Lilou doesn’t know it, but her words have zapped that part of me that needed rebooting. I’ve got a Christmas book to finish and I’m going to make it my best one yet, because that’s what Lilou and everyone who has supported me deserves. My fingers itch to write, and there’s not one thought of bludgeoning. Well, not much. When we get back to the hotel I go to my manuscript and jump straight in.
Hilary was certain no other city was as pretty as Paris at Christmastime. The four hundred chestnut trees along the Place de la Concorde were strung with glittering fairy lights, as if showing the way to the magnificent Arc de Triomphe. Even with the sparkling display of joie de vivre around her, she felt that something was missing from her life. Love, actually…
And it was time to act on her feelings.
The words pour out of me like a dam that’s burst its banks. Time is forgotten as I type like my life depends on it and, for the first time since my divorce, I enjoy writing about love. Complicated, messy, beautiful love. Soon the characters become three dimensional and real to me, as if I’m writing about peoplewhose every secret I know, and I can sense just what they need, even if they can’t. But… that doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to them. Not yet anyway, because one thing I know for sure is that love might be a long journey, but it’s always worth it when the timing is right…
35
14 DECEMBER
I’m up early ready to furnish and decorate Library Anaïs.JP has installed a beautiful walnut bar shelf as an early Christmas present for us, which is so touching I promptly burst into messy tears, which Manon gives me the side eye for.
‘Will you stop with all the crying? What’s gotten into you?’ she admonishes.
‘These are happy tears. Look at the hotel! We achieved the dream, in such a short amount of time. Sure, it’s not perfect, but we worked with the budget we had, and it’ll do for now. It’s a million times better than it was. And better yet, it feels warm and welcoming. Like it’s always looked just this way.’
‘It really does have a good feel. I’ve had so many enquiries after we posted those updated photographs on the website and across social media yesterday. Once we get the library done, I’ll take some snaps and post those too.’
‘No bookings yet though? Isn’t that a concern if we plan to open by December eighteenth? I’d hoped by now we’d have at least one or two confirmations.’
‘Not yet. But we will. Don’t worry. I’ve been fielding calls and replying to lots of emails.’
‘OK. Let’s finish Library Anaïs.’ I give the newly painted shelves a dust while Manon carts boxes of books in and deposits them by my feet.
I shelve the books in alphabetical order while Manon makes a start on the Books of the Month table.
We’ve chosen to highlight the jazz era and all those Lost Generation authors who made Paris their home. Seems fitting when we have a selection of those novels in a few languages.
We’ve got a string of tinsel hung along the stand that features our ‘Blind date with a book’. Novels that we’ve wrapped in butchers’ paper, with a few clues about each novel and what genre they are. In the corner close to the fire is our Annotation Station. We’ve supplied pens and annotating paper sets that guests can use to make notes as they read.
‘Coming through,’ JP grunts as he carries in a ruby-red velvet chaise longue.
‘Ooh, the furniture from Palais has arrived!’ Manon and I go the lobby and I help carry in bergère chairs and the occasional tables while JP rolls in the globe that’s conveniently on wheels.
He places it in the middle of the room. ‘That’s the biggest globe I’ve ever seen.’
‘Wait,’ Manon says, and she dusts her hands on her black jeans. ‘Voilà!’ She opens it to reveal the bar. ‘Anais is no fun and said I can’t have it for my suite.’
‘Shall we toast this room?’ I say, feeling a well of emotion sweep through me that we’re almost at the finish line. While the library is still a mess of disorderly piles of unstacked books, it already has a warm comforting feel to it with the plush ruby-red chaise longues and gold accented marble-top tables. Also the chandelier, which we polished to a shine after replacing a few crystals that were the wrong size. But isn’t that beauty in itself – loving and carefully mending the damaged thing; hearts, chandeliers – so they can thrive in the next reincarnationproudly wearing those marks of character? In the corner, lights on our Christmas tree flash and sparkle, drawing the eye of pedestrians, who peek in the window.
When all the books are shelved and the fire is crackling in the hearth, it’s going to be an oasis for bibliophiles. There are baskets of throw rugs, and library-card stamped cushions. I can’t wait to add more to it as we go and as funds allow so our guests never forget their stay in L’Hôtel Bibliothèque Secrèt.
Manon comes back with a bottle of champagne and pops the cork. ‘To new chapters!’ I say as we clink our glasses.
A few hours later, the room is complete. Books line the shelves patiently awaiting to be read. On the mantle are black and white pictures of Anaïs Nin from over the course of her life. There’s a stack of her books on a coffee table and a range of memoirs written about the woman, who was once called a provocateur. We hang Christmas stockings under the framed photos, and decorate the rest of the room, including moving the Nutcrackers to the doorway, as if they’re standing guard over the many novels on display. For now, the room is finished, but we could always use more books…
That evening, I dress warmly for the wintry weather. Mid-December brings heavier rain and high winds. Still, that’s whatvin chaudis for – to warm up those cold bones.
I find Manon in Library Anaïs, writing up notecards. ‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘Index cards. I just bought the most beautiful old library cabinet catalogue. We can squeeze it to the right of the fireplace. Let me show you a picture.’ She brings it up on her phone. It’s gorgeous, like the catalogue drawers in Bibliothèque Mazarine,only smaller. The wood is marred with thick gouges, and a couple of the drawers are bowed and twisted.
‘Wow, where on earth did you find it?’
‘Geneviève from Palais found it at another flea market and called me and asked if we wanted it.’
‘Of course, it’s gorgeous.’
