A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,44
now, distracted from the view. Keeley waved a hand at her friend, then pressed at the volume keys on her phone.
‘Are you turning the volume down?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe Rach should hear me. I’ll call her. Rach! Rach!’
‘Erica! Stop it!’ Keeley begged. ‘Please!’ She really didn’t want to have to mute her completely. And apparently her brain was still telling her she didn’t want Rach to know about her street-meet…
‘I’ll stop if you promise to start,’ Erica demanded. There was heaps of determination in her friend’s eyes now, despite her frailty.
‘Start what?’ Keeley asked.
‘Start living,’ Erica ordered. ‘Someone gave you a second chance, remember? You need to take it.’
Keeley swallowed. She really should start embracing the world a little harder.
‘Go after this guy! Chase him! Hunt him down! Nail his arse to the floor and—’
Keeley did mute Erica then and waved a goodbye to the screen as Rach stepped across the roof towards her.
‘Everything OK?’ Rach asked. ‘That wasn’t Roland, was it? I had a missed called from him this morning and I ignored it.’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Keeley insisted, linking her arm through her friend’s.
‘Good. So, I was thinking we’d get Mr Dates and Times over there to show us the best place to find hot chocolate and then hit the shops.’
‘That sounds good,’ Keeley agreed. ‘Watch out, Morgan and Gucci.’
‘Well then, I’ll let you break it to the guiding guru again that the next stop is definitely going to be fashion and not… ancient and Agincourt.’
Nineteen
Canal Saint-Martin, Paris
At this moment, Ethan felt a little like he had right after he had lost Ferne. It was as if he was caught in a riptide, struggling to surface, the water dragging him down deeper and further away from solid ground. He could hear her, talking to him, telling him over the phone all about the things she had seen in London, filling his mind with the sights and sounds of the English capital preparing for December. Ferne had wanted to branch out from Paris. But not into other cities in France, no, Ferne had never wanted to do things in half measures, she always wanted to go big. Her idea, the first seed of a new arm to their small empire, was ‘Luxe London’. A boutique, high-spec, contemporary hotel in the centre of the city. He remembered her words, the energy in her eyes, the thrill of a new challenge rippling through her, the way she tossed her blonde hair around when she got too excited. Why stop at Paris, Ethan? Why not London too? Why not the world?
Ethan still didn’t know hotels. But he had known Ferne. So he had done what he had always done. He had supported the dream and promised not to breathe a word about the purpose of the trip to Silvie. Silvie didn’t even know now and Ethan wanted to keep it that way. What good would it do to tell her that her daughter had been thinking about leaving France?
Blinking over his half-filled glass of Calvados, the only voice he could hear was Louis’s, repeating what it had said earlier. We’re going to be selling the brand, Ethan. By the beginning of next year, I want all the hotels gone.
He shuddered. It wasn’t from the wind as more patrons swept inside the café-cum-tabac he was sitting in, turning once more to alcohol as a coping mechanism, it was from that feeling people described as someone walking over their grave. Except it wasn’t his grave he felt Louis was stomping on, it was Ferne’s. How could Silvie be letting this happen?
Ethan slugged back a mouthful of drink and glanced around the high-ceilinged low-lit establishment where groups of people were happily drinking and dining, some wearing festive jumpers, others unwrapping gifts. It was December. It was the Christmas season. But in Ethan’s mind there was nothing to celebrate. How could Silvie and Louis try and make a decision about Perfect Paris now? Now when it was only a little over a year since Ferne had died. Now when they had also decided to engage with the person living because of his best friend. Instead of his best friend.
Although, it was also true, when Ethan had been caught not knowing the direction the chain should go in, when Noel had been talking ‘confetti canons’ and ‘giant baubles as big as the moon’, getting out of the business had crossed his mind. So why now was he thinking the