Poppy Does Paris (Girls On Tour 1) (Girls On Tour Book) Read Online Free PDF

and the most astonishing pair of legs ever poured into skinny jeans. No danger of deep-vein thrombosis in Paris: I’ve never seen such tight jeans anywhere.
    ‘I am Constance,’ she says, putting out a hand.
    ‘Of course! Hi!’ It’s Jonathan’s agent – I wasn’t sure if she’d be joining us today. And I didn’t expect her to be quite so glamorous.
    ‘Great to meet you, Constance,’ says Charlie, getting to his feet and shaking her hand. ‘I’m Charlie.’ He’s brightened up quite a bit.
    ‘I am so sorry I was so late. I couldn’t find anywhere to park my motorbike,’ she says. Her accent is adorable: ‘park’ comes out as ‘purrk’. I can’t believe how chic she looks considering she’s just stepped off a motorbike. Even her helmet is cute, swinging neatly beside her tiny Chanel bag. I can’t go anywhere on my bike without looking like a total nerd, with a helmet that makes me look like a giant insect (extra-large to accommodate all my hair).
    ‘Motorbike?’ says Charlie. ‘Fantastic. What kind?’ Forget brightening up; he’s looking at Constance as if she’s something to eat.
    ‘You must be really brave to ride it around Paris,’ I say.
    I’m sort of assuming Constance will say something like, ‘Oh no, I’m a real chicken’ or ‘I’m very careful’. Instead, she startles me by putting her head on one side, appearing to consider and then smiling and saying, ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
    ‘Constance
. Te voilà enfin
,’ says a voice behind us.
    Jonathan and Constance exchange cheek kisses.
    ‘Salut
,
Jonathan!
Excuse-moi, impossible de trouver un endroit pour garer mon scooter . . .’
    We watch as they catch up with much shrugging and gesticulating. I feel like an extra in a very glamorous French film. Then Jonathan slaps his forehead.
    ‘So rude of us,’ he says. ‘I sometimes forget that I’m speaking French, not English. You’ve all met?’
    ‘Yes – we were just wondering how much of our spiel Constance needs to hear again,’ Charlie says. He looks as if he’d be happy to tell her any amount of spiel.
    ‘I’ve got an idea,’ says Jonathan. ‘Constance, why don’t you let Charlie catch you up on their very exciting publishing plans . . . and Poppy and I can take a stroll?’
    Charlie and I exchange glances. I can tell that we’re both thinking: what is the catch?
    ‘That sounds an excellent plan,’ says Charlie. ‘I can talk you through the whole thing, flipcharts and all. And later, you’ll have to show me that motorbike.’
    ‘
Sans problème
,’ says Constance. ‘We can even go for a ride if you want, why not?’
    ‘Great! I’d say you know Paris like the back of your hand.’
    ‘I know it very well,’ says Constance without a trace of false modesty.
    Jonathan and I walk out of the café and I try to hide my smile as I put my sunglasses on. I’ve got Jonathan all to myself: what a result! Charlie has clearly got the hots for his agent, but she looks as if she can handle him. I can’t believe I wanted to seduce Charlie last night; Jonathan is so much more attractive. Of course, this is a professional meeting and Jonathan is totally off-limits. But it reminds me that I have standards. Intelligent conversations; someone who’s interested in culture and not afraid to be a bit different – that’s much more me.
    ‘There’s just something about the light here, isn’t there?’ I say. ‘It’s that creamy colour of the buildings . . . the river . . . wasn’t Paris called the City of Light?’
    ‘That’s exactly right,’ says Jonathan. ‘About a hundred years ago. Can you imagine? Picasso, Matisse, Hemingway, Chanel, all working away together in a few square miles, all inventing the twentieth century.’ He shakes his head as we start to drift towards the river. ‘It’s humbling, really. I feel very audacious even trying to write anything here.’
    I make a non-committal murmur and Jonathan laughs. ‘I must sound like a