Chapter Twenty-Four
December 2014, London, England
On Christmas Eve, Molly made her way to London with her suitcase. She wished she had Chris by her side, but he was working back in Canterbury. When he”d arrived at her house two days ago, she had been so close to telling him how she felt about him, but she just couldn”t get the words out. Instead, they had fallen asleep on the sofa together - again. She had woken up in the morning, still nestled under his arm, and decided that she didn”t want to wake up any other way. She just had to work up the courage to tell him that.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached London safely and got off the train. She crossed the concourse and into a taxi, lugging her suitcase behind her. Without knowing what her dad had planned, it had been difficult to pack, but she’d brought her best dresses, heels, and warm clothes for walks around the city. Also squashed into her suitcase were two pairs of brand-new brogues for her dad. She hadn’t been able to choose between tan and navy-blue, so she’d bought both.
At the Devon Lane Hotel, she was welcomed by a doorman with a suit, tails, and immaculate white gloves. He showed her through the vast lobby, past the guests drinking expensive cocktails to the reception desk, gilded, and lit with a glittering chandelier.
‘Are you checking in with us today?’ A receptionist, with lipstick the same scarlet red as Molly’s smiled at her.
‘Yes,’ Molly said, quietly, overwhelmed by the grandeur of this hotel. ‘Molly Millot. It’s a suite. I think it will be in the name of Gaspard Millot.’
The receptionist smiled. ‘I’m afraid there is no one here with that name.’
Molly sighed. What was the name he used? She racked her brains but couldn’t remember. ‘Hold on, let me call him.’
His mobile rang and rang, but there was no answer. She felt hot and embarrassed. Just as she was about to give up and order herself one of the expensive cocktails at the bar, a familiar face appeared.
‘Papa, I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t remember the name you use to book the hotels.’
He smiled at her, then turned to the receptionist. ‘This is my daughter, Molly. She will be staying with me. Her sister, Saskia will also check in later.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Blanc,’ the receptionist smiled at him.
‘Mr. Blanc! That’s it. I knew it was a colour,’ Molly said, clapping her palm to her forehead.
The receptionist handed Molly a key card. ‘Welcome to the Devon Lane. I hope you enjoy your stay.’
‘Thank you so much,’ Molly replied.
‘Come on, let me show you the room,’ he said, putting his arm around Molly’s shoulders and taking her bag for her.
Molly’s jaw dropped as he unlocked the door. It was the biggest hotel room she had ever seen. She slipped off her boots and took her case from her dad, tucking it away into the luggage rack in the hall.
Walking across the plush carpet to the cream sofas, she ran her hands over the soft fabric, a world away from her own scruffy furniture. On the glass coffee table between them was a large basket of fruit and two vases of fresh flowers. She walked past the sofas, to the highly polished dining table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, gazing out of the French doors behind the table.
‘What do you think?’ he asked, sitting down next to her.
‘Oh Papa, it’s wonderful,’ Molly said. ‘It’s so fancy.’ She stood up and walked to the French doors. ‘Do we have a balcony?’
‘Oui, bien s?r !’ he replied. ‘Let me show you.’ He walked over to the doors and flung them open dramatically. ‘Voilà !’
Molly stepped out onto the balcony, which was tiled, with a small table and two chairs to one side. She leant on the wrought iron railings as she took in the view of the street below and the designer shops over the road. It was noisy and busy, sirens blaring, taxis and cars all stalled in traffic.
‘This is an incredibly special place,” he said softly. ‘It was the first hotel I took your mother to when I published my first bestseller. We had one of the smaller rooms, but it was wonderful. They could not do enough for us.’
‘Do you miss her?’ she asked.
‘Very much,’ he replied. ‘We could not live together, but we could not be apart. It was an extremely complicated relationship.’ He smiled at Molly. ‘I have many happy memories of her, and I have you and Saskia too. I consider myself incredibly lucky.’
Molly smiled, watching the cars crawling along the street below her. She knew that her parents had always loved each other. He had held her mother”s hand, and told her that he loved her, right before she died, and she had repeated his words back to him before she closed her eyes. At Christmas, Molly found she missed her mum more than the rest of the year combined. She slid her arms around her dad’s waist and gave him a squeeze.
‘I’m lucky, too. I have you and Saskia and you are more than I could ever wish for.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘What is it that you are not telling me?’
Molly let out a long exhale. ‘I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet.’
‘Then I will say nothing else until you are,’ he replied. ‘You know I’m here for you, and when you have processed your thoughts, perhaps I can be of some assistance.’
‘Thank you, Papa,’ she said, feeling relieved.
He hadn’t asked her a thousand questions, as he usually did. The likelihood was that he knew what was going on anyway and was choosing to wait until she was ready to tell him. She followed him back into the room.
He marched through the living area, past the sofas, while she fetched her case from the hallway and joined him.
He turned the handle on one of the two doors facing each other in the hall beyond the living room. ‘Here is your bedroom, you’ll have to share with Saskia, is that alright?’
‘Of course!’ she squealed. ‘We love sharing a room.’
She followed him into the room, watching as he ran his finger over the furniture, as if checking for dust.
He nodded. ‘I’ll go and ask for some tea to be sent up while you unpack. Rooibos, I’m guessing?’
‘Yes please, Papa, that would be wonderful.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m still pinching myself that I’m actually here.’
‘I’m very glad that you are,’ he replied. ‘I’ve booked a table at the French bistro in Covent Garden for dinner tonight. I forget the name, but I know we’ve been there before.’
‘You forgot the name?’ Her eyes widened. ‘You never forget anything.’
‘I have the occasional slip,’ he replied. ‘I am an old man; a few months off seventy, remember.’
‘Your mind is sharper than mine has ever been,’ she replied and unzipped her suitcase. ‘I’ll be right out.’
She hung up her clothes in the wardrobe, before pulling open the door to the ensuite bathroom and gasping as she flicked the lights on, illuminating the marble walls and floors. Every surface was polished to a mirror-like shine. The vanity unit held a basket full of luxury toiletries and thick fluffy towels were slotted into the large, heated towel rail. She applied a slick of Saskia’s blood-red lipstick and ran a brush through her hair, before she joined her dad in the living area.
‘Papa, the bathroom is beautiful. This place is incredible.’ She sat down next to him on the sofa, noticing the silver tray on the coffee table, with bone china cups and saucers. ‘Thank you for the tea. I’m slightly scared to pick one of those cups up. I bet they are extremely expensive.’
He shrugged. ‘Relax and enjoy yourself, Molly. For the next few days, you don’t need to worry about anything. That is my Christmas gift to you.’
***
Chris had wrapped all the presents for his family and was waiting for Scott to get back from work. He’d tried to make the flat more festive with a small tree and some lights strung around the kitchen, then with some Christmas music playing, he’d made burgers for himself and Scott, knowing that they were going out tonight and that having a full stomach would avoid a Christmas Day hangover.
‘Evening, mate! It smells good in here,’ Scott said as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Good,’ Chris said. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’
Scott washed his hands and turned back to Chris. ‘Starving. What can I do?’
Chris nodded to the fridge. ‘Can you grab the beers? We’re good to go.’
Scott was already diving into the fridge.
As they sat at the dining table, Chris raised his beer to Scott. ‘Merry Christmas mate, the fun can start now.’
‘Merry Christmas! And thanks for dinner.’ Scott picked up the burger and took a huge bite, letting out a moan of pleasure. ‘This is so good,’ he mumbled, his mouth full.
‘You’re welcome,’ Chris said. ‘What have you got planned for tonight?’
Scott swallowed his mouthful. ‘There’s a band at the Five Barrels. I doubt they’re as good as Future Proof, but we should go check them out. Jo and her girlfriend might join us for a drink.’ He dipped a fry into the dollop of ketchup on his plate and stuck it into his mouth. ‘Sound good?’
Chris nodded. ‘We should set some ground rules for tonight. We stick to one pub; we leave before midnight and no shots.’
‘Agreed,’ Scott said. ‘We’re definitely not ending up like we did a few years ago. Mum was furious.’
Chris laughed. ‘Do you remember us trying to force down that turkey and roast potatoes?’
‘Dad kept trying to give us another beer, saying that hair of the dog was the best cure.’ Scott shook his head. ‘That was the worst. We are not doing that again.’
‘Glad we’re both on the same page,’ Chris replied. ‘Have you heard from Saskia today?’
‘Yeah, she’s excited about seeing her dad and Molly later on.’ Scott paused. ‘Have you heard from Molly?’
‘She sent me some photos of their hotel suite. Check this out.’ Chris handed his phone to Scott.
‘Wow,’ Scott replied. ‘That is the fanciest hotel room I’ve ever seen. I like their dad. He’s loaded, sure, but he wants to share that with his daughters. He’s kind. And slightly terrifying.’ He smiled at Chris. ‘You’re missing her, aren’t you?’
Chris nodded. ‘Of course. The other night was…perfect.’
‘You have to tell her, Chris.’ Scott said. ‘At some point, she’s going to get another boyfriend, and you’ll have to go through the agony of watching that again, unless you tell her how you feel.’
Taking a gulp of his beer, Chris considered this. ‘If I feel like this about her, then I can’t just be her friend. I can’t keep pretending.’ He sighed. ‘It’s exhausting.’
‘Then stop pretending,’ Scott replied. ‘Pick your moment and take a leap of faith.’ He smiled at Chris. ‘I’ve seen you two together. I feel like she does have feelings for you and she’s trying to hide it, just like you are.’
Chris took a bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully. ‘I’ll tell her,’ he said after he swallowed. ‘The next time I see her, I’ll tell her. What is it the French say? Qui vivra verra.’
‘What does that mean? Scott asked.
‘Roughly translated, who will live, will, see,’ Chris replied. ‘It’s the French version of que sera sera.’
***
Molly and Gaspard walked arm in arm to Covent Garden after they left the restaurant, so that they could see the Christmas decorations. When the freezing wind got too much to bear they walked until the lights of the Devon Lane welcomed them in.
Molly changed into her festive pyjamas and joined her dad in the living room, her bare feet padding across the thick carpet. Gaspard was reclined on one of the sofas, his eyes closed. ‘Are you alright, Papa?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Just closing my eyes. That was an excellent meal, thank you. An incredibly good choice.’ He sighed happily. ‘I’m hopeful there will still be chestnuts and oysters tomorrow.’
She flicked her eyes over the gilt-edged lamps, the embroidered cushions on the sofa and the immaculately polished furniture. ‘I think in this place you could probably have anything you asked for.’ She stretched out next to her dad. ‘Thank you for coming here to be with us, Papa, I appreciate it.’
‘You’ve done your fair share of Christmases in France,’ he replied. ‘With Saskia on the stage, this is the only way we’ll get to spend it together.’
At that moment there was a clattering sound at the door and Saskia flew in, suitcase in tow.
‘I hate these key cards; they never work for me,’ Saskia said, lugging her floral printed bag in and putting it down. ‘Hi, Mole, Hi, Papa.’
Molly flew off the sofa and gave her sister a hug. ‘Come and see this place, you won’t believe it.’
Saskia squeezed Molly back, then let her go, sliding her leopard print coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door and slipped her trainers off, following Molly into the living room. ‘Woah, this is immense.’
‘It is good, isn’t it? Happy Christmas my little one.’ Gaspard put his arms around Saskia.
‘Happy Christmas! It’s so good to see you, Papa,’ Saskia squealed, putting her arms around her dad.
‘Now you are here, Christmas can begin,’ Gaspard said. ‘What do you need? Have you eaten? Would you like some tea?’
‘I’m fine, Papa,’ Saskia said and sat down on the sofa next to Molly. ‘I’m just happy to be here.’
‘Good,’ Gaspard replied. ‘I have all sorts of treats planned tomorrow.’
Molly and Saskia’s eyes lit up. ‘Like what?’ they both said at the same time.
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ Gaspard said, raising one eyebrow. ‘I’m going to spoil you both. You’ve both had a very busy year.’
Molly and Saskia exchanged smiles and Molly squeezed Saskia’s hand tightly. ‘Come and see our room.’ She pulled Saskia to her feet and led her into their bedroom, watching as Saskia’s jaw dropped. ‘Can you believe this place?’
Saskia’s eyes widened as she walked around the room, running her hands over the crisp bedsheets. ‘Do you remember what it was like before Papa’s books took off? That Christmas where we had no heating and no money to pay to fix the damp patch on our ceiling?’
‘I remember,’ Molly said, nodding. ‘We were all huddled around the fire in the living room and Mama and Papa took us for an extra-long walk that day to warm us up.’
‘Did you ever believe we would be spending Christmas here one day?’ Saskia asked.
‘No.’ Molly shook her head. ‘But even then, they still gave everything they had to make us happy. You had a princess dress that year and I had a boxset of books.’
‘I still have the dress,’ Saskia replied.
Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes. ‘I still have the books.’