Keeley put her hand to one of the drapes she was hanging above the archway that led from reception to restaurant. She had thought about Ethan while she was drawing every brief outline plan for the communal areas of the hotel. He was in every idea and thought as she tried to carry on with what he himself had started. The hotels were going to become a home from home, just like the new slogan suggested. But right now she was working on them being a home from home with the added enhancement of Christmas. She was thinking not along the lines of Santa’s grotto, but more that cosy log cabin vibe she had got the night Ethan had showed his changes to her, with a touch of comfort displayed in heavy, luscious fabrics and rustic detailing.
She sighed, working out a crease in the drape. She had tried to call Ethan. She had sent him a dozen messages. But, so far, he had yet to reply to any of them. It was as absolutely infuriating as it was upsetting. It seemed Ethan had simply decided to walk away with only the barest of facts and that hurt the most. All she had ever wanted was a chance to explain and it seemed he couldn’t yet give that to her.
Keeley’s phone began to ring and she stepped back from the curtains to remove it from the pocket of her jeans. It was her mum.
‘Mum, hi.’
‘Where are you, Keeley?’ Lizzie asked, her voice on that very edge of frantic usually reserved for moments before curtain up on the latest book club meeting.
‘I’m—’
Lizzie didn’t give her the chance to reply. ‘I will tell you where you’re not, shall I?’ she thundered on. ‘You’re not at the train station.’
Keeley closed her eyes and squeezed them up tight, the colour draining from her face. ‘You’re at St Pancras?’
‘I’m at St Pancras,’ Lizzie replied. ‘And your father insisted on driving instead of getting on public transport so he is still looking for somewhere to park. And it’s snowing.’
‘It’s snowing?’ Keeley clarified. ‘In London?’
‘Keeley!’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘That is not the most important part of what I’m trying to say to you. Where are you?!’
Keeley took a deep breath. She had only mooted to her mum in their last conversation that she and Rach might be back in London today. But since then she and Rach had talked at length. There was no rush to get back to London. Rach was managing her VIP client online and Keeley knew that they were both somehow wanting to stay a little longer to see what might transpire here before Christmas Day. Rach was taking things slower than she had ever taken things before with Antoine but Keeley knew her friend was hoping there might be a chance to spend the night together before she got on the Eurostar back home and was forced to think about a distance between them.
‘I’m still in Paris,’ Keeley told Lizzie.
‘As if I hadn’t guessed!’
‘I didn’t say I was actually coming back today, it was a thought, that’s all.’
‘You said you would let me know if you weren’t coming back today. And you didn’t.’ Lizzie gasped. ‘Tell me, honestly, is Silvie keeping you against your will?’ she asked. ‘And if she’s there, blink twice if it’s yes.’
‘This… isn’t FaceTime,’ Keeley answered. ‘How will you know if I’m blinking?’
‘A code word then,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘Say “formaldehyde” if you’re in trouble.’
‘Are you still working at Mr Peterson’s?’ Keeley asked, mouth falling open.
‘Roland and I have made tremendous headway with Mr Peterson. I’m confident we might get a sale of his place before Christmas.’ Lizzie sniffed. ‘There was one single lady who came round and said she actually liked the robins he’d stuffed for the church that he’d left on the dining room table.’
Keeley closed her eyes. That man was never going to change. But her mum actually sounded like she was enjoying the work. ‘How is your squirrel injury?’
‘Better. I don’t need another vaccine for a year unless things take a turn.’
‘That’s good.’
‘So, when are you coming home?’ Lizzie asked. ‘If it’s not today.’
Keeley paused, listening in to the sound of London traffic and trying to imagine the city with snow. Suddenly her parents and everything she knew seemed so far away. Was staying longer really the right thing to do?
‘Keeley?’ Lizzie asked.
The sound of Rach’s laughter rang out from behind her and she turned her head to see her friend kiss Antoine’s cheek before he got back into professional mode and started to serve some new guests.
‘I’ll… let you know,’ Keeley finally told her. ‘I’ll let you know for definite when we are back on the Eurostar and on our way. I promise.’
‘And everything is OK?’ Lizzie asked. ‘With Silvie.’
‘Yes,’ Keeley reassured. ‘Everything is fine, Mum. Please don’t worry.’
Lizzie tutted. ‘Asking me not to worry is like asking your father to take down Joan’s infuriating decorations! Did you know I actually had bits of 1970s gossamer fairy wings in my sherry trifle last night! Luckily I spotted it before Juliet Honeydale dipped a spoon in. Those bloody awful outdated things!’
Keeley smiled. It sounded like things were exactly as they should be in England. ‘Mum, I have to go now. I’ll call you again soon. Bye.’
Sixty-Five
L’Hotel Perfect Paris, Opera District, Paris
‘Good afternoon. Merry Christmas.’
Ethan was speaking and responding to guests and staff in the hotel, but it was as if his functions were being controlled by someone else. It was robotic. It was going through the motions. It was getting by. And that was what he had been doing for the past five days already. A replication of how he had been after Ferne’s death.
He pushed the door to the boardroom and stepped inside. Today’s mission, before he fled back into the anonymity of the city, was to ensure Noel was completely across the festive party bookings. Office workers, groups from construction, schoolteachers, they were all excited for the end of their working year and wanting to celebrate in style with dinner and dancing late into the night. It was a good money-maker as long as everything ran smoothly.
He entered, eyes to the floor, fingers clamped around a coffee he hadn’t yet touched. ‘Noel, can we make this quick so I can get back to other things?’
‘Hello, Ethan,’ Silvie’s voice greeted.
He looked up then, the coffee cup falling out of his grasp. Around the boardroom table was Noel, Louis, Jeanne, Silvie and Bo-Bo was even sitting on his own chair looking like he might be about to start a presentation. ‘What… is this?’ Ethan gasped, hurriedly plucking the cup from the wood floor.
‘This is a family meeting,’ Silvie told him coolly. ‘Please, sit down.’
‘Family,’ Ethan said shaking his head.
‘Yes, Ethan,’ Silvie said. ‘Family. We are all here because we want the very same thing here. The best for our family. The Durand Family. And the best for Perfect Paris.’
Ethan’s eyes went to Jeanne. How was she here? How was she sitting next to Silvie like she might be about to have lunch with a much-loved grandmother? Had he been so completely blinkered these past few days that he had missed significant developments. He was suddenly flooded with a worry that he hadn’t left any food for Jeanne last night…