A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,148
it. ‘It is phenomenal.’
That one word warmed Keeley all the way up and she took a step nearer to him. It was all billowing canvas above them, decorated with a map of the sky, tiny lights highlighting the constellations. There was a sofa to lounge on draped with thick fleecy throws, plaid blankets and furry cushions. From a small speaker, delicate music was gently rising into the air and there were trugs filled with wood around a roaring stove, Christmas stockings hung from the knobs of a sideboard sat next to a medium-sized Christmas tree. Perhaps, she wondered, if they started to talk about the décor, they could find their way back to a beginning.
‘It’s an idea I had when I was looking at fabric for the inside of the hotel. And then I did a little bit of research. Did you know that although most people say they wouldn’t want to go camping, actually the being under canvas part, the simplicity and the rustic elements of it are not what they find unappealing?’ Keeley said.
Ethan nodded. ‘It is the cold and the rain and the holes in the canvas… or the hours that it takes to put up a tent in the cold and the rain with the holes in the canvas.’
‘It sounds like you are speaking from experience,’ Keeley ventured.
‘The cold and the rain part comes from my few years living on the streets,’ he admitted.
A pregnant pause followed until Keeley’s self-preservation kicked in and she took another few steps towards him. ‘There is insulation in the floor and… the wood burner. Anyone dining here has a choice whether to have someone tend the fire for them or to do it themselves. A home from home but with added touches if required.’
‘It is amazing,’ Ethan breathed. ‘Truly amazing.’
Keeley was closer to him now and it reminded her of everything that had passed between them. The pure, wonderful times and the moment it had all gone wrong. Was there any way to move forward?
‘I…’
‘Do you…’
Keeley’s cheeks flamed as they both started talking at exactly the same time. She closed her lips.
‘Keeley, I need to say something to you,’ Ethan began. ‘Actually, I need to say a great many things to you.’
Keeley shook her head. ‘Can I say something first?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
She had always hoped she would see Ethan again. As soon as she had talked about staying in Paris longer than she and Rach had originally planned on, she knew it was because she wanted this chance to speak to him. But now, when he was stood right here, so close that even her defective smell receptors were definitely detecting a hint of musky pine, the words were threatening to come out in a different order than she wanted.
‘I was going to tell you,’ Keeley said. ‘I would have told you. About… what happened to me. And about… Ferne. But I didn’t know… until I knew for sure and…’ She really was having trouble and her feelings were threatening to get the better of her.
‘It is OK,’ Ethan breathed.
‘Is it?’ she asked. She knew her expression was hopeful, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to feel hope. She wanted to believe that two people who had become so connected could find a way through anything.
The canvas of the yurt was parted and Keeley took a step back from him, conscious that they were being interrupted.
‘Monsieur, Madame.’ It was a waiter wheeling in a trolley bearing rustic wooden domes.
‘Shall we?’ Ethan asked, indicating the beautifully set table in the middle of the room.
Keeley nodded. ‘Yes.’
Sixty-Seven
The food was exquisite, but not in a scientific, planned feast for all senses kind of way. It was much more in a very humble, flavoursome, simply evocative kind of way. The starter had been wedges of fresh white bread accompanied by individual pots of a rich duck terrine. It was hearty, ideal winter food and a bottle of red wine had complemented it perfectly. Next was succulent chicken in a sauce that Ethan could taste each and every individual flavour of – onion, mushroom, garlic, a touch of bay leaf, the flavoursome stock holding it all together. It took him right back to one of the first meals he had shared with the Durand family.
‘Silvie made this dish for us once, but with rabbit,’ Ethan told Keeley as he paused in his eating. ‘Silvie is a terrible cook by the way and she will be the first to admit it.’