She was surprised other visitors to the colonnes weren’t able to hear her mum’s ranting. She spoke a little softer herself. ‘Nothing’s going on. We arrived, we’ve settled in and I told you we have the most amazing room with a view of the Eiffel Tower…’
‘But she’s not met you yet? I knew this would happen! I said to your father, I said it’s all splashing out on Eurostar tickets here and sleek hotels there and it’s all very generous and attractive but now we know, don’t we?’
What did her mum know? ‘I don’t—’
‘She’s playing with you, Keeley. Toying with your emotions. In my book club we all read this story about this rich, perfect woman who we all imagined looked like Susan Sarandon and really it was all a façade. In reality “Susan” was a penniless whore who prayed on the vulnerable.’
‘Mum, it’s not like that. I’m actually meeting her for lunch today. Near the Louvre.’
‘If she shows up.’ There was an exasperated sigh. ‘In this book, “Susan” had a whole host of excuses why she couldn’t be one place or another. Of course really she’s burying bodies of the people that crossed her and—’
‘Mum, why did you give Rach a load of my medication to bring here?’
Keeley had pounced into the conversation with the only ammunition against this mad book club analogy she had. The fact her mum had pushed her anti-rejection drugs on her friend. Apparently, because she had to take tablets for the rest of her life and look after her well-being more than most, her mum had gone back to treating her like she was six.
‘I… didn’t know if you would remember so I was, covering all the bases… ow! Ooo! You’re alive!’
Keeley baulked, taking the phone away from her ear for a moment and looking at the screen. Had she been cut off? What was her mother doing? ‘Mum? What’s happening there?’
‘Nothing. Nothing. I’m just… opening a few windows and…’
‘Windows? It’s December. And you said you were out on errands.’
‘I’m on my way to do errands. In a minute. And a house still needs airing even in the winter and… your father unleashed his festive shallots last night. You remember the festive shallots? Bea always…’
Immediately Lizzie stopped talking and Keeley could feel the shard of grief coming down through the connection. Some of the Andrews family still seemed to be at the stage where the memories were still too painful to reminisce about.
‘Everything here is fine, Mum,’ Keeley told her. ‘I’m going to meet Silvie later today and I will call you and tell you how it went.’ She could see that Rach had finished her phone call and was heading back towards her, inappropriate-for-walking-heeled boots stabbing at the snow.
‘You promise?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Yes, of course. Now… tell me where you are because I don’t think you’re at home and you don’t sound quite like yourself.’ She had a sudden thought. ‘You’re not doing that circus skills course are you? Because you said you’d gone off that idea.’
‘Oops!’ Lizzie interjected. ‘There goes the dinger on the microwave. I’ll speak to you later, darling. Stay warm! Bye!’
And with that, the call was over. Keeley pocketed her phone and smiled at Rach. ‘How was Roland?’
‘Surprisingly calm for someone having to deal with a complaint,’ Rach said, sucking in a breath as she put her phone away.
‘It wasn’t the flat with the dog with two sets of teeth was it? I thought he wasn’t allowed to be left on his own anymore.’
‘No, it was Mr Peterson’s place,’ Rach replied as they walked forward across the square. ‘Jamie only went and showed an elderly couple around before Roland had got someone in to give it a once over.’
Keeley opened her mouth in horror. ‘Oh God.’
‘Yeah,’ Rach said. ‘Think a not-yet-dead badger pouncing from the breakfast bar and nabbing dentures.’
‘I can see it. I can actually visualise it.’
‘So,’ Rach said with a confident nod, ‘you might be a little apprehensive about this lunch later, but things could definitely be worse. You could be poor Mr and Mrs Ackroyd.’
‘OK,’ Keeley breathed. ‘A little perspective was exactly what I needed.’
Rach sniffed and stood in front of one of the black and white striped columns, regarding it like it was a still life model. ‘What do you think of these then? And why did some random mark them on a map for your attention? I think they look a little bit creepy.’
‘I think maybe them looking out of place is what makes them special. It’s the contrast. They’re different to everything else here.’ Keeley splayed her arms. ‘See?’
‘They’re totally ugly in my opinion,’ Rach said. ‘Look like a stick of rock. Or some trousers Miley Cyrus once wore.’ She smiled. ‘Come on, let’s go and try and see the Mona Lisa before lunch. Now there’s a woman with never-aging class. Sorry, Miley.’
Twenty-One
Café Marly, Paris
‘Are you sure this is the place?’
Keeley whispered the question through juddering teeth. It wasn’t the cold. There was actually the brightest of winter sunshine now and a cloudless blue sky, the wind had also dropped away. It meant the snow on the pavements was starting to melt even further, a lot of the cobbles and concrete now only containing the faintest smudges of white. No, Keeley’s lips were quivering with nerves, and coupling that with the fact they were standing at the edge of an eatery that looked very much like it had been placed inside a holy building, she had never felt more out of place. Tables lined the cream-stone arcades as if they were intruding into reverential cloisters. Outside of the colonnade was the impressive Pyramide du Louvre – all sharp edges of glass and metal compared to this stoa of soft granite and age.
Rach didn’t immediately answer and Keeley saw her friend was tapping on the screen of her phone. ‘Rach, are you sure this is the place?’
‘Yes!’ Rach said, not even looking up. ‘We followed the directions Antonie gave us and we set Google Maps. Sorry, I’ve just got to reply to this email a minute.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on holiday?’ As soon as the words were out, Keeley felt immediately guilty for saying them. She had asked Rach here and Rach had said yes almost straightaway. A free vacation or not, there were many other things Rach could be doing with her precious time off from the estate agency…
Keeley put her hands in the pockets of her coat and tried to look natural. Easier said than done when your heart was thumping as if someone was bashing it like a Scottish pipe band drummer. Was Silvie here already? She scanned the diners for the vibrant fifty-something with a glossy handbag to match her hair she had conjured up in her mind.
There were quite a number of people enjoying the winter sunshine and the food. Others had simple coffees and an accompanying biscuit. Was there a woman sitting on her own? Would Silvie actually be on her own? What about Ferne’s father? She hadn’t thought to ask. Maybe this meeting wasn’t going to be just the three of them…