Last Saturday, a photo service emailed me a “memory.” It was a picture I took of tombstones in a Paris cemetery. The caption, “Bring your memories to life,” made me laugh. 

Six years ago, I had finished writing the draft of A Moon Garden and was becoming frustrated at my lack of success in finding a literary agent. I didn’t want to let my creative drive diminish, so I wrote the plot outline for a second historical novel. This one would center on the world of opera, with the action to take place in New York, London, and Paris.

In January 2019, I made my first solo trip to London, where I went to the Royal Opera and saw an amazing performance. After a brief stay in Covent Garden, I went to St. Pancras International Station and boarded a train for Paris.

It was snowing, which slowed the train and delayed our arrival by a couple of hours. By the time I got to my hotel on Rue Lepic in Montmartre, it was after dark. I got settled into my tiny room, then went across the street to a tavern. A simple dinner of roast chicken and fried potatoes was one of the best meals I ever had.

I was only going to be in Paris for two nights. Aside from strolling around Montmartre and getting a feel for the place, I wanted to see the grave of Gabrielle Anne Cisterne de Courtiras, vicomtesse de Saint-Mars (1804-1872) at the Cimetière de Montmartre. She had been a prolific author and wrote many historical novels under the alias Countess Dash. None of her works had been translated into English, and my knowledge of French is extremely limited, so I had never read anything by her. Nevertheless, the little I knew about her life made me curious to know more. 

When I got to the cemetery the next morning, I had no idea where her grave was. The cemetery director was kind enough to look it up and provide me with a map. He was interested to learn that Countess Dash had been a good friend of Alexandre Dumas, père, and he informed me that Dumas’s son, Alexandre Dumas, fils, was buried at the Cimetière de Montmartre. 

I told the director that Giuseppe Verdi had seen the play La Dame aux camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils, and that had inspired him to write La traviata, which I had just seen at the Royal Opera.

The gentleman nodded his head as I spoke. “Yes,” he said. “And La Dame aux camélias was based on the life of one of Dumas’s lovers, a courtesan named Marie Duplessis. She is buried here too. In fact,” he added, “Her grave is the one that is most visited.”

The day was overcast and cold, but at least it wasn’t snowing. With map in hand, I stepped out of the director’s heated office and set out to find the grave of Countess Dash. I could tell right away that it was not going to be easy. The paths were narrow, and it was hard to read some of the grave markers. It seemed like I had been wandering for a long time, and I was about to turn around. Then I saw the black cat.

Maybe a black cat crossing your path is supposed to bring bad luck, but this one seemed to represent a good omen. After all, the black cat is a symbol of Montmartre, thanks to the iconic poster by Théophile Steinlen of Le Chat Noir, a cabaret that opened in 1881 and closed in 1897.

I didn’t realize that the critter was actually standing on the gravestone directly next to the tomb of Countess Dash. But as I started walking towards it, I was distracted by a second black cat.

And then I saw a third one.

And a fourth one.

The second cat was on the move, so I followed it. When it stopped, so did I. To my surprise, I was standing at the grave of the Countess.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Montmartre. Unlike London, where I get lost all the time, I never had any trouble finding my way around this small enclave of Paris. It felt oddly familiar to me, although I had never been there before.

All too soon, I was on a train, heading back to London. As I stared out the window at snow-covered fields of Calais, I didn’t know that I was about to put a hold on my plan to write a novel about opera. The next day, while on a private tour of Buckingham Palace, something I saw in one of the state rooms completely shifted the direction of my life.