L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Tour Eiffel, Paris
The afternoon tea spread was glorious. Four tiers of food ranging from rectangular-cut sandwiches – egg mayonnaise, salmon and cucumber, a soft cheese with chives, thick ham with a bright yellow chutney – to scones with pots of fresh cream and strawberry jam, then cakes (chocolate eclairs, tarte citron, Paris-Brest and macarons). Keeley could see that Rach was ready to dig in. Her friend had furled and unfurled her napkin several times and had carefully turned the display a full three-sixty twice, her fingers grazing the edge of the scones as if trying to ‘accidentally’ loosen a crumb or six… Keeley looked at her watch again. It was ten past three. It was official. Silvie was late.
‘She’s probably stuck in traffic,’ Rach said, doing her best-friend mindreading again.
‘Yes,’ Keeley said. She lifted herself off the chair a little and flattened down her taupe-coloured woollen skirt. She had quickly changed out of her jeans before they came down to the dining room, feeling as if she wanted to be a touch smarter for the meeting, even after everything she and Rach had discussed over that Parisian view from the top of the tower. Making an effort didn’t have to mean her everyday was ordinary, just that she regarded this meeting as important. It was kind of momentous really.
‘The traffic is mental here,’ Rach continued, fingers tracing the rim of one of the elegant plates. ‘More than the Blackwall Tunnel kind of mental.’
‘Yes,’ Keeley replied. She looked towards the door again. She had already decided exactly what Silvie was going to look like. She would be tall. She would be one of those French women who oozed confidence from the balls of their designer-boots-clad feet to the crown of their thick, luscious hair. She would have dark hair, long but well-managed. She would carry a large handbag full of expensive make-up products with a purse containing business cards for all the best boutiques. Somehow Keeley sensed Silvie would give off all the strong and successful.
‘You’re not listening, are you?’ Rach said, interjecting into Keeley’s thought process.
‘Sorry… I was… it’s just…’
‘I know,’ Rach said. ‘It’s gone three and she’s late and you’re worried she’s not coming.’
It was exactly that. Surely Keeley wasn’t going to have come all this way, having been invited here, to be stood up. It had to be traffic, didn’t it?
‘Excusez-moi, there is something wrong with your food?’
‘Bloody hell, Antonie! You scared the shite out of me!’ Rach exclaimed.
‘It is Antoine,’ the concierge replied through gritted teeth yet still with a smile on his face. ‘You do not like the afternoon tea selection?’
‘No,’ Keeley answered, patting an imaginary crease out of her skirt. ‘That is, yes, I’m sure it’s delicious but—’
‘We are waiting for someone,’ Rach told the man. ‘In England it’s rude to start eating before everyone’s arrived… unless you’re really really hungry and haven’t eaten anything since breakfast… hours ago.’
‘You are waiting for another guest?’ Antoine pulled a face like this was news to him and removed a small electronic device from the pocket of his trousers. He started to tap at it with his long, slim fingers, eyes visibly flitting from side to side as he checked out the screen.
‘Yes,’ Keeley answered. ‘Mrs… I mean, Madame Durand? She booked the afternoon tea with you?’ Keeley’s mouth felt arid. Never mind eating, she really did need to drink something soon. Could you get dehydrated in close-to-freezing temperatures?
‘Ah! My apologies,’ Antoine said, eyes coming away from the device. ‘Maybe I was not clear. Madame Durand made the booking for only two people. You, Ms Andrews and…’ He looked at Rach. ‘Your guest.’
‘It’s Rach,’ Rach answered huffily, pulling down her micro-mini.
‘Oh,’ Keeley said, disappointment taking hold of her insides and shaking them like a tambourine. ‘I assumed she would be joining us.’
‘Antoine!’
‘Excuse me, Ms Andrews… Rash…’ He left their table.
‘Did he just call me Rash?!’ Rach exclaimed, infuriated. ‘Bloody nerve of him!’
Keeley felt completely deflated. The moment the afternoon tea had been mentioned on their arrival she had imagined meeting Silvie and starting to get to know more about Ferne. Initially, she might have thought it was too soon, but now she had all that anticipation followed by… nothing.
‘Let’s look on the bright side,’ Rach said, fingers already crawling towards the sandwiches. ‘At least we can start on the food.’
Except there was no bright side right at this moment. It had been a whole giant sizzling bonfire of emotions and expectations and now it was as if someone had hosed the whole thing down with everything a fire hydrant had to offer. Keeley rose from her chair again, but this time she wasn’t going to untuck her skirt.
‘I… need to get some fresh air.’
‘Keels,’ Rach said, seeming to be caught between getting up too and stuffing a salmon sandwich in her mouth.
‘It’s OK. I… just need some air and… a minute. I need a minute.’ Suddenly it felt like the ultra-contemporary and sumptuous surroundings in the restaurant were crowding her. It was all different and… foreign and currently Keeley was feeling a little misled. She ignored Rach’s second attempt to get her to stop and instead, grabbed her coat and hurried from the room. Removal men were attempting to install a very large Christmas tree in reception and pine needles were scattering all over the floor. Baubles slipped off boughs and dropped to the tiles. It was chaos she didn’t need. She headed to the exit.
Maybe her mum had been right. Was it better not to know anything about her donor and her family? Keep a distance? Had Silvie perhaps also had second thoughts about the whole thing? Keeley ignored the revolving door and instead opted to push at the smaller door next to it. She needed that rush of real air and she needed it now. Barrelling through, she waited for the icy temperatures to hit her cheeks…
‘Ow!’
Instead something hit her – and not just on her cheeks. It was full-on body contact with something hard and firm and she was currently spiralling her way down to the pavement.
Fifteen
‘Non!’ a voice ordered. ‘Non! Non! Non!’
There was a loud clatter and for a millisecond, Keeley thought it was her body meeting the cobbles, but it wasn’t her bones that were breaking, it was her fall. Two strong arms were underneath her and she was suspended, gazing upwards, the strong winter sunlight refracting and making it almost impossible to see anything. Although… Focusing, her breath catching in her chest, Keeley made out the features of the person who was holding her. Dark wavy hair, a little tousled, angular features including a not unattractive nose, and rather appealing grey eyes…
The man said something else in French and Keeley couldn’t reply. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she didn’t have the local vocabulary or because she was winded.
‘Can you stand?’ the man asked, tipping her upright almost in a move like he was trying to rid her of vertigo.