Although, it was also true, when Ethan had been caught not knowing the direction the chain should go in, when Noel had been talking ‘confetti canons’ and ‘giant baubles as big as the moon’, getting out of the business had crossed his mind. So why now was he thinking the sale was completely outrageous? Why was his brain saying a definite ‘no way’? Because he hadn’t raised the subject first? Because it was Louis’s plan? No, it was simply and definitely because the idea that Ferne’s hard work, her dream, was going to be handed to the highest bidder and that was simply too much to take.
He picked up his pen and made another dot on the map he had laid out on the table in front of him. Why he was doing this he didn’t really know. Except he had half a dozen places marked already. Places that were special and held memories. Most of them he had visited with Ferne. He marked the page then dropped the pen with an audible groan. Quickly he realised that the noise hadn’t gone unnoticed over the party atmosphere of some of the other patrons and they were now looking at the loner drinking brandy from Normandy. Why did everything still come back to Ferne?
Ethan shook his head. As much as he loved and missed her, he had thoughts of his own. Ideas of his own. He hadn’t simply been the extension to his best friend everyone thought he was. He needed to find himself again. And raging against Louis was going to help. They couldn’t sell the brand without him. He was certain of that. Well, he would be wholly certain of that once he had checked in with his lawyer. It was time for action.
He dotted another location on the map then looked out of the window onto the darkening street. It was starting to snow.
Twenty
Palais-Royal, Paris
Welcome to Paris. I hope you enjoyed the afternoon tea and Noel’s guided tour yesterday and I hope everything is satisfactory with your room. I would very much like you to join me for lunch today. I have booked a table at Café Marly for 1 p.m. The concierge, Antoine, can give you directions. I am so looking forward to meeting with you.
‘It’s not going to change you know,’ Rach said, nudging Keeley’s arm. ‘Messages don’t mysteriously alter their meaning on an hour by hour basis.’
Keeley’s eyes still tracked over the words again. This text from Silvie had come in while they were eating breakfast earlier. And it was about lunch. Today. She checked her watch. It was 11 a.m. now and she and Rach were visiting Palais-Royal and the apparently controversial Colonnes de Buren – black and white striped pillars of varying heights that were described as ‘a striking show of modern architecture amid the historic’ in one guidebook they had looked at. Antoine had described them as ‘grotesque cylinders that mocked the city’. Even Rach had laughed at that.
‘I know,’ Keeley breathed. ‘I’m just nervous that’s all.’ She lifted her head from her phone screen and stepped forward, her boots crunching on the fine layer of snow that had fallen last night.
‘I’d be more nervous about the fact some stranger knows your name and left you a map at reception,’ Rach said.
‘Oh, well, about that, Rach. Actually…’
‘Shit, that’s my phone ringing again!’ Rach said, dipping her fingers down into her bag and pulling out her mobile. ‘It’s Roland. The third time he’s called so I’d better…’ She answered and stepped a little away from Keeley, turning her back to the wind. ‘Hello.’
Keeley now had the promised map. Somewhen between their going up to their suite last night and coming down to breakfast this morning, the mysterious penguin-carrier – Ethan – had left the map for her attention. She really must tell her friend that the map-giver wasn’t a complete stranger. They had shared a tumble to the pavement after all…
Palais-Royal and the colonnes were one of the places marked on that map. Not exactly a hidden attraction but, admittedly, it wasn’t as Top Ten as the Louvre or Versailles. Except, with this impending lunch, Keeley didn’t really have the capacity in her mind to think about the hot guy she knew Erica would have told her to nail to the floor if she’d been allowed to finish her sentence on FaceTime yesterday.
Keeley looked up at the building with its many windows – some arched, some oblong and leaded, column-lined walkways making it reminiscent of ancient Rome. As she approached the black and white structures all over the large courtyard she was struck by a thought. Had Ferne Durand been here? Had she once stood in this very spot and admired it all? It felt a little strange to be standing here in Paris, Keeley’s reason for being in Paris and stood here, entirely down to someone else. She drew in a breath, kicking a little of the snow that was already starting to decrease as the temperature rose just a little. And then her phone began to ring. Straightaway she wondered whether it was Silvie, cancelling their lunch. Then she worried it was Erica or, worse still, one of the nurses with news of Erica. She grabbed her phone from her bag and checked the screen…
Mum
She answered. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh, hello darling! Or, should I say, “bonjour”? What time is it there?’
‘It’s an hour later than with you. Just after eleven.’
‘Are you wrapped up warm?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Your father’s been checking the forecast and it said snow for today. Is there snow? Are you wearing a hat? And gloves. Do you have gloves?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ Keeley replied. She wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves. She was still worried the hair dye would stain anything she put in close contact of it. There was definitely a taint on her pillow this morning completely like there had been the one and only time Bea had got her to try fake tan…
‘Yes, you’re wrapped up or yes, there’s snow? Are you outside? It sounds like you’re outside.’
‘I am outside,’ Keeley replied, taking a breath of the cold air and appreciating her surroundings with a little bit more awareness. ‘Rach and I are sightseeing this morning. And there is snow, but only a little bit.’ But it was fresh and white and crisp and was currently making Keeley feel a little Christmassy.
‘So… what’s she like?’ Lizzie blurted out. ‘I don’t want to crowd you, or interfere, or say or do any of the things I always get condemned for, but… you’re in France and I’m not and I… need to know!’ There was harried breathing then that sounded like someone on a bike. Except Lizzie didn’t do exercise unless it involved making shapes with her body or full-contact combat.
‘Where are you, Mum?’
‘Me? Oh, I’m… you know… just on errands.’ There was a spit of laughter. ‘Your father wants me to do something ludicrous with his darts at the sports shop. Sharpening the flights… or was it the tips? I don’t know. Phil Taylor issues.’
‘Mum—’
‘Anyway,’ Lizzie butted in again. ‘Don’t change the subject. Tell me… what this Silvie is like. Is she glamourous? Because I’ve been imagining her glamourous.’
Keeley glanced at her watch. Time seemed to be going super slowly today when she was both anxious and excited about the meeting later. ‘Well… I haven’t actually met Silvie yet.’
‘What?! What d’you mean you haven’t met her yet? You’ve been there for days! On her invitation! What’s going on? Keeley, you tell me now, what’s going on?!’