been the one that had requested that they come out here, having vivid memories of the photos that Nick had put on Facebook of the place. Wes had been the one to show them to her, and they had both gasped in awe at the opulence of the old royal palace. On a warm and sunny day in June, it certainly lived up to her expectations, and left Brittany awestruck too. She had laughed when she caught a glimpse of Wes, who had whispered that he had been as keen to see it as she was, and this was a good excuse for him. François proved himself to be an excellent guide, filling them in with the history of the place, and the momentous events of those final days of the monarchy.
That evening he took them to the Marais, and the small bar that Jean-Marc owned with Luc. It was nice to have the chance to catch up with them too, having met them only once before, at the Christmas day re-wedding. This time there was no audience of family and friends, and no Sebastian to rush over and drag them away, so Santana, who had insisted François show them the door to the infamous bar on their way there, just came right out and asked for every bit of dirt they could give her on the Meerkat. Brittany immediately scolded her, pointing out that Sebastian was a very good friend, and what she was doing was unkind. She still listened avidly nonetheless as Jean-Marc regaled them all with the misadventures of the young man that they all still called Guillaume.
That night as they walked back to catch the metro home, Santana could not help herself and fired off a text to Sebastian, telling him everything that she now knew. To her surprise, his reply was almost instant. 'Nice. Having a great day here in NYC too. Kurt has been here, telling me all the gossip he knows about a cheerleader he knew at McKinley. I am shocked, Satan! Your secrets stay quiet for the same in return. P.S. Is it weird that I am kind of missing you?'
Santana had laughed out loud at the postscript, but had to admit that she was kind of missing Sebastian too. It was strange how your feelings towards certain people changed as you got older. If someone had told that cheerleader that she would be the part owner of a successful diner in New York, happily married, and best friends (almost) with a guy that had once been her sworn mortal enemy, then she would either have asked them what the heck they had taken, or gone all Lima Heights on their ass. She found herself typing the words 'Not weird at all. Miss you too, Meerkat.' into her phone and sending it.
"He's become the good guy he was always meant to be. He used to be all mad with the world, but now he isn't. He has the love of a good man, his brother and his friends, so he no longer needs to act up to attract attention to himself. He has his mom back in his life too, and that has brought him stability; he no longer feels lost. He had to deal with a lot of truly bad stuff, and he saw people he didn't even know he actually cared for hurt. He had to change the way he lived his life, or he would have broken all together," said Brittany suddenly.
Santana nodded, and replied, "He used to bottle up all the emotions; all the pain and the anger. He tried his hardest not to let the world see how broken and hurt he was. Then one night he found himself in a position where he couldn't hide, and he had to let Nick and Jeff in. Trent was let in a little later. He still managed to keep up the façade in public though, right up until the day that Wes died, and then it crumbled so spectacularly. I remember Sam coming home that day, and telling me that he had never seen anyone look so broken as he did when they brought him to the loft, at least not since Blaine. He had to open up to everyone after that. I used to think that he'd kill someone before he went to comfort them; now if you were in trouble, and needed support, he'd be the first in line."
"He'd make a good dad one day. Maybe we should consider him as one of our donors…" mused Brittany, leaving Santana staring. She and Brittany had discussed children, of course, and they both wanted them. The idea of Sebastian Smythe being the father of one of them was not as repugnant a thought as it might once have been. It would actually be easier to ask him than it would be to ask one of the other people they had considered, namely Puck, Mike or Artie. Now she thought about it, a child with her genes and his would be a force to be seen; in fact, she reckoned that they would be pretty unstoppable.
After breakfast the following day, they headed out to the Montmartre area, to visit the Sacré-Cœur, and just stand and marvel at the view across the city from its lofty heights. After a tour of the church itself, they wound their way through the cobbled streets below it, heading back towards the Champs Elysees, to stare in the windows of the designer boutiques at the exquisite haute couture clothing. They both agreed that it was totally overpriced, designed for stick thin models and not real women like them. They also knew that had he lived, then Kurt's talent for design might well have lead him to a place on this street, after a long successful stint on Broadway. Blaine would have followed him here, content to raise their family in a city filled with love; happy to stroll the streets, soaking in the atmosphere, and using it to inspire his compositions.
The city still enjoyed the laid back lifestyle that it always had, even though in recent times people had tried to destroy it. It was fantastic to be able to sit at a tiny table at a café, sipping coffee or a hot chocolate, with a slice of some perfect gateau, and just watch as people walked by. The only thing that would make living in this city a problem, once they had mastered the language, was the fact that the food was so spectacular. Like the six young men that had strolled these same streets two years before, they found the temptations of the cuisine all too apparent. Windows filled with delicate sweet treats assaulted their eyes at every turn, and each evening, François could be counted upon to produce a rich and satisfying masterpiece of a meal. Then there was the whole concept of going out to buy fresh bread, still warm from the oven, twice a day. All of it was giving Santana a whole series of ideas for the Spotlight when they returned home. There was much that they could learn from the home of café culture and pâtisserie….
On the Friday, François had other business that he had to attend to, and so he left the two ladies to their own devices for the day. Santana surprised herself by actually walking into an art gallery of her own free will, but Jeff's eyes had lit up every time he had talked about the Musée d'Orsay, and she was curious; if nothing else, it would help them pass the day. The paintings that were on display here were more to her taste than those in the Louvre, she had to admit. The building was also spectacular, and it was hard to believe that once it had been a railway station, full of smoke and people rushing for their trains. She found herself having to stop and wait as Brittany paused before the paintings that she liked the most; as she did so, she realised that this had to be what life was like for Nick.
They spent the afternoon exploring the area around the Palais Royal, looking in particular for the little shop that sold music boxes. Santana couldn't help but think that one of them would be the perfect gift for her Abuela. They almost walked past it, so tiny was the store, but having found it, they found with the help of the owner one that was perfect for the older lady in question. Brittany then suggested that they should get one for Mrs Carmichael, who after all had been the mastermind behind most of their wedding, and Santana couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Before she knew it, they had also bought one each for Quinn and Sugar, little thank you gifts for their services as bridesmaids. This done, Brittany naturally started to look for one for herself…
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the English Channel, things had been a lot less romantic, but that was what was to be expected on what was essentially a work trip for Cooper. There was no car awaiting him and Grace when they stepped out of the arrivals area at Heathrow airport. Instead they were armed with a set of directions to their hotel, which was located in the heart of the area nicknamed Theatreland, in Leicester Square. They could hang the expense and take a taxi, or they could travel in on the Underground. As both of them were quiet used to taking the subway back home in New York, it was no hardship at all to head to the airport's tube station and take the train from there more or less directly to their destination.
"Now, you see, this is much more convenient than the Airtrain," remarked Cooper, and Grace had to agree with him, particularly as they had a reasonable amount of luggage; not having to change halfway there would be wonderful. She took charge of the navigation, using the Oyster cards that had been sent to them in New York, already loaded with all the travel that they required, and then followed the signs to ensure they arrived at the correct platform. A train was at the platform, waiting for them to board, and they stepped in and took a seat, just in time to hear the automated announcement system announce "This is a Piccadilly Line train to Cockfosters."
"To where?" said Cooper, his eyebrows raised as he questioned what he had just heard.
"Cockfosters," said Grace, deadpan. "It is one of those charming British place names that makes you go what, really? Anyway, listen out for Leicester Square," she said as the train's door beeped then slid closed, and moments later the train accelerated away from the station.
It took the train nearly an hour to reach their destination, stopping off every so often in the western suburbs of London. Grace observed happily that the train made a stop at South Kensington, which she knew from her research was the main stop for all the museums that she wanted to visit. Cooper had been checking out the route diagram above the seats opposite, and had observed that the line served King's Cross St Pancras; that would be very handy on Saturday. The sheer volume of humanity that greeted them when they arrived at their destination did not phase them one bit, used as they were to the rush hour traffic at 42nd Street, Grand Central, back home. Grace once again navigated, Cooper following in her wake. They took care to stand on the right on the escalators - Nick had given them dire warnings that Londoners took no prisoners when it came to dealing with people standing on the left - and soon found their way up to the street. They emerged into Charing Cross Road, and headed south, passing Wyndham's and the Garrick Theatres, before turning off to head into Leicester Square, and the hotel on the south side.
The hotel itself was one of many in an international chain, but this particular brand specialised in providing the kind of service that people would have expected to receive as a matter of course over a century before. They had requested an early check in, and found out at the desk that the hotel had not only obliged them with that, but had also upgraded them to a suite. Once in the room they took the opportunity to freshen up, and to have a cup of coffee to help them stay awake, before they set out to explore the local area. They both knew that after that night, they would be going their separate ways, more or less, for the next three days. They also planned to take a walk through the Covent Garden area to reach the Theatre Royal, the London home of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the show that they would be attending that evening. When that had been suggested, it had been a nightmarish suggestion to both of them, fearing they would nod off in their seats. However, a combination of the late departure from JFK, and the fact that they had both slept on the plane meant that for them, jetlag was not going to be an issue.
The first discovery that they made was that the National Gallery was almost right behind the hotel. Grace had it pencilled in for a long visit later in the week, but after they had taken a selfie with Trafalgar Square and Nelson's Column in the background they headed inside, both of them still wowed by the fact that entry was free. They picked up a guide, placing a few dollars in the donations box as others had done before them, and headed for the best known of the artworks; paintings that even Cooper had heard of. They headed for Van Gogh's Sunflowers, Constable's Haywain, and ended up in a room full of Turner paintings. The gallery was busy, small groups of children mingling with the tourists and older people happily. The little bit of culture done, they headed out of the gallery, through the square and on to The Strand. As they walked along, they passed a few more theatres, including one with a very familiar name on the marquee.
Of course, they had to stop and get a photo of themselves with the Kinky Boots sign in the background. Then, unable to resist the temptation, Cooper casually strolled in and introduced himself at the box office. Grace had to stifle a laugh as the lady behind the counter just stared at him, not having a clue who he was - but then, just when Cooper looked about to cry, her colleague suddenly remembered who he was, and greeted him warmly. Ten minutes later and the two of them were backstage, meeting the West End cast. Cooper was thrilled to meet the actor that was playing Charlie Price in London, and he was just as happy, both of them launching into an animated discussion of the best and worst things about the role. Grace occupied herself with the rest of the cast whilst the two of them shared notes. All in all, it was a fun interlude, ending in a whole series of photos. Then it was back out again into the bustle of the street. They resisted the temptation to jump on the open platform of one of the heritage buses, saving that for another day. They walked up into the Aldwych, past yet more theatres, before turning up Drury Lane to arrive at the front door of the Theatre Royal.
After taking a few more pictures outside the building, Cooper considered walking into the foyer, where the box office was open, but decided against it. He had a letter of introduction to hand over at the stage door the following morning, and he could meet all of the cast and crew then. As for their tickets for the show that night, they were safely in the safe back in their hotel room. Instead they turned in the direction of the old Covent Garden market itself, from where they could hear music from the street performers that now called the former fruit and flower market home, along with dozens of small shops and cafés. They decided after quick deliberation that they would not stop for a drink, instead heading for the main thoroughfare through the area, Long Acre, which was lined with yet more stores. A branch of Marks and Spencer reminded Grace of a promise that they had made to Sebastian. They headed into the store, quickly finding the food hall, and then the biscuit department, where the Custard Creams almost screamed out at them.
Cooper laughed as Grace grabbed half a dozen packets, and said, "You are remembering that we are here for two weeks, my love?"
"I am fully aware of that, my darling CJ, but if we get them now, they can go in the case, and we won't be running around at the last minute trying to find them," Grace replied.
"There is a wisdom in that," Cooper responded. "Plus we can try them ourselves to see why he raves about them so much - and if we like them too, we can get more." Grace nodded, then headed in the direction of the cash desks, stopping en route to pick up a pack of cream cakes. After all, they were on holiday, and just how much damage to the waistline could one little toffee meringue do? With their purchases packed in a reusable bag, they headed back in the direction of the hotel, detouring slightly to take photos outside the St Martin's theatre, with its signage for The Mousetrap, the world's longest running play. Back at the hotel, Cooper prepared the coffee, then sat down with Grace to eat their meringues, whilst reading the news in the free Evening Standard newspaper they had picked up at the tube station on their way by.
They had a meal before the show in the pub that Nick, Jeff and the boys had frequented on their visit to the city two years before, taking advantage of the promotion on steaks to eat very cheaply indeed. Then they headed to the theatre to take their first glimpse at the show that Cooper would soon headline on Broadway. They felt a little out of place in an audience full of families at first, but not for long. Cooper had read the script, and he and Grace had listened to the cast album; had seen still photos from the show. It did absolutely nothing to prepare them for the actual show itself. It was a wonderful concoction, leaving both Cooper and Grace spellbound as it went along; they laughed with the rest of the audience at the jokes, and clapped loudly at the moments where it was merited. At the end of the show, they stood up with everyone else, having enjoyed the performance immensely.
When they stepped out into the London evening, they were grateful that they did not have to join the scrum that was heading in the direction of the underground. They had seen the signs about avoiding Covent Garden station at this time of day as they had passed earlier and wondered why; now they could see the reason with their own eyes. Instead they strolled back through the streets, arm in arm, where people were enjoying a post theatre drink or meal in the plethora of bars and restaurants.
"I don't know if seeing that was such a good idea, Gracie," Cooper suddenly remarked. "The guy playing my part was magnificent. He should be coming to Broadway, because I am not sure that I can live up to that level of performance. I don't think taking this job was such a good idea after all…"
"Well, that kind of thinking is just silly, CJ! Yes, he was good, but he has had several performances in the role before that one. Yes, your Willy Wonka will be different, but that is exactly how it should be. Yours will be pitched at the level that a New York audience will expect; your little jokes will be tailored to our reality. I think that you might well be better than him in any case; his singing seemed a little pitchy in places. Plus you are just a big kid at heart; he isn't, and it showed. You will bring that aspect of you to the show, and that will wow the kids in the audience, and in this show, they are the ones that really matter," replied Grace.
"I guess so. He wasn't that pitchy by the way…"
"That isn't what Kurt whispered in my ear," whispered Grace with a giggle. "Naturally enough, he and your brother are here. They didn't want to disturb you before the show, and just now, well I believe that they are taking advantage of their angelic state to stroll around the big stores on Oxford Street in peace, now that they have closed for the night. Kurt has promised that he will come with me tomorrow for a shopping trip, so he is checking things out for me, as well as for himself."
Cooper groaned, then said "So I take it we will need an extra case when we head home? Either that, or poor Mason will end up like Wes did, and be snowed under with parcels."
"I am not intending to spend that much! In any case, Kurt and Blaine are looking for you as well, as it happens. They both think that given the number of photocalls you will be having in the near future, some good, stylish, classic day to day wardrobe staples might be in order. Plus, as Dahl was so quintessentially British, they reckon that your wardrobe should be too."
"I guess that is not such a bad idea in the big scheme of things; just remind them that I am not keen on tight trousers, or on very bright colours." He didn't know why that last line made Grace laugh. It was just that she realised that if bright colours were an issue, then he was going to detest his costume for his new role…
