‘Honestly,’ Silvie exclaimed, straightening her form. ‘I never could understand why Ferne wanted a bed so high.’ She smiled. ‘Come up here with me.’ Silvie patted the space next to her.
‘Are you sure?’ Keeley asked.
‘But of course!’ Silvie patted the bed again. ‘Come!’
With quite substantial effort and a little help with balance from Silvie, Keeley managed to finally get on top of the bed. She stuck her legs out in mid-air and wiggled her feet. ‘Maybe that’s why the bed is high,’ Keeley mused. ‘It feels a little bit like you’re flying up here.’
‘Ferne never stayed still,’ Silvie mused. ‘Staying still for a moment bored her.’ She sighed. ‘My daughter was always about the “doing”. I do not remember the times when she stood still. Perhaps only in the shower.’
Keeley took a deep breath. There was something, one question, she had been wanting to ask Silvie from the moment they had met. ‘Silvie, do you think, if Ferne had been given the choice, she would have donated her kidney to someone like me?’
‘Someone like you?’ Silvie asked, her brow furrowed.
‘Someone ordinary,’ Keeley answered. She felt immediately scrutinised and realised she should probably elaborate a bit more. ‘Being here in Ferne’s space, I can start to see what a full life she led and I don’t know if I can… do her justice.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ Silvie said so gently. ‘Ferne and I discussed donation when our country changed its law. Neither of us could see any reason why we would opt out of giving someone the gift of life if ours was not going to go on.’
Keeley nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘And as for being ordinary… bof! You, Keeley, are exactly the kind of person Ferne would want to carry on living for her. From what I know, and I do wish to know a lot more before it is time for you to leave, you are warm… and kind… and generous with your time for others. You have a soft heart and a keen mind. I think you and Ferne would have been great friends.’ Silvie put her hand over Keeley’s. ‘I think you could be great friends with Louis too.’ She looked a little forlorn again. ‘I do worry about him. Alone in America, working all the time. I worry that perhaps he made choices he thought his father would have wanted him to make.’
‘I really am sorry about the ballet. I…’
‘It is no matter,’ Silvie said, shifting her weight across the mattress a little. ‘But I do hope there will be a little time for you to get to know Louis better while you are here in Paris.’
Suddenly a loud clanging filled the entire room and Keeley clutched at her chest.
Silvie fell about laughing. ‘The way we announce the next course here in the House of Durand is surprising, yes?’ She shifted forward a little, teetering on the edge of the mattress again. ‘That is a reminder of my Pierre. He always liked the ceremony.’ With a bit of a bounce, Silvie sprung down off the bed and Keeley panicked as the woman listed a little to the left, heading towards a collision with the nightstand.
‘Oh!’ Silvie cried out.
Keeley managed to take hold of the woman’s arm and steady her landing a little while trying to manoeuvre herself off the giant mattress. A few things fell from the bedside cabinet then – a photo frame, a couple of books, thankfully not the lamp…
‘Are you alright?’ Keeley asked, her feet finally finding the carpet as Silvie straightened up.
‘Yes, yes,’ Silvie said quickly, her voice light. In fact, she sounded very much like she was laughing. ‘How did my daughter get in and out of this bed every day?’
Keeley smiled. ‘I don’t know… but it was probably a lot of fun.’
‘I have made a mess,’ Silvie said, bending a little stiffly to gather the items that were on the floor.
‘Let me help,’ Keeley said, picking up the photo frame. Inside was a picture of Ferne, her blonde hair poker-straight, her face made up like she might be about to attend a party. ‘This is a lovely photo.’ Keeley put it back on the nightstand.
‘That was taken at a Christmas party. Our party nights at the hotels at Christmas time are very popular.’ Silvie sighed, looking at Ferne’s image. ‘Ferne loved those parties. She was in her element, working the room, making sure everyone was having the best of times.’
The gong sounded again, this time somehow, even louder and they both laughed together.
‘I think they are getting restless and want our presence,’ Silvie said. ‘I believe the dessert is something with chocolate tonight.’
Another food sin that Keeley should probably not be so fond of. She gathered up the last books from the floor and went to put them on the bedside table. But, as she did so, something fluttered out from between one of the pages and sank to the carpet. While Silvie headed for the door out, Keeley picked up the piece of paper and couldn’t help but look at it. It was a photograph. A Polaroid. A little faded, obviously well-worn through time and touch. But the image looking back at Keeley stole her breath. Those grey eyes. No, it couldn’t be. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous now, seeing him everywhere.
‘Keeley,’ Silvie called from the threshold to the room.
She swallowed, feeling somehow guilty. And then she put the photograph back between the pages of the notebook. ‘Coming.’
Forty-Eight
L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Opera District, Paris
‘This is one of your other little hotels, is it?’ Jeanne asked, swinging her legs so they continually knocked against the leg of the dining table they were seated at. Ethan had managed to get Bo-Bo – with Jeanne’s disgruntled approval – to accept being stationed in the garage while they dined in the hotel’s restaurant. Silvie had sent him a second text reiterating her invitation to dinner earlier. She had sounded like she might really want him to come, like it really might not have been another kind of business ambush. Except that person would be there. The girl. What was he going to say to her? How could he even look at her knowing that she was there because Ferne was not? He considered ignoring the second text just like he had ignored the first but, in the end, he had sent a polite decline with no emotion attached to it. If he gave no energy to it, it would go away. She would go away. He was busy. He was focused. He didn’t have time for his thoughts to stray beyond improving the hotels. He already had a child and a dog he hadn’t planned for…
‘Why do I sense that you do not like it?’ Ethan asked her.
‘It looks like a courtroom,’ Jeanne said with a sniff. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘A courtroom with too much blue and silver glitter. It looks like a troupe of can-can dancers high-kicked through here on their way to jail.’
A courtroom. Ethan studied the dark wood he had always thought looked regal and majestic. Perhaps Jeanne was on to something. Except the changes he had in mind for the hotels didn’t incorporate a full re-fit – that might go some way to bankrupting them. He would have to do the best he could to soften hard edges and introduce warmth in other ways. He would begin with some of the items he had purchased from Les Puces.
‘If you were not my boss I would hate you,’ Noel greeted, his hands holding a tray.