A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,103

his best friend’s kidney was a girl. He thought about Jeanne, just for a few seconds, and then he put his phone back in his pocket. There was no way he was going to go.

Forty-Six

The Durand House, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Paris

‘This looks like something from a film set,’ Rach remarked later that evening as the car that Silvie had sent for them pulled up outside a substantial property with a large paved driveway. ‘It’s almost as big as the town hall and the chateau we went past.’

There were four columns lined up along the front almost like sentries waiting to confirm their invitation to the house. It was a little imposing in its grandeur and Keeley wasn’t sure what was going to come from the inside. The very large Christmas tree was slightly more welcoming in its appearance. It was as broad as it was tall, and it was covered in perfectly organised lights, baubles and tinsel. Keeley opened the door before the driver could get there to do it for her and she almost expected a choir to appear to regale them with carols. Boots crunching down onto another layer of snow she took a deep breath, stilling herself and acknowledging the surroundings. Snow was wispy in the air now, nothing to cause a concern of getting stranded later, but, with the plummeting temperatures, it meant the ground was still crisp and white.

‘Keeley! Rach! Come in! Come in!’

Expecting a servant, Keeley was surprised to see Silvie standing at the entrance, beckoning them towards the house, wearing no coat. Keeley stepped up her pace, wanting the woman to get back inside and out of the wind.

‘Are you glad we bought the expensive red wine now?’ Rach whispered in Keeley’s ear as they both made steps towards the house.

‘I wish we had bought the larger round of brie and those vintage plates with the birds on them,’ Keeley said with a gulp. Was this really the house her kidney donor had grown up in?

‘Don’t mention birds,’ Rach begged. ‘It always gives me a nasty Mr Peterson flashback when one time he was mounting a crow.’

Keeley smiled as they reached Silvie’s front door and she offered out the wine and cheese. ‘Hello, I know you said not to bring anything but… we did.’

‘Oh,’ Silvie said. ‘There was no need… but thank you so much.’ She took the gifts and looked appreciatively at them both. ‘I do love a good vin rouge.’

Rach was already nudging Keeley that her choice was spot on and Keeley gave her an elbow back.

‘Come in, please, it is so cold tonight even the Christmas tree wants to come inside.’ Silvie smiled and led the way into the home.

There was another tree over the threshold, this one slightly smaller, but just as tastefully decorated, if your taste was regimented and covered in gold. It was a world away from anything Keeley had looked at with Ethan that afternoon. As a maid took Keeley’s coat, then offered the same service to Rach, Keeley thought about her time at the marché with Ethan. They had rummaged! At one point, they had each been holding one of Jeanne’s legs while she climbed into a mammoth Arabian-style basket to retrieve a wooden trug that had caught Ethan’s eye. And they had laughed so much. Sleeves rolled up, hands on items while they closed their eyes and tried to feel an aura the certain object might be offering up. Although Keeley had talked about the memories décor could evoke, she had never actually held something to see if it projected a certain vibe. But, in some cases this afternoon it had. And Ethan said he could feel it too. Sometimes there had been a warmth, sometimes not, but being mindful while you were cradling a coat hook or a collection of hand-painted wooden nutcrackers definitely helped the purchasing process. And Ethan had purchased a great deal that was, this evening, being collected.

‘You have a lovely home,’ Rach remarked, eyes on stalks at the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the stair banisters through which wound gold and red ribbons with fir cones and bells dangling from them.

‘Thank you,’ Silvie answered. Keeley thought their host sounded suddenly a little subdued. Perhaps it was the word ‘home’. She knew herself that home didn’t really feel quite the same without Bea there. She suspected Silvie felt exactly the same without Ferne.

‘Good evening.’

It was Louis, appearing in the entrance hall. He was wearing smart trousers, a white shirt with a