I Heart Paris. Lindsey Kelk

as if I were mad and then leaped up, poker straight, and grabbed my hand with both of hers.

      ‘Oh, Angela Clark? Of course, I have seen your picture, it is you!’ she gushed, the handshake disappearing into a flurry of air kisses and elaborate hugs. ‘I am Virginie Aucoin, and I am very happy to be helping you.’

      I pulled back slightly, not quite sure what to say. The miserable-looking Belle girl had suddenly morphed into an over enthusiastic puppy, all bright eyes and unable to stand still. She bounced lightly from foot to foot, all the while grinning at me madly.

      ‘Um, well, hello,’ I said, not wanting to upset her. ‘Have you had breakfast? Do you want to get something?’

      ‘I have not. What do you like to eat?’ Virginie asked, turning very serious. ‘Breakfast is very important. We are busy today, yes?’

      ‘Yes?’ I said, letting her drag me out of the lobby. ‘And I would like coffee?’

      She stopped short right outside the doors. ‘Just coffee? Oh Angela, you are already so American. But you must eat also. Follow me.’

      All the way down the narrow stone street, Virginie talked. Happily for uncultured me, her English was fairly brilliant, mainly thanks to the year she’d spent working at US Belle as an intern, which was apparently where she had first come across my blog.

      ‘It was just beginning as I am leaving to return to Paris,’ she explained, turning another tight corner and emerging into a beautiful open space, lined with rows of impressive mansion houses. ‘This is Place des Vosges, very old, very beautiful. Many famous people are living here a long time ago. Do you know the writer Victor Hugo? And Cardinal Richelieu? I wish, one day, myself. It is my dream.’