‘She’s probably, you know, resting,’ Rach said softly.
‘Or she’s too ill to answer the phone. Or…’ She was already thinking it. Not there at all.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Rach said, sounding a little too upbeat. Keeley knew this was because she was worrying.
‘She won’t though, will she?’ Keeley swallowed, feeling a little guilty about the bright lights and the warmth beneath the marquee filled with goodies. ‘That’s the only certainty.’
Suddenly Keeley’s phone trilled in her hand and it made Keeley jump, almost knocking into a display of charcuterie items including some rather delicious-looking smoked sausages.
‘It’s Erica,’ Keeley breathed, her heart doing a happy bounce at this revelation.
‘Well,’ Rach said, ‘don’t just look at her name on the screen! Answer it!’
Keeley did just that, but turned the screen so it was facing the sausage display in all its glory. She knew her friend would appreciate it.
‘Hello?’ a voice said down the line. ‘Who is this?’
Keeley gulped. It wasn’t Erica. It was someone else. Now Keeley was back to being concerned about her friend’s health. She quickly switched the screen back around and looked at the caller on screen. It was a nurse.
‘Hello?’ the woman said again.
‘Hello… I’m Keeley… Keeley Andrews. I volunteer there, at the hospice and I’m Erica’s friend and…’
‘I’m Nurse Walters.’
‘And you’re answering someone else’s phone because?’ Rach questioned.
‘Rach,’ Keeley said, trying desperately to keep composed. ‘Nurse Walters, is Erica not… there?’ There were so many eventualities that could be associated with the word ‘there’. She could hardly breathe. She was seeing the looks on her parents faces when they told her Bea was gone. The first thought that had gone through her mind then was she would never hear Bea’s annoying humming along to the radio as she made coffee in the morning…
‘No,’ Nurse Walters replied, the phone screen wobbling as her face moved in and out of shot. She appeared to be dipping in and out of sight busying herself with something. It was hard to see in what looked like a darkened hospital room.
‘Well, where is she?’ Keeley was internally bracing herself for bad news. She didn’t know this nurse, but her matter-of-fact attitude was obvious. Was she about to brazenly impart tragic information over FaceTime? Surely a carer wouldn’t do that…
‘We’re moving her,’ she informed, again no-nonsense. ‘To another room.’
‘What other room?’ Her relief that Erica was still alive would only be absolute if this room was one of the ones further up the corridor rather than down it.
‘Room nine,’ the nurse said, finally stopping with her business and connecting with Keeley’s eyes.
‘Room nine,’ Keeley mouthed.
‘Room nine?’ Rach asked, none the wiser.
There was only one reason people got moved into room nine.
‘You understand?’ the nurse asked.
‘I don’t bloody understand!’ Rach exclaimed.
‘It’s…’ Keeley couldn’t bring herself to say the words. ‘It’s…’
‘Listen,’ the nurse interrupted. ‘She’s not too bad today, but she’s showing signs that things are taking a turn. We thought the view might be appropriate now.’
Tears were leaking out of Keeley’s eyes before she even knew about it. They were streaking her face and dropping onto her red coat, Rach still looking oblivious. She attempted to gather herself together and cleared her throat. ‘Could you take the awful painting?’
‘What?’ Nurse Walters asked.
‘The painting. In the room there. The poodles. She’s called the big one Henry.’
‘I will see what I can do.’
‘Please,’ Keeley begged. ‘And… make sure she has Nick Jonas with her.’
‘She can still talk at the moment,’ Nurse Walters said, her stern demeanour slackening a little. ‘She told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to touch that particular photograph. She actually clung on to it like it was a rock face she was climbing and it was the only handhold.’
Erica was still here in spirit. That was some good news. And the thought of her grabbing onto her favourite Jonas brother and being bolshy was comforting. Keeley opened her mouth to say something else but the nurse beat her to it.
‘Maybe try her a little later. Once she’s settled into the new surroundings. I’ll let her know you’ve called.’
‘It’s Keeley,’ she said. ‘Tell her it was Keeley.’
‘I will,’ Nurse Walters answered.
‘Bye,’ Keeley said, ending the call and slipping the phone into her pocket.
Rach put an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. ‘I’m guessing room nine isn’t good.’
Keeley shook her head. ‘No.’ She took a breath. ‘Room nine is where… people go to die.’
Rach drew her closer still and Keeley took a moment to enjoy the comfort of her friend beside her. And then her phone began to ring again. She drew it out.
‘Ethan?’ Rach exclaimed, eyes on the screen. ‘Who is Ethan, Keeley?’
Thirty-Six
La Barbouquin, Rue Denoyez, Paris
‘You cannot still be hungry.’
‘It is not for me. It is for Bo-Bo.’
Ethan still could not believe that the dog was behaving as if nothing had happened to it. The call from Antoine had been almost as shocking as the news that the ownership of the hotels was now shared with an animal charity. When Ethan had arrived at the hotel it was to find Antoine and members of his housekeeping staff attempting to corral the frightened rampaging canine in the underground carpark with mops, brooms and large cardboard rolls of Christmas gift wrap. The dog remained terrified until Ethan had fetched Jeanne from the hotel room and straightaway, her presence had calmed the dog and turned the violent yapping into uncertain whining. Then Jeanne had managed to launch herself at Bo-Bo and bearhug him to the ground while deftly snapping on a new lead Antoine had acquired from somewhere.
‘Bo-Bo should not even be in here,’ Ethan reminded.
He had needed to get out of the Tour Eiffel hotel earlier. He didn’t want the questions about the dog or Jeanne from anyone and he definitely didn’t want Silvie or Louis to find out and make a big issue about it. Louis’s shock over Ferne’s change in wishes would not last long. Ethan knew how the man responded to things. It was all immediate knee-jerks followed by simmering in the juices of rage, then finally a coming to a boil with renewed vigour. Just like he had when they were children when he would protest about something Ethan and Ferne wanted to do that he didn’t agree with. He had lost a man-at-arms when Pierre had passed away but today’s Louis would still try to find a way to push his idea through, maybe attempt to coerce the animal shelter somehow. Ethan now had to ensure that Perfect Paris was worth more to the charity going forward and looking at growth, than it would be as one quick financial fix in a sale. And he already had the beginnings of an idea forming…