A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,26

here, so close, it was a little overwhelming.

‘Wonder when we’re going to see an onion seller with a thin curly moustache in a blue and white T-shirt, riding a bike?’ Rach asked, nudging Keeley’s ribs.

Keeley smiled. She had Rach for all the clichés. But Keeley was determined to look deeper, not second guess – experience everything, all in – exactly like she had promised Erica.

‘Madames,’ the driver said, indicating their trolley cases on the pavement.

‘Do we have to tip him?’ Rach asked quite loudly.

The driver smiled and touched the peak of his cap. ‘Please, this is not necessary. Madame Durand has taken care of everything.’

Rach looked at Keeley and raised her eyes. ‘It’s like being a royal… you know… the ones who are still active… and not Prince Andrew.’

‘Thank you so much, Sebastian,’ Keeley replied to the tall, slim twenty-something who wasn’t exactly uneasy on the eye. He had greeted them at the Gare du Nord, no cheap cardboard sign with her name written with a Sharpie, but an iPad, the words ‘Keeley Andrews’ in large font, blinking on and off. And she had managed to introduce herself without saying something like ‘I only have one kidney so drinking games are like Russian Roulette’. Yes, she had said that once. No one had laughed.

‘You are welcome,’ Sebastian answered. ‘And Madame Durand asked for me to tell you that she invites you to take afternoon tea in the hotel restaurant at 3 p.m. With her compliments, of course.’

Afternoon tea with the mother of her donor. Keeley felt a dart of panic prick her chest. It felt too soon. Yes, the principal reason she had travelled here, the whole point of the trip, was to meet with Silvie Durand, but she hadn’t really thought it would happen this quickly. Keeley had half-hoped she and Rach could settle in, have a night to themselves, a chance to get grounded and comfortable with this winter escape. But, on the other hand, she hadn’t paid for the train tickets. And she wasn’t paying for the hotel so…

‘Afternoon tea! I love a scone or six,’ Rach admitted. ‘How about you, Sebastian? Or are you more of a cream horn kind of a guy?’

Keeley pulled Rach away from the black town car, catching the handle of her trolley case too. ‘Let’s go and unpack.’

‘I’m thinking of you here, Keels,’ Rach whispered. ‘He’s quite cute.’

‘And he’s not deaf,’ Keeley replied, desperate to get Rach away. ‘And he can speak perfect English.’

‘What?’

‘He can hear you! Come on!’ Keeley sent a soft smile back to the driver before hauling Rach and her case forward towards a revolving front door.

Paris Parfait the sign read. It looked a little like the branding for Hotel Chocolat. Succinct, without too much detail. Keeley didn’t know what to expect from the inside. Was this a large hotel or something more boutique? It was hard to tell from the exterior that spoke of days gone by with its ornate pillars and worn stonework. Rach was first in the revolving door, immediately going too fast and halting the motion. Keeley stepped into the pod behind.

‘Don’t touch it,’ Keeley said through the glass, trying to keep her case from knocking into the moving door too. ‘It just slows it down.’

‘What?’ Rach asked, turning her head slightly, but still pushing.

‘The door,’ Keeley continued. ‘It moves at its own pace. You can’t make it move faster.’ Surely Rach had been in a revolving door before? Keeley jolted a little as Rach’s eagerness stopped the glass panels yet again and they were stationary once more. There had been a revolving door at the hospital back in 2019. After being inside for eight weeks, coming through that and out into the chill of a London winter had been the best breath of fresh air Keeley had ever had fill her lungs.

‘Ow! Ow! Keels! Keeley! My hair is stuck! My hair!’

Keeley came out of her reverie pretty quickly at that shout. Rach was pushing at the glass again, but this time Keeley could see that her friend’s hair was caught somehow in between the glass and the rubber seal. Was there an emergency button? Not that was immediately obvious and this was a door not a lift. It should have been a case of walking into reception with ease, not high drama.

‘Keeley! It’s pulling my hair out and my head is getting closer to the glass! Keeley!’

Rach was really, fully panicking now and Keeley didn’t know what to do. If she pushed one