Then her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met with a woman seated in the middle of the arcade. She was wearing a taupe-coloured coat and had her fingers entwined in front of her on the table. She was nothing like the stylish icon of fashion Keeley had made up in her head. This woman had silver hair, smartly kept, modern, simple and her face was subtly made-up, a sheen of apricot colour on her lips.
Keeley didn’t know how she knew but she knew. This was Silvie. This was Ferne’s mother.
‘Rach,’ she whispered. ‘That’s her.’
‘What?’ Rach said, looking up from her phone.
‘The lady over there, halfway down… I don’t know why… I just… that’s Silvie.’
Keeley looked to Rach then and watched her friend narrow her eyes, as if tuning in to the potential Silvie with a truth-finding glance. Before Keeley could say anything else, Rach had taken a waiter by the arm.
‘Excusez-moi,’ Rach greeted. ‘We are here to meet Madame Silvie Durand.’
‘Oui, Mademoiselle. Just this way.’
And now it was happening. Before she had a chance to process further, Keeley felt her knee joints lock together as every step she took down through the rows of tables and chairs under this elaborate and regal ceiling led her towards the decision she’d made to do this. Her face flushing, her eyes almost too scared to leave the stone of the floor, she shrunk into Rach’s shadow letting her friend lead the way and take the initial impact of discovery.
It seemed to be taking such a long time to traverse mere metres. And she remembered the last time life had slowed like that. One moment she had been singing along to Dua Lipa, the next there was a horrendous squeal of brakes, glass shattering and shards of it were flying through the air along with her handbag, the contents of her handbag and her unsecured sister…
‘Bonjour.’
It was her. It was the woman Keeley had locked eyes with and she was standing up now, her expression warm and welcoming, her eyes kind.
‘I…’ Keeley began. She didn’t know what to say. It was like she had lost her ability to form any kind of sensible speech. How hard was it to say a simple ‘hello’? Just start with a smile and maybe the ‘h’. ‘I’m… Heeley.’ She shook her head, embarrassment painting its red hue all over her face. ‘I’m sorry, I… I’m Keeley.’ Her eyes were smarting with tears all of a sudden.
‘And I’m Rach,’ Rach said quickly. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘It is OK,’ Silvie said gently. ‘This is a very… unusual situation, I realise. Please, both of you, sit down. Let us order some more coffees or perhaps something stronger.’
Keeley had to gather herself together. Except when you were about to sit opposite the woman whose daughter had saved your life as she left hers, it wasn’t quite so simple.
‘I could murder a beer,’ Rach informed, taking the seat on the edge of the table for three, almost between Keeley and Silvie.
For this, Keeley was grateful. It meant there was a little distance, the table between them and, for now, that felt right.
‘Keeley, would you like a little vin rouge?’ Silvie asked her.
‘I probably shouldn’t, but thank you.’
‘She definitely should,’ Rach replied before turning to Keeley. ‘You definitely should.’
‘You can order anything you want,’ Silvie assured her. ‘I am so glad you came all this way.’ She took a long, languid breath. ‘It really is so wonderful to meet you.’
Keeley felt herself calm a little bit, and as she moved her chair a touch closer to the table, her insides twitched in that way they sometimes did, as if in acknowledgement that this was a big deal.
‘I’ll have a glass of red wine,’ Keeley agreed with a small smile. ‘If you will have one with me.’
Silvie smiled back and gave a laugh. ‘But of course. And we will order some water too, non?’
‘And a beer,’ Rach added, unbuttoning her coat. ‘Une pinte.’
‘Bon,’ Silvie said, raising a hand to beckon back the waiter.
*
They had got their drinks, they had ordered food, then discussed the weather and the fact that Christmas would soon be here. But everyone knew there was a topic they couldn’t avoid much longer. It was, after all, their whole reason for being here. Keeley took a sip of her wine as easy conversation that had bubbled up with no effort at all suddenly dried up like a very poor comedian.
Keeley offered a smile to Silvie, mentally willing her to break the ice. But then she watched the woman draw an expensive-looking handbag up from the floor, propping it onto her knee. Perhaps Keeley should take the lead…
But, before she could, Silvie began. ‘I… was not sure what exactly to say when I met you, Keeley. I have thought for a long time, perhaps for all the time Ferne has been gone, that I would like to meet you. But it took me many many months to think about it with logic.’ She took a breath. ‘Do you understand what I say?’
Keeley nodded. ‘Yes. Yes I do.’
‘To begin with I would think that to want to know you… to want to know how you are… that it would be selfish of me. And maybe it still is. But…’
Keeley could see Silvie was becoming emotional and she had so many feelings too. ‘I understand.’
‘I am not putting all this very well, am I?’ Silvie asked. ‘Keeley, my reason for wanting to meet you is to thank you.’
‘Thank me?’
Silvie nodded. ‘Just to know that there was someone out there, living their life, enjoying fresh air and… the red wine.’ She smiled. ‘And experiencing all the colour that life has… it gave me hope through the very darkest of times. But then, most recently, it became something else. My wish changed. Now, I would like to get to know you.’ Silvie smiled again. ‘I wish for you not to be a stranger. If that is acceptable to you, of course.’
Keeley felt her tension ease a little and then she spoke. ‘Well, Madame Durand, I am here because… I want to thank you… to thank your daughter… for giving me that chance to keep on living.’
Tears were glistening in Silvie’s eyes then. ‘Well,’ she started. ‘This…’ She paused. ‘This is Ferne.’
From the handbag on her lap, Silvie pulled out a small oblong photograph and placed it in the centre of the table next to the glass of festive pinecones, silver swirls and condiments.
Keeley gasped immediately. ‘Oh… goodness… she’s… so beautiful.’
‘So beautiful,’ Rach agreed. ‘Gorgeous hair.’
Keeley lifted her eyes from the picture to meet Silvie’s gaze. ‘May I… pick it up?’
‘But of course,’ Silvie said, still smiling. ‘Please.’
Keeley took the photo between her fingers and looked into the face of the woman who had saved her. She truly was so pretty and it was the most natural of poses. Ferne was wearing a bit of make-up – not that she needed any at all – her long blonde hair flowing loose like it was caught on a breeze. She had the widest most genuine smile and blue eyes that seemed to be smiling too. She looked so vibrant, so full of life. It was heart-breaking to know that she was no longer here.