‘Go ahead,’ he urged her.
Hesitantly, she walked closer to the folly until she could see what it was.
A cake sat at the dancer’s feet, surrounded by candles that flickered in the breeze.
‘Oh …’ Allie pressed her fingers against her lips.
‘There are seventeen candles.’ Sylvain had joined her at the foot of the steps. She blinked up at him in stunned amazement. ‘Happy birthday.’
Allie was struck speechless. In all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten today was her birthday.
But Sylvain remembered.
Tears burned her eyes, blurring the scene.
It had been so long since anyone gave her a birthday cake. It had to be before Christopher ran away. Last year she’d spent her birthday night out with Mark and Harry in London tagging buildings along a train line.
Mark had painted ‘Happy Bloody Birthday, Allie!’ on a wall. And that was that.
‘I …’ Her voice was unsteady, so she stopped talking.
It would have taken Sylvain ages to string all those lights. And the candles. They were the kind they had on the tables in the dining hall – he must have gone back after dinner and sneaked them out.
She turned to him to say something – anything – that could convey how much this meant to her, but there weren’t words for that. Not any that she knew. So she reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers.
His lips were gentle against hers, questioning. Teasing the corners of her mouth until her lips parted and she could taste him.
She stood on her toes, stretching up to twine her wrists behind his neck, deepening the kiss, demanding more.
She’d wanted to do this ever since she saw him standing on the steps of the house that first day in France with the sky in his eyes.
This had to be right, she told herself. There was no way she couldn’t choose Sylvain now. Not after this. It felt right.
Tangling her fingers in the soft curls of his hair, she leaned into him, letting him bear her weight.
Instantly, his arms tightened around her. Supporting her.
For the first time in a long while, Allie thought maybe she was making the right decision.
‘It’s my dream cake. Chocolate with extra chocolate, sprinkled with chocolate.’ Licking icing from her fingers, Allie looked up at Sylvain in the twinkling light. ‘Amazing.’
They sat together at the foot of the dancing statue. His arm was draped lightly around her waist and she was snug in the warmth of his body.
‘I’m sorry I forgot to bring forks. We have to eat like savages.’
His curious phrasing made her giggle.
‘I’m totally cool with being a savage.’ She broke off another chunk of cake. ‘Tell me again how you got the cake on the plane?’
He bent his head to drop a light kiss on her shoulder. ‘Even though we had to leave, Lourdes was determined you should have your birthday cake. So she packed it in a box, which we hid in a suitcase. I had the guards put it in the luggage hold in a place where nothing could damage it.’
Lourdes was the Cassel family cook. The first time she’d met Allie she’d tutted: ‘Tu es trop mince.’ (You are too thin.) From then on she was always slipping Allie food – fresh baguettes spread with soft cheese; flaky croissants slathered in jam; vividly coloured macaroons and langue de chat biscuits dipped in dark chocolate, which were her favourites.
‘Oh, I miss her.’ Allie sighed, wistfully. ‘I miss France.’
Sylvain’s smile faded; his eyes grew more serious. ‘We will go back.’
‘I hope so.’
The mood had grown sombre and, noticing this, Sylvain cleared his throat and gave a mysterious smile.
‘There’s one more surprise …’
Reaching into the shadows behind the statue, he pulled out a small box tied with silver ribbon.
‘A present?’ Allie beamed at him. She wiped the sticky icing off her fingers before holding out her hands. ‘I can’t believe you got me a present.’
He seemed to find her question absurd. ‘Bien sûr. It’s your birthday.’
Allie loved it when he spoke French.
The ribbon was made of heavy silk. She pulled at the end and it unfurled, revealing a blue jewellery box.
Her heart fluttered. She was suddenly nervous. No boy had ever given her jewellery before.
The box opened with an expensive creak.
‘Oh, Sylvain …’ she breathed.
Inside, a delicate chain of white gold glittered . The chain held two pendants – one a key, ornately designed with swirls and flourishes, the other, an old-fashioned lock, each no bigger than her thumbprint.
Allie couldn’t seem to move as Sylvain lifted the necklace from the little pins that held it in place on a satin cushion.
‘I had this made for you.’ Gently, he moved her hair out of the way so he could place the necklace around her throat. The metal was cool against her skin. ‘It is how I feel about you. The secrets in your life … I want to give you a key to all of them. Unlock them for you. So you can be free.’
Leaning over, he kissed the bare nape of her neck above the collar of her blouse. She quivered at the touch.
Then she turned round until she sat on his lap, legs on either side of his waist. His hands were firm against the small of her back, holding her steady.
She reached up to cup his face in her hands. In the fairy light, his eyes sparkled like sapphires.
She felt a tear trace a soft path down her cheek. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given to me. I will love it forever. Thank you.’