In the Interlude

Chapter 4 - The Big Wheel

It was still dark outside when Aïcha woke up on Thursday morning. She laid out her clothes for the day on the bed, took a quick shower then stretched out on the bed again, fully clothed.

She closed her eyes remembering her mornings with Idriss and Mia. Her husband, an early riser, always woke up without a clock alarm. He would do a quick workout before taking a shower then prepare breakfast for everyone in the house. All she had to do was to drag herself to the kitchen where a steamy mug of tea awaited her and sit across an over-excited Mia eating her cereal, retelling stories about school and recess and friends, all very important things of her little world.

Idriss was always on Aïcha's mind, but sometimes it was harder for her to start her day with her memories of him so vivid. Today was one of those days, she reflected. She opened her eyes and sat up in bed gazing through the window. The light was fighting its way through the last dark hours of the night.

She made a silent prayer for her husband as she did every morning and joined Sofia and her family for breakfast in the kitchen. A steamy mug of tea awaited her.

Finally heading out for the day, Aïcha stood at the doorway. The sun hid behind the clouds. No doubt, it was going to be one of those wet April days. She patted her bag and smiled when she felt the shape of her small umbrella. She was ready to handle anything life threw at her that day, even allowed herself to think that everything was going to be just fine.

Somewhere in Paris, Tom headed back to his hotel after his morning run. The menacing clouds in the sky didn't stop him from running through the Tuileries, marvelling at how Paris awakened slowly but surely around him.

He loved running. The fresh air in his lungs, the whistling breeze in his ears, his mind free from everything. From his commitments. From his twenty-four seven functioning brain. He had only to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and holding his rhythm as long as he could.

After a quick shower and a light breakfast, Tom was ready to face the day. Charlotte, his French publicist and friend, waited for him in the lobby. A photo shoot and another interview were scheduled for the day. "Bonjour Tom!" she kissed him on both cheeks, French style.

"Hello! You look lovely this morning Charlotte."

"Merci! You're not bad yourself. Ready to go?"

"Yep," he replied with a genuine smile.

* * * * *

The wind was picking up and the rain threatening to fall as Aïcha stepped out of her accountant's office. Her umbrella in hand, she planned in her head the best way to get to her next appointment near Place de la Concorde. She turned towards Gobelin station, caught the métro and arrived around noon, ten minutes to spare before her scheduled rendezvous, and briskly walked to the building around the corner.

Aïcha was an independent Digital Marketing consultant, advising brands and companies on how to connect with Millennial parents. She had worked for a prestigious agency in Paris handling big accounts and clients. But as her life circumstances changed and she moved to Casablanca, she had to make more time for her personal life and couldn't juggle the demanding clients and office hours and everything else in her life.

Being an independent consultant was far from being easy.

She needed to find new clients, build proposals and negotiate budgets. She needed to deliver, on time, flawlessly and beyond expectations to make her clients rehire her for other projects and recommend her to other potential clients. She had to do her own accounting, file taxes, network, keep up-to-date with the fast-paced industry.

But this job she created for herself was one of her life's little accomplishments. She hoped to get the London account as it was offering a well-paid six-months remote consulting opportunity. And she only needed to be in their London offices one week a month.

It was lunchtime when Aïcha finished her meeting. She looked for a quiet place nearby to have a quick meal and organise her notes, but the area was on every tourist's radar. Groups of them were blocking the way to snap a picture with La Grande Roue de la Concorde. She grabbed a sandwich instead and headed directly to her favourite co-working office a couple of métro stations from there.

Stuck in traffic in Place de la Concorde, Tom and Charlotte sat silently in the back of the car. Lost in his thoughts, he followed the walking crowd with his eyes. Business executives, young students and mums or nannies with toddlers and babies tried to claim the streets where groups of tourists huddled around for a souvenir picture featuring the gigantic wheel that reminded him so much of the London Eye.

And then there was this woman in rouge tights that caught Tom's eyes, struggling to keep down her blue dress in this windy weather. He blinked twice. Was that Aïcha? He reached for his wallet taking out her business card.

Tom knew he wanted to see her again. He knew since he laid eyes on her on the Eurostar.

Yet something nagged inside him. Aïcha hadn't recognised him right away but she was a fan of his work, or so she said. Maybe she was one of the crazy ones that would end up stalking his whereabouts and tweet over-enthusiastically about him for the world to read?

Tom loved being an actor and couldn't imagine himself doing anything else in life. But he missed the anonymity. Missed meeting people that knew nothing about him. Now, they all had a preconceived idea in their mind, an idea that was far from the real him.

He had very much enjoyed their brief conversation in the Eurostar. Just two strangers meeting, talking, knowing nothing or very little about each other, leaving the door open for many possibilities. But even knowing eventually who he really was, she didn't ask for an autograph or a selfie. And that, he had to admit, seldom ever happened.

And why did he want to meet her again? Intrigued by her, he admitted to himself that he spent an awful amount of time thinking about someone he just met. He was going to call her, it was decided.

As far as Aïcha was concerned, Tom was not on her mind anymore. She had bigger fish to fry. A new proposal to write and send by the end of business day and not a lot of time left before meeting her friends for drinks. Arriving at the co-work space, she chose a remote corner and sat down. She fired up her laptop, put her headphones on for music and her phone on mute then started drafting the proposal. She didn't see the unknown number that called twice.

It was just before six in the afternoon when Aïcha hit the send button, satisfied with her work. Stretching in her chair, she rubbed her eyes and yawned silently before taking out her phone. Two missed calls from the same unknown number. She called back.

A low raspy voice answered at her first Allô.

"Aïcha? This is Tom, Tom Hiddleston. We met yesterday?" He cursed himself silently. Of course, she knew who he was and that they met yesterday.

"Oui, bien sûr. I do remember you of course. How could I not," she teased, feeling more like herself. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He could picture her vibrant brown eyes sparkling with her smile. "I'm in Paris as you know and I was wondering if you're free for a coffee tomorrow afternoon?"

"You want to have coffee with me?" she repeated before she could stop herself.

"Yes indeed." He added laughing, "I remember you promised me some sightseeing tips for Morocco, where to go, where to eat, this kind of thing."

"I don't want to have coffee with you," she stopped for a second before adding, "but if it's a cup of tea and a pastry, I might just say yes."