A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,126

barking ceasing and a joyful yelping taking its place.

Ethan knew Keeley had wanted to say something else, something about Jeanne’s change in appearance but she had stopped herself. Keeley knew, like him, that any attention brought to the matter would only turn the girl angsty all over again.

‘Of course I am here,’ Jeanne answered, taking hold of Bo-Bo’s collar. ‘I wanted to see what you thought of the new place. I helped to decorate the tree and I helped Noel tell the guests that this area was off limits for tonight.’

‘Oh,’ Keeley said. ‘You stopped your guests coming in here for me? Now I feel incredibly guilty. It’s so lovely, everyone should be able to enjoy it.’

‘And they will,’ Ethan assured her.

‘Monsieur Bouchard!’

It was Noel calling him from the corridor, beckoning like there might be a problem. Ethan felt the tension in his shoulders. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ He turned away. ‘Yes, Noel.’

*

Keeley watched Ethan leave, walking swiftly out of the room towards someone who looked a little familiar. Noel. Could it be? Their tour guide? The person Silvie had organised to show them around the sights of Paris. She swallowed. Noel worked here. At Ethan’s hotel… Warning signposts were starting to pop up like unwanted pimples before a party. It had to be coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t that Noel. She had only caught a glimpse of this man. It could have been someone who looked a little like him. OK, a lot like him… Keeley glanced down the corridor again to where the two men were conversing. She could only see Noel’s back. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he worked at numerous hotels. That had to be it. He was a tour guide unconnected to any one place. It was natural he would spread his expertise across many establishments. She felt a little better, better enough not to feel cross when Bo-Bo started to lick her leg.

‘I knew you would like it,’ Jeanne said with confidence. ‘I love it. It is like the complete opposite to anywhere I have ever spent time. Apart from my auntie’s house.’ She sniffed. ‘If she even was my real auntie. Who knows?’

Jeanne was touching the decorations on the tree now. Keeley joined her and watched the girl caressing the wings of a rather sparkly angel, albeit with a bit of a tarnished face.

‘I love it too,’ Keeley told her. ‘It’s everything a great hotel should be and more.’

‘Ethan’s going to change the name too, you know,’ Jeanne said. ‘That was his idea. Not mine. And only if his co-owners agree. I cannot see that the animal shelter will disagree. Not now there might be the chance to have an “adopt a dog” area for them here after Christmas. That was my idea. Dogs are so much better than rabbits, do you not think?’

Keeley frowned, not really understanding much of what Jeanne had just spat out very quickly. ‘Change the name?’

‘The name of the hotel chain,’ Jeanne said, eye-rolling quite clearly at Keeley’s inability to keep up with the conversation. ‘It’s going to be hello to “Welcome Paris – your home from home” and goodbye to that awful “Perfect Paris – always excellence”.’ Jeanne blew a raspberry. ‘Aimed at rich people. So pretentious.’

Keeley’s heart felt like someone had just stabbed it with a poker-hot log from the fire in front of her. It was such a stun she held onto her chest in case it decided to burst out and fall into the embers. ‘What… did you say?’

All the while she waited for Jeanne to say something else her mind was coming up with questions. Why? How? Those grey eyes in the photo had belonged to a young Ethan. She was so stupid. She should have owned that knowledge and not tried to push it out of her mind. But she had asked if Ethan had been in love and he had talked about someone called Crevette. Not Ferne. This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t. She took hold of Jeanne’s arms in a bid to make the girl hurry up and answer, as well as to steady her quaking body.

‘Ow!’ Jeanne exclaimed. ‘You’re pinching!’

‘Sorry,’ Keeley said, letting go. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes looked around the room for evidence of the name of the hotel they were standing in. There had been nothing outside. No name on a sign. Zilch. Except the rational side of her mind was telling her quite clearly that the entrance to the garden and the petanque court was