The Comfort of Strangers

The Christmas holiday was in full swing. The Gare de Lyon was surrounded by busy crowds, rushing around, families, friends and individuals laden with cases, bags and skis. Snow had started to fall from the Paris night sky. Leona, having already delivered her mother and children onto the station concourse was settling-up with the cab driver. She gave him a decent tip and he smiled in appreciation.

"That's very kind of you, Madame. Have a good journey. Where are you off to?"

"Morzine."

"It's all right for some."

"The children are having a skiing holiday."

"Lucky them. Lots of snow this year I'm told. Well, enjoy your holiday anyway. Happy Christmas to you, Madame. Au revoir."

Leona's mother had managed to find them a porter, the two children were waiting quietly, pacified by the promise of dinner in the station's famous Le Train Bleu restaurant before they boarded the sleeping car. They followed the porter to the lift. Passing under the great clock, Leona was struck by the Baroque beauty of the station interior. The restaurant was impressive too - the abundance of gold, the walls and ceilings enriched by colourful gilt-framed paintings depicting nymphs and nudes, and the heavy silver trolleys laden with roasts. If the smell of roast beef didn't make mouths water the sight of trolleys displaying an impressive range of patisseries did.

The maitre d' found them a cosy corner and brought the menus. Sophie, with assurance beyond her age, declared that she would not have the soup as starter. "I'll have the snails," she proclaimed, all grown-up and important.

"That's quite rich and filling for an hors-d'oeuvre," her grandmother said.

"It doesn't matter, Mum," said Leona "I'm taking the blocks off for two weeks."

Sophie winked conspiratorially at her mum. Jack, two years older chose Hungarian sausage and ouillette with large French-fries. Leona and her mother, less ambitiously, selected a consommé and grilled meat for main course with a decent Bordeaux wine.

Two young men, in their early thirties, looking merry with drink and Christmas cheer, both handsome in completely different ways and weighed down by luggage and ski gear, came to sit across from them, picked up their menu and ordered. Leona glanced at them and then fished in her handbag for her pack of cigarettes. She liked one before and after a meal.

"They're bad for your health, Leona," said her mother, reprovingly.

"We keep telling her that," said Sophie, earnestly.

"I know, I know... Blow it!" said Leona. "I'll have to go and get some matches."

"May I?" Suddenly one of the young men to the side of her was leaning across, holding out the flame from his gold lighter.

Leona appraised him quickly. He had a pencil-thin moustache and piercing blue eyes, very good-looking. He reminded her somewhat of a matinee singer from the forties.

"Thank you," she said, putting the cigarette between her lips and leaning towards the flame.

Both the men were smoking. They smiled at her, at the children and her mother. "Holiday?" said the man who had offered the light.

Leona nodded and smiled, but didn't say anything. She didn't want to appear to be encouraging them in front of the family. The men continued staring at her, almost rudely, emboldened as they were by alcohol. They were intent on getting her attention, but Leona remained seemingly aloof. She knew she was pretty, draped in the soft, black wool outfit that showed off her pale complexion and her ash blonde hair. She blew smoke and smiled proudly at her family knowing her admirers were eying her up. Her son also noticed their interest and with a distinct sense of possessiveness, remarked:

"Why are those two guys looking at you like that, Mum?"

"It's because they think mummy is very pretty," said Sophie, knowingly, cuddling up to her mother to demonstrate that Leona was hers and hers alone. This caused Jack to stand up and come over to kiss his mother. She held them both tight against her, tossing her head in the air and laughing, a tinkling, liquid sound which was accompanied by draughts of blue-grey smoke. She felt proud and comforted by the proximity of her children's warm young bodies.

"Nice kids," said the other man who was blond and Scandinavian in colouring.

Leona smiled her appreciation at the remark. The men had been drinking for sure, but seemed warm and friendly and good company and were obviously taken with Leona's family. The waiters brought the dishes. Jack sat down again and laid siege to his sausage with much enthusiasm, while Sophie tried to master the snails with tongs. "They keep skidding away," she remarked. She trapped one and popped it into her mouth before it could escape again. For a few moments, they ate in silence.

From time to time, Leona would look up and across to the adjacent table. On each occasion, she would catch the eyes of one or other of the friends, sometimes the dark one, sometimes the fair one and sometimes both at the same time. She felt herself becoming uneasy. "What a pity I'm not on my own for once," she thought. "They're both rather handsome, these two. I'd find it difficult to choose between them... but then... why choose..? Oh, what a fool I am, anyway, they'll soon be leaving... I'd like to leave, too... I love mother and the children, but how nice it would be to be alone for a few days, to be free and irresponsible for a while, perhaps even a little risqué. Strange how these men attract me... It's reciprocal, they both like me too, it's quite obvious... what should I do..? I'd like to see them again... find out where they live... But I just can't speak to them properly in front of mother and the children... Oh, why-oh-why is life so awkward at times?"

The plates were cleared away and the meat dishes brought on. Increasingly perturbed, she rather tersely dealt with the children's questions. Sophie pulled her by her sleeve:

"You're not even listening to me, Mummy. What are you thinking about?"

Leona kissed her. "I am listening, and I was thinking how bored I will be without you around, sweetie."

"But I will be around. You'll come and see me in the evenings, won't you, Mummy?"

"Of course I will darling...and Nanna. We'll all have dinner together one evening and go and see a movie... don't worry."

Leona tried to feign interest in her own mother's discourse. She was voicing her concerns about the welfare of her grandchildren on holiday. Sophie and Jack were to stay in a hostel with other children close by the resort, while she and Leona had booked a hotel in the town. "They'll be fine, Mum, once they settle in. There are loads of kids their age and they're so well-supervised at the ski-centre. They're really excited about it. Anyway, I thought you were looking forward to having me all to yourself for a few days? We can go shopping for Christmas presents."

Jack was putting in his two-pennyworth, asking whether he would be having the same instructor as the previous year, and if he could still go to the on-site cinema in the afternoons.

Once again, her eyes met the gaze of the two men, compounding her distraction. This time, she didn't break the contact. She could sense their desire was the same as hers - brutal and transparent. She felt her face go hot and looked away. There was something oppressive about their presence, her heartbeat quickened, her hands were becoming clammy, the bottom half of her body turning to lead. Shards of lucidity kept on telling her she was mad, sick, a sexual pervert. She fumbled for another cigarette. It trembled between her fingers. The man who had offered her a light before got to his feet this time and stepped across. A pale yellow flame shivered in the eddy currents of air. Leona took hold of the young man's hand to bring it to the level of her cigarette. He could feel her slender hand shaking. This brief contact caused her inner turmoil, the lighter's flame going out under her breath.

"Oops," said the man. "Guilty conscience? Try again."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up. "I don't know what's the matter with me."

"Too much excitement perhaps?" he said.

She felt herself blushing. Her emotion climaxed as she witnessed the tanned and stirring face of the man with the moustache. His ice-blue eyes bore into her soul. He flicked the lighter back on. Leona breathed the smoke in deeply with great relief. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"Thank you."

"A pleasure," he assured her.

He sat down again, saying something to his friend who was smiling back at him. The arrival of the dessert trolley was a welcome diversion. The children wanted to try everything on offer - the chocolate mousse, the rum-baba, the egg cream, the raspberry pie, the blackcurrant sorbet, the chocolate cake, the iced meringues, the tarte-tatin; their eyes were already devouring every morsel. Leona chose to have only black coffee which brought affected admiration from the first man, saying now he understood why she was so trim. Once again she blushed. Leona laughed kindly at his flattery, and indeed she did feel flattered. She smiled at him and found herself entering into salacious reverie. A scenario of being seduced by two handsome men at the same time unfolded in her mind and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a second or two.

Her mother's voice snapped her back to earth: "We ought to be making a move soon, Leona. We only have ten minutes or so."

Leona glanced at her watch and then at the clock on the wall for confirmation. "My God... I hadn't realized!" The last hour had passed so pleasantly for her. "I'll call the waiter for the bill and ask him to find us a porter."

The time was fast approaching and the train would depart. Leona requested the bill and a porter. The two young men offered to help out with her luggage, but soon stopped smiling when they saw how many cases she had with her.

"Don't worry... I'm going to ask for a porter," said Leona.

"Where are you going?" said the matinee idol.

"Morzine."

"I don't believe it! What a coincidence, so are we," they said together in such harmony that all three burst out laughing.

"Well, the children are the ones doing the skiing. Mother and I are just lending moral support'," added Leona.

The look of disappointment on the faces of the two men when they realised that Leona would not herself be skiing was obvious. Her mother watched her with disapproval while the children looked on with gathering interest. Before they could talk anymore, the waiter had brought the bill and informed them that a porter was on his way to help them.

They reached the train and searched for their allotted berths in the sleeping cars which they located in the middle carriages. Whistles were already blowing and the locomotive's engine was being gunned impatiently by its driver. Wafts of diesel fumes fanned their cold cheeks with warm air as the guard ushered them on board and the porter carried their cases into their cabins.

Once aboard the ticket inspector opened the door connecting the children's and the grandmother's cabin. They moved and jumped between the compartments with uproarious glee. Leona walked out into the corridor, and noticed the two men coming towards her from the other end of the sleeping car. The same emotion that had overcome her in the restaurant returned, only more violent now. She had to admit to herself that she wanted both of them together, that their joint desire was inflaming hers. "I'm a complete freak," she thought. "What's got into me? What would my children think if they knew what I was thinking? They'd be mortified. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself; a woman of forty should know better, should have control of her feelings.

Her thoughts returned to the children, her conscience bringing her back to reality with natural maternal concern for her offspring. Of course she was concerned as a mother and hoped they would be safe. Children didn't see danger. Adults, especially mums and grandmothers saw it at every turn. And what about Sophie? Such a young lady now... she looked thirteen, not ten. Would she once again fall in love with her instructor? Last Christmas she had sworn undying love to an Austrian ski instructor called Stefan. One week after the holiday she had forgotten all about him. How fickle the affections of the young. She wondered if young girls were ever really young at all.

"We were looking for you...Will you come and have a glass of champagne with us? Celebrate the start of the holiday?"

"No, it's very nice of you, thank you. But it's not possible, the train is about to leave."

"But until Morzine we have hours."

"I'm a little tired... and I have to sort out my stuff - my nightwear?"

"Really? Claude and I just dump it all in the cabin and worry about it when we go to bed."

The blond man laughed. "And sometimes not even then. We're usually too drunk to do anything."

The three of them shared the joke, laughing loudly.

"Come on," said Pierre of the moustache. "Just have one drink with us before bed... a glass of wine, perhaps?"

Leona hesitated for a moment, thinking she would really like to, but knowing she just couldn't abandon her mother and family to please herself.

Please say yes, said Claude, the fair one. "We would be most honoured."

Leona let the flattery wash over her. "No, I'd love to, but I really shouldn't. It's very kind of you."

The young men demonstrated their disappointment by entering into a paroxysm of play-acting that would have graced any theatre in France. She laughed at them, and they milked the moment for all it was worth until they were all laughing together, the men taking the opportunity of bumping her gently with their bodies as they fell about.

A final, long shrill whistle sounded and the carriage gave a lurch as the train set in motion. They stood in awkward silence for a moment after their fit of laughing, unsure what to say next. The men stood either side of Leona, kind of boxing her in. Leaning on their elbows in front of the corridor window, they watched in silence as the dark buildings of Parisian suburbs slid past, broken here and there by the occasional light from a window. Pierre put his arm around Leona's waist. She was surprised, yet not surprised. Should she show disapproval and move away, perhaps out of self-respect, politeness? Then again, she didn't want to appear cold and put them off. But then Claude put his arm around her shoulder and her knees went weak.

"You're both very kind... and charming. Look, I'll go and unpack my night stuff and maybe we can meet up later... in the bar? Is that where you'll be?"

"Yes, yes," said Pierre. "That is where we will be. We will wait for you there. You must come... please say you'll come. You are so very beautiful."

"Very beautiful," agreed Claude.

The last lights of Paris whipped past at increasing speed and were soon replaced by the blackness of night. Leona returned to her compartment.

"What was all that laughing out there just now?" said Leona's mother.

"Just sharing a joke with someone, that's all."

"I heard men's voices. Who were you talking to? Was it those men from the restaurant?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Leona looked at her mother and tapped the side of her nose.

Leona's hands were visibly trembling with excitement as she delved in her case for the things she needed overnight. Her excitement was mixed with a lust, a yearning for physical contact, for sexual love. The fact that the two young men were relative strangers added a touch of intrigue and glamour. With strangers there was no axe to grind; one could lose oneself in the anonymity of a situation. That was the beauty and comfort of strangers.

The children were already in bed, but were far too excited to sleep and were chatting away merrily. Leona's mother had busied herself with her knitting. There was a knock at the door. Leona answered it.

"You ordered hot chocolate, Madame?" A uniformed man stood in the corridor with a silver tray carrying a mug of steaming liquid.

"No, I... oh, hang on a minute, monsieur ... Mother? Did you order a hot drink?"

"Yes. That's for me... thank you."

Leona paid the steward and said: "Well, Mother, you're certainly looking after yourself. I think I'll just pop along to the bar. A glass of wine usually helps me sleep. The rocking of the train sometimes keeps me awake and I want to be fresh for the morning."

"Nonsense, Leona. You always sleep like a baby on the train." Her mother issued one of her looks: "I would have thought you'd already had enough this evening. It's almost ten o' clock."

"Why don't you join me?" Leona felt she was on safe ground with her mother already settled down with knitting and drinking chocolate, but she prayed to herself nonetheless that her mother would decline the invitation.

"Somebody's got to stay with the children." Her mother sounded grumpy. Did she suspect something?

Leona went to the bathroom and touched up her makeup and hoped she wasn't being too obvious. When she came out her mother said: "Are you meeting anyone?"

"No?" Should I be?"

"It's just that you've tarted yourself up."

"I've just freshened up, that's all, Mother." For the first time that evening there was irritation in her voice. Did mothers have a sixth sense about certain things, or was it just that they were downright nosey and possessive? "I won't be long," and she went out into the corridor and headed for the restaurant car feeling peeved at her mother.

She didn't see them at first, not at the bar and not seated anywhere. She suddenly felt self-conscious, a lady on her own. People stared at her. She began to feel angry that perhaps the two men had tricked her. No, it wasn't possible. They seemed very genuine and really keen to meet up. Perhaps they had got fed up waiting and already turned in for the night.

"A drink, Madame?" The steward behind the bar polishing glasses was trying to attract her attention. She turned to face him, blushing and feeling rather foolish. "What will it be..?"

"I-I-"

"Here, let me..." She spun round at the sound of a familiar voice. It was Pierre. "Didn't think you were going to show up, and it was so crowded we had to sit at the far end. We saw you come in. I'm so pleased. Claude and I have champagne open. Please... Come and join us." Pierre took hold of her hand and led.

Leona's emotions were a mixture of relief, excitement, confusion and guilt. This wasn't right, she told herself, leaving her children and mother while she went to have a drink with two strangers. Some company she'd turned out to be for her family. But it was only to be one drink, wasn't it? She wasn't out to get drunk and disgrace herself.

She promised to make amends later, telling herself she would spend extra time with the children and take her mother out... to see a film, the theatre, perhaps treat her to a new outfit... there were some good stores in Morzine. The champagne was on chill. Pierre lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and poured a glass for their guest.

"I'm Leona, by the way."

"Let us drink Leona's health," said Pierre, with a flourish of his hand and bowing of head.

They raised their glasses in a toast to Leona and drank wholeheartedly and soon another bottle was ordered. Leona felt the pleasant mellowness of alcohol take over her body. Her hang-ups and inhibitions seemed to drain away. She said things perhaps she wouldn't have said had she been more in control. But for the first time in a long time since her husband had left her, she felt desired, attractive and free of the shackles of responsibility, if only for an hour or so. She felt herself floating, yet in control and animated and surprisingly witty but when Pierre suggested they go back to their cabin for one last drink before turning in for the night she had the good sense to decline.