by Mandy Baggot
‘What is ruined?’ Silvie asked gently.
‘Everything,’ Keeley sobbed. ‘Because I wasn’t being Kidney Girl. I promised Rach. And it was really refreshing to just be the person I was before I had the accident and before I lost Bea. I hadn’t been that person for so long I had forgotten who she was. And I was starting to get to know her properly again and I like her. And now…’
‘Now?’ Silvie asked.
‘Now, not only am I going to have to tell Ethan about my transplant, I’m also going to have to tell him that I have Ferne’s kidney.’
Silvie didn’t immediately reply and when Keeley looked up it was to see tears were in the woman’s eyes too. She suddenly felt very selfish for coming here at all.
‘I’m sorry,’ Keeley said, standing up. ‘I sound so ungrateful. I shouldn’t have come. I don’t know what I was thinking. I probably wasn’t thinking at all. I’ve insulted you and I’ve insulted Ferne’s memory and—’
‘Keeley,’ Silvie said. ‘Please, sit down. Please.’
The woman said it in such a manner that Keeley didn’t refuse. Dropping down to the sofa again she held her hands together, now feeling utterly exhausted.
‘You are an intelligent girl,’ Silvie began. ‘No, not a girl. You are a woman.’ She drew the cord of her gown more tightly around her. ‘A woman who is living.’
‘I know,’ Keeley said. ‘And I know right now I sound so selfish and completely ungracious but…’
‘Do you know what I think? I think you worry too much about everyone else,’ Silvie said firmly. ‘I think you worry and think about everything so much that you forget the most important person.’ Silvie took hold of Keeley’s hands again, holding them tight. ‘Like you said. You.’ Silvie smiled. ‘It is time to think of you.’
Keeley shook her head.
‘What are you most afraid of?’
‘Telling Ethan.’
‘Telling Ethan what?’
‘That…’ Her brain was firing now, taking in everything Silvie had told her. What part of this whole scenario was the worst? Her admitting she lived a life watching her health with the possibility of more operations in the future and a shorter shelf life than most? Or that Ethan’s deceased best friend had gifted a piece of herself and it was her death that had brought them together. Or… that she had fallen in love with him.
Silvie held Keeley’s hands in hers again and sighed. ‘Do you know, when I invited you here to Paris, in the back of my mind, I had this very very silly idea… that perhaps you would meet Louis and you and he would…’ Suddenly all Lizzie’s warnings about being held hostage tap-danced into Keeley’s conscience.
Silvie shook her head. ‘So silly. What was I thinking?’ She took a breath. ‘Keeley, I want you to know and believe that that was never my principal thought when I reached out. It was always about getting to know you and finding out how you were. I had thought about approaching the hospital before, but I was not ready before. And then, as time went on, and the thought came again and would not let go, I began to pray that I had not missed my chance to connect. And the more I hoped, the more I realised I had to take the chance. What harm was there to call them? To ask if you had left your details accessible if I did ever decide to write. And when they passed on the email address I was delighted. I think I drafted that short email about a hundred times and I still was not sure it was right. Would you reply? Or would you decide that to know me would perhaps set back your recovery and your healing. And I had no idea about your poor, poor sister.’ She paused for a beat. ‘But then I met you and I really began to get to know what an incredibly kind and beautiful person you are. You are exactly the kind of person Ferne would be cheering on if she were still here. Someone strong and independent, a caring friend with a gentle and beautiful spirit. Someone who thought nothing of jumping on a train to meet a very stupid, sentimental old woman.’
‘Silvie,’ Keeley said.
‘Yes, my darling girl.’
‘I think,’ Keeley began. ‘I think… I am in love with Ethan.’
Silvie nodded, long and slow, her hands still cupping Keeley’s so tenderly. Like a mother. ‘Then, you must tell him.’ She smiled. ‘Tell him everything.’
Sixty
L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Tour Eiffel, Paris
‘Wake up! Wake up!’
It was Jeanne’s voice very close to his ear and for a moment, Ethan didn’t know where he was. Then it all came back to him. The previous night, everything being so perfect and then suddenly not. He could sense, more than see, it was morning, but a quick look to the curtains showed there was light behind them and he was lying in the middle of a king-sized bed in one of the rooms at the hotel with a dog between his knees. Bo-Bo let out a yelp as Ethan tried to sit himself up.
‘What time is it?’ he asked Jeanne, moving his arm to check his watch.
‘It’s time you got up,’ Jeanne ordered, bouncing up and down at the end of the bed and rocking his hangover. Just how many bottles from the minibar had he consumed? And why was there an animatronic snowman in the corner? It was stood, by the desk, next to the window, moving very slowly from left to right, glowing on and off and bringing a stick-like arm to its head and eventually managing to tip his hat.
‘What is a snowman doing here?’ he asked, muzzing his hair with his hands then rubbing at his eyes.
‘Ah, well,’ Jeanne began. ‘You brought that upstairs last night. After the fourth glass of Pernod. You said that it was not going to go with the new décor and it was scaring the rabbits.’ She smiled then. ‘I love the rabbits by the way. Can we get one for home?’
So much of that sentence pitter-pattered over his brain. Pernod. Rabbits. But it was the use of the word ‘home’ in relation to his apartment that impacted the most. Suddenly Jeanne’s cheeks reddened and she stopped bouncing, as if realising what she had said.
‘The apartment I mean,’ she corrected herself. ‘Your apartment.’
He smiled at her. ‘You think Bo-Bo would be able not to eat it?’
Jeanne looked at Bo-Bo as if giving the question the deepest of consideration. She patted his head. ‘No,’ she concluded. ‘He would definitely try to eat it.’
Ethan grabbed for his phone on the nightstand then. Keeley. He had to speak to Keeley. Before he could reach it, Jeanne snatched it up and held it to her chest.
‘Jeanne! Come on!’ Ethan ordered, holding out his hand.
‘Calm,’ Jeanne reminded him. ‘Remember what we talked about before the third Pernod?’
Ethan didn’t actually remember drinking any Pernod although his sore throat and taste buds definitely told him otherwise. ‘Jeanne, please give me the phone.’
‘She has replied to your messages,’ Jeanne announced.
Ethan made a grab then, lunging over the mattress and missing the object by mere millimetres as Jeanne leapt off and away from him, Bo-Bo flying off too.
‘Jeanne!’
‘No!’ Jeanne said, shielding the phone as Ethan got off the bed and strode towards her. ‘Calm.’
Ethan shook his head and groaned. ‘You were never talking about “calm” when I met you. You were quite happy for the shouting and rudeness then. Now you sound like an inspirational app.’
Jeanne held the phone up in the air as if that was going to stop Ethan from getting it. She was a little over five feet tall and although she still had long, skinny arms, he was quite able to reach the phone if he so desired. But he held off and instead folded his arms across his chest and waited for her to carry on. Bo-Bo looked very much like he would start nibbling at Ethan’s ankles if he took another step towards his mistress.
‘She has sent you one message,’ Jeanne informed. ‘It is very short.’
‘Let me see it!’
‘In a moment,’ Jeanne said. ‘When you are calm.’
Ethan knew she was right, despite all the dramatics. He took a long slow breath inwards and tried to stop looking at the snowman. He was going to destroy the snowman. And make sur
e Noel was never in charge of decorating the hotels for Christmas ever again.
‘Better?’ Jeanne wanted to know.
‘Better,’ he answered. He wasn’t better. He wasn’t even sure what better looked like at the moment. The only thing he did know was Jeanne had talked him out of making contact with Keeley last night, even confiscating the key card he had demanded from Antoine so he couldn’t take the elevator up to her room. That perhaps had been the right course of action. Everyone knew a new day brought new perspective and there was absolutely nothing he couldn’t put right as soon as he found out what had gone so wrong.
Jeanne handed out his phone and he took it, eager to see what Keeley had said in response to his pleas from last night. It was actually those pleas he saw first. A whole stream of them going down his phone in blue.
Are you OK?
What is wrong?
I am worried about you x
Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? Please call me x
He sounded deranged. He didn’t sound like a person who even deserved the attentions of a woman like Keeley. He swallowed and focused his attention on the short text at the bottom of the messages. Keeley’s reply in grey.
I am OK. But we need to talk. Meet me at 11 a.m. outside La Valentin, Passage Jouffroy.
Passage Jouffroy. He shook his head as a memory arrived. That was it. A location and time. The need to talk. No sentiment added on the end. His heart was sinking faster than dog food in Bo-Bo’s bowl. He didn’t know what to do. He checked his watch again. It was a little after nine. He had time to go to Keeley’s room now. Speak to her now. But he knew in his heart that was not the right thing to do. He let out a sigh, eyes still on the words as if looking for a hidden meaning.
‘What do you think she means?’ he finally asked Jeanne, slumping down to a sitting position on the bed.
‘I think she wants to talk to you,’ Jeanne answered, plumping down next to him, Bo-Bo jumping up too and nuzzling any body part he could get access to.
‘But what does that mean?’ he asked. ‘You are a w…’ He had been about to say the word ‘woman’. She couldn’t be more than… ten? Eleven? ‘How old are you, Jeanne?’
‘Old enough to know that you should not be thinking about storming her room now, when you did so well – with my help – not doing exactly that last night.’
‘How old are you, Jeanne?’ Ethan asked again.
Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. ‘Somewhere between puberty and 5eme at a guess.’
Ethan looked at her, taking her in anew. How had this happened? Going from being single, slightly wobbling on the rails of life, to being a guardian of a maybe-eleven-maybe-twelve-year-old and a wiry long-limbed hound, his heart aching for someone he had fallen in love with… He had fallen in love with Keeley. He was sure. If Jeanne asked him again now he would not deny it. But the right thing to do would be to wait. He would respect Keeley’s request and he would badger her no further. He didn’t want to make things worse if there was a chance he could make things better.
‘Should I reply?’ Ethan asked Jeanne.
‘Yes,’ Jeanne answered, nudging closer to him, her eyes on the screen. ‘But do not say anything ridiculous.’
His thumbs wanted to take over all the keys, telling her he was sorry, even though he didn’t know what he was sorry for. He stilled them and waited.
‘Just say,’ Jeanne started, ‘that you are glad she is OK and that you will see her there.’
‘That is it?’ Ethan asked, unsatisfied.
‘That is it. Any more will sound like you are trying to take control of the situation and you do not want her to feel like that.’ Jeanne hit him with one of her soul-searing looks again. ‘Do you remember, from the streets, how it feels when someone else tries to control your situation?’
A tiny internal part of him pulsed in recognition and he nodded at Jeanne. ‘OK,’ he said, beginning to type. ‘I am glad… you are OK,’ he spoke the text aloud. ‘I will see you there.’ He looked to Jeanne again. ‘Do I add something? A… x.’ He’d said the letter ‘x’ instead of the word ‘kiss’ and was immediately embarrassed he was taking a relationship texting tutorial from a minor. Bo-Bo barked. And a dog…
‘Nothing else,’ Jeanne said firmly. ‘Now press send and put your phone away. We need breakfast.’
‘OK,’ Ethan said, getting to his feet, mildly enthused that at least he was going to get to see Keeley today. ‘OK, you are right. We will go down to the restaurant for breakfast. Come, Bo-Bo,’ he beckoned.
‘No!’ Jeanne exclaimed. ‘We cannot eat in the restaurant. That will be where Keeley and Rach will be having breakfast. Space, remember?’
‘OK,’ Ethan said, nodding. ‘We will go home for breakfast.’ He recognised that he had said the word ‘home’ just like Jeanne had.
‘We could get a hot dog on the way home,’ Jeanne suggested, standing up and clipping Bo-Bo to his lead.
‘You need to learn to eat more healthily,’ Ethan told her.
‘I think if you are going to be my guardian that’s kind of your job.’
‘Fine,’ Ethan replied. ‘Nothing to eat until we get home where we will have cereal.’
‘Ohhhhh!’ Jeanne moaned. ‘A compromise?’ she suggested. ‘How about cake?’
‘How is cake a compromise?’ Ethan asked her.
‘It is not a hot dog.’
Cake. Suddenly the relevance of Keeley wanting to meet at Passage Jouffroy hit him. On the map he had given her, it was the very last place he had marked.
Sixty-One
Notre Dame Marche de Noel, Paris
There was still repair work going on to the famous cathedral following the devastating fire, but the Christmas market set outside it was a picture of festiveness. Around thirty white tents with pointed roofs housed all kinds of gift ideas and were positioned around a central circle where, amid a ring of small decorated and snow-flecked firs, a band was playing Christmas tunes. It would have been idyllic, true December goals, if Keeley’s mind wasn’t tracking through everything she was going to have to say to Ethan in just an hour’s time.
‘You OK?’ Rach asked for somewhere near the twentieth time since their conversation on the balcony early that morning.
Bundled up in coats and the duvets from their beds, the women had shared coffee and tears as Keeley had told her best friend everything that had happened at the Opera hotel and later with Silvie. Rach had held her close and told her everything was going to be alright but Keeley knew in her heart that everything had changed now and there were no ‘alright’ guarantees. She had made the decision to tell Ethan the truth and she had decided on eleven a.m. Except now, even as the clock ticked just after ten, it still felt like an age away. Which was why, shortly after nine, they had decided to travel here. Christmas was still coming. Gifts still needed to be purchased. And Rach loved shopping. It was the ultimate distraction.
Keeley nodded, tightening the belt on her coat.
‘Stupid question. I just… don’t know what else to say,’ Rach admitted as they walked to the next tent selling hand-carved wooden ornaments.
‘It’s OK,’ Keeley answered, scuffing the snow with her boot.
‘It’s not though, is it? And some of it is my fault.’
‘Oh, Rach, it’s really not.’
‘It is!’ Rach carried on. ‘Because if I hadn’t made such a fuss about you not being Kidney Girl on this trip you might have just – I don’t know – met Ethan and told him straightaway about the transplant and Silvie and Ferne and then…’
‘And then I might not have had the most amazing time of my life getting close to him.’ Keeley sighed. Because that’s what she imagined would have happened if Ethan had known from the beginning. He would never have looked at her the same way. Would never have got to know the her she had managed to be since she arrived in France.
‘Well,’ Rach said, ‘like I said after the fourth cup of coffee before we ran out of sachets in the room, if Ethan cares abou
t you like he says he does, then nothing you tell him this morning is going to change that.’
Keeley nodded at her friend, but she didn’t really believe that. Silvie had said Ethan had never wanted to meet the recipient of Ferne’s kidney. She pointed towards a hut a little further ahead of them. ‘Handbags.’
‘You’re changing the subject.’
‘I need to, Rach, seriously,’ Keeley said, taking the deepest of breaths. ‘Tell me something that’s going to take my mind off this.’ She clamped her hands to her body where her scars were. She turned to Rach then, remembering she hadn’t asked her a thing about her evening. ‘How did it go with the VIP client?’
‘OK,’ Rach said, beaming a lot more than the word ‘OK’ really warranted.
‘I’m sensing there’s more to this.’
‘It’s the Bradburys!’ Rach announced. ‘Confidentially of course!’
The Bradbury family were a big deal in the area. Kind of like a legitimate version of the Wallaces in Gangs of London.
‘The Bradburys only want to deal with me. Not Jamie. Not even Roland. Me. And they said, they might even have a few contacts they could recommend my excellent house searching expertise to!’
‘Rach, that’s brilliant!’
‘I know! And I’m thinking, I definitely need to ask for a pay rise if I’m going to start attracting clients of that kind of notoriety or, if Roland starts being a skinflint about it, perhaps I need to start thinking about my own agency. Maybe working from home at first and then, well, I don’t know, it’s just an idea. But I’m excited!’
‘I’m excited too!’ Keeley said. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘I know! So I… drank some tiny bottles of alcohol from the minibar and then I needed something else. So, I ordered some fizzy wine on Silvie’s account which I totally will pay for and…
‘And?
‘And after I finished the fizzy wine I phoned reception and I spoke to Antoine again,’ Rach said, her voice shaking a little. ‘And I kept speaking to Antoine and he was as completely annoying as he always is and still I kept talking and talking and winding him up and…’ Rach seemed to have to stop talking to catch her breath as she thumped the handbag back down on the stall.