‘Ah,’ Louis spoke up. ‘Unfortunately Keeley was…’
‘Not feeling well,’ Rach chipped in. ‘A temperature and a sore throat. Only a slight one. Nothing major.’
‘You are sick?’ Silvie questioned, putting all her focus on Keeley. Her concerned look forced Keeley to munch until she had to swallow.
‘No, she’s fine,’ Rach said. ‘She’s fine now. But she was a little, tiny bit, under the weather for the ballet. So, I met Louis in her place.’
Silvie’s expression was suddenly a mix of disappointment and upset and the woman reached for the wine bottle before any of her staff could get there to do it for her. Topping up her glass she looked to Louis. ‘You did not tell me.’
‘I…’ Louis started, sounding flummoxed. ‘I told you the ballet was wonderful and that we had a very nice time.’
‘Yes,’ Silvie hissed. ‘But I presumed you had gone to the ballet with Keeley!’
‘I thought the ballet was wonderful too,’ Rach jumped in. ‘I even cried. And I don’t really cry at stuff like that. You know, I’m more of a “got my finger caught in the coffee machine” kind of crier than the emotional kind.’
Keeley reached out and put a hand on Silvie’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t go to the ballet. I was going to. I thought about it, maybe even a little too much and then, I don’t know, it all suddenly felt… a bit too much. And I know that sounds incredibly selfish when you’ve invited me here and everything but… I thought you would understand.’ She took a breath. ‘I hoped you would understand.’
Keeley waited then, watching for Silvie’s reaction. She hoped she hadn’t upset her host and irrevocably changed the dynamic between them. Silvie had said there was no pressure. But perhaps she hadn’t meant that quite as sincerely as she said she had.
‘Mother—’ Louis began.
‘It is alright,’ Silvie breathed, offering Keeley a small smile. ‘When we have finished the goose, shall we go to see Ferne’s room?’
Keeley nodded. ‘Yes. I would really like that.’
Forty-Seven
‘Voila,’ Silvie said later, opening the door of one of the rooms upstairs.
They had finished the main course and were waiting for the chef – yes, Silvie had a chef – to arrive with the dessert. While Rach seemed slightly wine-besotted with Louis, Keeley was now eager to see inside Ferne’s space.
The door swung back and revealed the kind of sized room most people would kill for their central living space, let alone a bedroom. It was so vast it could easily have been sectioned off into a sleeping area, a sitting area with even room for a full bathroom if required. It was like a whole apartment, something Keeley envisaged sharing with Rach when they began their accommodation search. Keeley hesitated on the threshold for a moment, until Silvie urged her forward. ‘Please, go inside.’
Keeley stepped inside the cavernous area, eyes roving, picking out this and that and trying to capture everything there was to learn about her donor. This bedroom seemed pristine, like maybe time had stopped. For some reason she could envisage drawers being open, clothes with sleeves draping down from the units, open make-up pallets with stray brushes, music in the air…
‘It’s beautiful,’ Keeley breathed. Maybe it wasn’t to her own taste, but it was divine in design. With its flocked wallpaper – a pink and silver embellishment that seemed to speak of the liking for both finery and girlie – the bed a king-size with a mattress so thick you might need a step to launch yourself onto it and cushions – silk, fur, feather, sequins – it was, without a doubt, a perfect boudoir.
‘Ferne was a little spoiled,’ Silvie admitted. ‘She was my only daughter. And she was really… how do you say in English? A daddy’s girl.’
Keeley smiled. ‘My mum would say the same about me.’
‘Would she be right?’ Silvie asked.
‘No,’ Keeley admitted freely. ‘But my mum has always been the one to hand out the tough love. While my dad is the one Bea and I could sweet talk into anything.’
Silvie smiled then as they edged further into the room. ‘Pierre was always sweet-talked by Ferne. If it had been up to him, our house would have been filled with dogs and candy floss, with members of Ferne’s latest boy band obsessions coming on weekends.’ She sighed. ‘He was always a little harder with Louis.’
Keeley stepped on into the room, her feet sinking into the soft pile of the carpet. This was the suite of a princess. At first glance it could be the sleeping palace of a child, but there were touches of Ferne the young woman too. A pin-board of photographs on one wall, a map of the world with pins in it – destinations she had been or ones she would now never get to? – a computer station with an Apple Mac lying dormant, a coffee mug full of pens, unopened letters, a cactus plant…
‘When Pierre died I went through everything and only kept what we really needed to save. But with Ferne, somehow, I… could not bear to let anything go,’ Silvie admitted, her voice tight. ‘She had her own apartment but she almost always stayed at home.’
‘I understand,’ Keeley breathed. ‘Bea’s room at home… well, before… we lost her… she was always talking about changing her décor. She wanted me to help her and we had looked at hundreds of magazines and style brochures I’d ordered and she never could make up her mind on furnishings. Bea liked to be surrounded by practical and calm. The only thing she had settled on was knowing she wanted it painted a light, soft shade of aqua.’ Keeley shook her head. ‘I remember my dad arriving at the door of her room in the summer, a huge tin of aqua paint in his hand, telling my mum he was going to paint it the colour Bea had always wanted it.’ Tears were gathering in her eyes now. ‘My mum went mad. It was change. It might have been what Bea had talked about and planned out, but it wasn’t the same now she wasn’t around. My dad thought it would help us move on, remember Bea by turning her room into how she wanted it but… my mum… and I… wanted to hold on to everything of Bea that was left. Just the way she left it. Her finger marks on the door frame, the sheen of hairspray across the mirror, the last pillowcase she lay her head on that my mum presses her nose against even now.’
A tear began to slide down Keeley’s face, and she looked to Silvie, finding the woman was getting emotional also.
‘I can relate to those feelings.’ Silvie sniffed. ‘That is why I keep the room exactly how it is. The maid is not even allowed in here. To clean it would be to disturb the last traces of my daughter.’
Keeley swallowed, wondering if she should reach out to her. They did have so much in common when it came to loss. Keeley put a hand on Silvie’s shoulder and gently squeezed. ‘Thank you for showing me Ferne’s room.’
Silvie sniffed again, recomposing herself. ‘You think we are finished?’
‘Well, I… didn’t want to pry.’
‘Nonsense,’ Silvie said quickly. ‘Come, help me up onto the bed.’
Keeley smiled as the woman headed towards the extremely high mattress and attempted to get on. Giggling, Silvie beached a little on the edge and Keeley had to hurry to her side and aid her in getting on top of it.