It had been a wonderful day, Jaselle reflected. No demands had been made on her, but then Daphne was the most undemanding person she had ever met. Everyone else seemed to want a piece of her, and usually Jaselle could deal with that. But Daphne’s light and genuinely friendly nature was a welcomed relief.

They had spent the day wondering around the streets of Paris, talking idly and shopping for clothes. They had gone to the famous street of Faubourg Saint-Honore and walked from side to side, crossing the street in a zig-zag manner, going to Yves Saint-Laurent to Ungaro, Lanvin, Courreges, Guy, Laroche and Jordain for shoes and the latest cosmetics. Once they had made their substantial purchases, they headed for the Avenue Daumesnil, to Jaselle’s favourite café on the beautiful and vast Place Felix Eboue.

There they drank coffee and indulged in rich and sweet crepes. But despite the light heartedness of the atmosphere, Jaselle was concerned about what lay ahead.

The time for her departure had come. She was booked in a first class flight from the de Gaulle Airport to London, and from there, onto Melbourne. She would be leaving in two days.

It was not this that had her feeling apprehensive, but the request she had forming in her mind to ask of Daphne. She had to wait for the right moment to ask it.

They did a little more shopping before Daphne suggested they have dinner together. This met with Jaselle’s approval.

They took a taxi to the Montebello on the Quai Montebello. They took a table on the terrace of the elegant establishment, which afforded them a magnificent view of the light flooded form of the Notre Dame Cathedral.

“I’ve had so much fun today, Jaselle, thank-you,” Daphne said. “It’s not often I get a chance to get away from the gallery, and I didn’t realize how much I needed a break until today. I’m grateful that you came up with this idea, although I have spent so much money!” she exclaimed with a wide and endearing smile.

“Well, I’m glad you got a chance to relax a little. I guess it’s my way of showing you how appreciative I am – that you allowed me to stay with you all this time,” Jaselle said. “Originally, it was meant to be only a couple of weeks, and now I have been here several months.”

Something in Jaselle’s voice must have betrayed her, for a flash of concern crossed Daphne’s face and darkened her brilliant, green eyes.

“Jaselle, it’s time for you to move on then? To go back to Australia?” she asked her.

Jaselle nodded. “Yes.”

Daphne lips pursed together thoughtfully and with understanding. “I am going to miss you dreadfully,” she told her. “And so is Peter,” she concluded, although there was more depth of meaning in her voice on that remark. “He’s grown to care for you very much, Jaselle.”

Jaselle shrugged; a dismissive action. She had no great desire to appear cruel, but just the same, she had no time to dwell on Peter’s feelings.

“When do you leave?”

“In two days.”

“So soon?” Daphne remarked, surprised. She leaned forward a little. “Have you told Peter? Or Celeste?

“No,” Jaselle replied curtly, sipping at her glass of wine.

Daphne expressed concern, stating she didn’t think Celeste would allow Jaselle to just up and leave with only two day’s notice. In fact, she didn’t think Celeste would relinquish her hold of Jaselle easily under any circumstances.

“I have already seen to that,” Jaselle told her. “My contract with Celeste is week by week, by my direction. The contract with Celeste expires on the day I am due to leave.” She paused, deciding that now was the only opportunity she was going to get to ask Daphne to perform for her a very crucial favour. It meant placing in her a great deal of trust, and if Daphne had not been a close and dear friend of Raquel’s, Jaselle would never have considered asking it.

“There’s something I want to ask of you,” she said to Daphne.

“Anything, Jaselle – you know that. We’re friends.”

“It’s important that you do this for me, but it’s just as important that you ask no questions, because I have no desire to lie to you.”

“Jaselle, what are you talking about? Are you in trouble?” Daphne’s expression showed a mixture of concern and confusion.

“No,” she replied. “Perhaps if I show you, it’ll be easier to explain,” she said, and reached for her handbag, taking from it a collection of envelopes.

They were letters, Daphne realized, bound together with an elastic band. She could see that the envelope on top was already stamped and addressed.

Jaselle placed on the table, between her and Daphne. “I want you to mail these for me,” she told her.

Daphne smiled, then laughed, saying she hardly thought mailing a pile of letters was anything worth getting anxious about! She’d expected Jaselle to ask her something slightly more bizarre, although she hadn’t any personal idea as to what that might exactly entail.

Jaselle informed her that there was more to the request than there appeared.

Daphne noted the address on the topmost envelope. The name she saw was unfamiliar to her: Lloyd Crane. She also noticed that it was addressed to a residence in Melbourne, Australia.

“Let me explain to you what must be done, and then you decide whether or not you’ll do it for me,” Jaselle began. Daphne sat in her chair, quiet and all attention focused on her friend.

“These letters must be sent in a particular sequence. As they are now, you would send the top letter first and then the next one second, and so on. I shall telephone you each time to tell you when to send each letter. Also, avoid dropping them into the same post office; choose randomly, and preferably not post offices you would normally go to.”

“All right,” Daphne said slowly, eyeing Jaselle, then the letters with open curiosity. “Is that all?”

“Only that you mustn’t let anyone know about these letters, not even Peter. Especially not Peter,” Jaselle said, reconsidering. “And should any one ever come and confront you about them, you must deny it, no matter what they say or do, do you understand?” Jaselle asked her.

Daphne nodded. “I understand,” she said. She looked at Jaselle kind of coyly. “And I’m not supposed to ask you what this is all about?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you – not even if I wanted to,” she replied. “I can only assure you that you won’t get into trouble, and that it’s nothing illegal.” That was a bold face lie, but she hoped Daphne didn’t recognize it for what it was.

Daphne reflected for a moment, curious and puzzled, and wondering what it was she was considering becoming a party to. But in the end, because friendship was all-important to her, and the trust that went with it, she agreed.

Jaselle didn’t thank her. She just smiled. And there was something like gloating behind her lovely lips, and in her icy core of her blue-grey eyes.

Seth hadn’t long returned to Paris after spending some time back in his native country, and then in Asia, pursuing some business deal that Jaselle had little interest in. He had told her the moment he’d arrived that he was only in Paris for the day and would be returning to London on the next morning to negotiate another deal.

They were dining alone, although tended to by Seth’s butler, eating at the grand table in the dining room. The room reflected the owner’s exquisite taste, as did the entire apartment, decorated in genuine French antique furnishings and collectables.

“You are not the only one leaving Paris tomorrow, Seth,” Jaselle revealed. He looked up at her, questioningly. “I’m taking an evening flight to London… and then onto Australia.”

“This is sudden, isn’t it?” he asked her, sitting back in his chair, frowning.

“No. It’s been my intention all along, as you well know,” Jaselle reminded him. “I had planned to leave last month. But I have enjoyed myself here. My work has profited me some very useful exposure,” she explained.

He seemed saddened by her news. “Paris will never mean as much to me without you here, my lovely one.”

She smiled at him. “You can be so soft sometimes, Seth. Too bad I know you better than that,” she added.

He chuckled. “And I, you, Jaselle,” he countered. “You have a wealth of determination, young lady. But you know that as well as I do, I guess. I won’t try to tell you to stay on here. There’s nothing here that you want now, I reckon - you’ve taken it all, and I admire they way you got it.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then continued.

“No, I reckon there’s something back home – some kind of personal business - that you want to take care of. I can see that glint in those beautiful eyes of yours. Well, go to it, is what I say. You’ll get there,” he assured her with a knowing nod. “Heaven help them,” he added, “but you’ll get there.”

Jaselle didn’t respond. There was no need to. Seth and Jaselle were not dissimilar, she thought, although perhaps their methods were.

At the end of the evening, when the hour was late and Debussy’s music, which had been playing on the compact disc player, came to an end, Jaselle, who had been curled up beside Seth, his gentle arm around her shoulders, rose from the sofa.

She kissed him softly on the cheek. She knew she didn’t have to, that she could go no and not worry about him, but she wanted to. It was a friendly kiss, and that was all; as if they were both French and farewelling a countryman.

When Jaselle was gone, Seth opened his eyes. They glittered with grief. He was a man, all alone in a room, his eyes pained with a lost love.

Instead, she requested that the desk clerk take down a message for her, to be passed onto Saad. The clerk, perplexed, was nonetheless agreeable to the demand.

Jaselle made the message brief. “’Dearest Youssef’,” she relayed to the clerk. “’’Thank-you for some wonderful memories. But it’s time for me to move on. I hope we will forever be friends. Remember: beware of pretty waiters. I’’ be in touch with you again soon. Fondly, Jaselle La Fleur’.”

She checked that the clerk had copied the message correctly. She instructed him that Saad was not to receive it until after nine o’clock that evening. She stressed this point heavily, until she was certain that the clerk understood. Jaselle hung up.

Peter entered the office, closing the door behind him. He sensed the tension instantly. He tried to make himself comfortable in one of the chairs, but felt a little awkward, wondering what it was that he had walked into.

Celeste turned on her heel, staring first at Jaselle, then at Peter. Her eyes were large, round and burning with antagonism.

“Thank you for joining us, Peter,” Celeste said, between tight and grim lips.

“What’s this little tête-à-tête about, Celeste?” Peter asked her.

“Well, it occurred to me that maybe you could talk some sense into her,” came the swift and harsh response. “God knows, I’ve tried!” She said, throwing her hands up into the air, evidently exasperated.

Peter’s expression indicated that he hadn’t the faintest notion of what was going on; he looked from Celeste, to Jaselle, then back to the former.

“Ahh...! I see that she hasn’t told you, either!” She cried, raising an eyebrow for effect.

Jaselle let out a sigh, signaling that she was not impressed by the manner in which Celeste was dealing with her news.

“Miss La Fleur is leaving us,” Celeste told Peter bluntly.

“What?” he cried, and looked to Jaselle. Before he had a chance to ask her why, Celeste cut him off.

“Yes, it seems she is to return to Australia. In fact, so eager is she to get back to that place, she’s leaving tonight for London.”

Peter regarded Jaselle incredulously, unable to accept the suddenness of all of it! There had been no sign that she had been considering leaving Europe. She had seemed so happy with her work and life in general. He could not remember the last time Jaselle had spoken of Australia. He’d begun to get used to the idea that she had made Paris her permanent place of residence.

“Is this right, Jaselle? Why?” he asked her, frowning.

“Yes, it is, Peter. I’m going home.”

His face fell in, and the confusion and disappointment showed in his dark eyes. He shook his head woefully.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Jaselle said coldly, staring deep into his eyes. “I told you from the beginning I intended to return to Melbourne. And I’ve never said anything since then to lead you to believe otherwise,” she pointed out to him.

“I just thought that – “ Peter was again interrupted as Celeste jumped in.

“You’re a fool, Jaselle! Your career is here! With us!” she cried. “Things are just getting good for you. There’s a long and profitable career for you here in Paris. Don’t throw it away. You’ll never get it back, of that I can assure you,” Celeste said gravely. “How can you hope to further your work in a place like Australia?” she asked with a haughty laugh. “That place will kill the career we’ve built for you.”

Jaselle leapt from the chair, to her feet, facing her challengingly. “You built for me? ’You’?” She exclaimed with disbelief. “I made my own career, Celeste. The only help I had was from Peter. Certainly, I used this agency, as you and this agency have used me. But it was Peter and I who worked to get me where I am. You had nothing to do with any of it. I got this agency the only credibility it’s ever had. And without Peter, you would have nothing whatsoever! This agency, without me or Peter, would be just like you, Celeste – something with grand pretensions of being more than it ever could.”

Celeste eyed Jaselle with dark and scarcely controlled rage. “Get out, you ungrateful little slut,” Celeste hissed. “But please do remember: when you have decided you want your career back, feel free to come groveling back to me. Maybe I’ll even take the time to consider it.”

Jaselle eyed her with something like mock pity before rising from her chair and turning to leave. She offered no more comment or insults. She closed the door quietly behind her.

“Good riddance to the little diva!” Celeste spat.

Peter swept his hand through his hair, leaning forward in his seat, reflecting on the ugly events and the news of Jaselle’s imminent departure, realizing – as grim sickness seized his belly - that he was about to lose her. He could find no place in his heart, or his mind, where there was strength enough to see him through it, nor could a logic argument be found to assure Peter that he was better off with her out of his life.

He knew Jaselle was hiding something; he knew she could be cold, distant and some times even cruel. But he loved her, because she had a goodness that matched each one of her darker qualities. He was also sure that, despite her rebuttals and quick, biting cruelties, Jaselle needed him. He believed that. He had to.