A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,56

all.

‘So… how did it feel meeting Silvie?’ Rach asked, checking her reflection in the glass and preening her hair a little.

‘It was actually better than I thought it would be,’ Keeley admitted. ‘She was nice and… she made things easy and calm, didn’t she?’

‘But you don’t think it can be like that tonight with her son?’

‘I don’t think I can do it all again this soon. I think that’s the issue,’ Keeley said, pangs of worry gathering in her stomach again. Silvie had suggested they meet up again in a few days’ time and a few days’ time was well-needed breathing space. ‘I think I’d much rather… go for a walk.’

Looking back to outside, she felt Paris was calling. A quiet stroll along the Seine watching the illuminated boats drift by was what Keeley wanted. But perhaps it shouldn’t be about what she wanted. Being here was all about meeting Silvie. And Silvie wanted her to meet her son.

‘I could go,’ Rach said, breaking the silence. ‘You know… without you.’

‘What?’

‘Well, if you really feel you can’t go, I could take one for the team.’ Rach sniffed. ‘If they don’t have a dress length policy. And I know nothing about ballet. Except that all the dancers are a lot more graceful than me and all the men wear tight tights… OK… actually, thinking about it, maybe it’s right up my street.’

‘You’d do that?’ Keeley said, already feeling a wave of relief flow over her. ‘Go in my place?’

Rach shrugged. ‘I’ve come here for you, Keels. This trip is meant to make you feel better and… empowered about getting your second chance, right?’

‘Right,’ Keeley replied. She felt the total opposite of empowered at the moment if she was honest.

‘So, you can either tell Silvie you’ve changed your mind and we can both head out for a walk and dinner at a nice brasserie…’

‘I’d like that,’ Keeley said. ‘But… I’d feel bad about letting anyone down at late notice.’

‘OK then, that’s decided.’ Rach said with a nod. ‘I’ll go to the ballet and meet Son of Silvie.’

‘God, I feel so much better,’ Keeley said, breathing out what felt like a whole tumult of anxiety.

‘Good,’ Rach said, nodding as she looked back to her reflection in the window of the balcony doors. ‘That’s settled then. Just promise to keep your mobile on – and not on silent – and let’s hope Son of Silvie is at least a little bit hot… and not too young for me.’

Twenty-Five

Dodo Manege, Jardin Des Plantes, Paris

Ethan was blaming tonight on the street girl. After he had emailed his lawyer asking for advice on Louis Durand’s plan to try and sell the hotel chain, he had gone out for coffee and ended up standing outside the orphanage he had grown up in. From the exterior it looked like an almost quaint Parisian townhouse – impressive steps to the front door, Juliette balconies – but behind the not-at-first-noticeable bars on the windows, it had been the kind of dwelling depicted in television crime dramas. Ethan had stood there, almost trying to look through the bricks of the building and vividly remembering the deep, rich, coldness he’d endured each and every day. A bone-chilling icy temperature no high tog duvet could ever fix and the kind of wicked, cruelty that carers who should never have been carers had doled out. Was it still going on behind that charade of a façade? Was this the kind of place the street girl came from?

Ethan shook his head now and took a sip from his take-out cup of coffee. He was thinking too much about the girl. Maybe she wasn’t an orphan or even in foster care. Perhaps she was just a thief and his feeling of false kinship was because of what was happening with the hotels right now. He should have guessed this was coming. Without Ferne here, the Durands were always going to revert to type. Rich people liked rich people. They didn’t like strays like him. Guttersnipes shouldn’t exist in their world. They turned a blind eye and willed extinction.

Endangered species. Ethan watched the menagerie of animals in front of him slowly rotating to music. Drawn to a carousel! Drinking coffee and refreshing his email inbox! What a life! Ferne would be laughing at him now if she were here. As hard as she had worked, she had played equally as much. She had always, somehow, been able to switch off as quickly as she switched on. And this children’s