We'll alway S have Paris

In Katie Bishop's story, husband Richard takes Maddie on a make or-break trip to the city of romance but can it save their marriage?

The statue on the platform of St Pancras looms high above Maddie. Two lovers entwined, their bronze arms knotted around each other, their faces close. A reunion or a goodbye – Maddie isn’t sure which it is supposed to depict. She remembers thinking that it was romantic the first time she saw it, but now she feels as if the whole thing was constructed specifically to mock her.

“I got us some sandwiches to eat on the Eurostar,” Maddie’s husband staggers up behind her, weighed down by bags, a tuna mayo clutched in one hand. “Probably costs about a tenner for a bag of crisps, once you’re on the train.”

Maddie takes the cardboard packet from him with only the briefest of longing glances at the champagne bar feet away from them.

“Thanks,” she says. “Tuna. My favourite.” 

Richard nods, looking pleased with himself.

“Come on then,” he says. “Almost time to board.”

They had gone to Paris on their honeymoon, Maddie and Richard. It was 15 years ago, although to Maddie it feels both much further away and much closer all at once, time growing soupy and stretched the older they both get.

They were in their early 20s and Paris was all that they could afford. They had stayed in a run-down B&B in Montmartre with curtains that let in streams of yellow light. They had missed the complimentary breakfast every morning, sleeping late, spending hours in bed. Maddie would send Richard out for coffee and croissants instead and they would scatter crumbs all over the bedsheets.