‘Did you hear what I said?’ Rach asked. ‘Gucci.’
‘I did hear but…’ Keeley stopped talking when something caught her eye. Was that… Bo-Bo? She shook her head and closed her eyes, then quickly opened them again. Looking over to stalls selling artwork and chandeliers she watched the dog spinning around, no lead on the end of a collar. But why would Bo-Bo be here? It was a bit of a Metro journey for Jeanne to take but, then again, she was a girl who seemed to be able to defy all the usual prerequisites for a person of her age. It could be any scruffy brown dog really though. Couldn’t it?
‘Fuck! There’s a handbag here I saw on eBay!’ Rach exclaimed, still rifling through the wares at a rate of knots.
The dog barked and then bumped into a hostess trolley filled with glassware. The glasses started to rock and reel and that’s when Keeley made a decision. Rach was going to have to deal with the anger of the stallholder on her own if those frocks ended up in an inch of snow on the ground. Whether the dog was Bo-Bo or not, she was going to have to do something!
Forty-Five
Animals were going to be the death of Ethan. Not a minute after his talk with Jeanne about ‘sharing space’, Bo-Bo had somehow slipped his leash and gone bounding off into the thick of the market. Before he took off, Ethan had ordered Jeanne to stay exactly where she was. He didn’t want to lose child and canine, but he suspected, as soon as his back was turned, Jeanne was going to be in pursuit too. Bo-Bo was fast and he had lost sight of him completely a couple of times. Until now. The dog was just up ahead, turning around in circles, until suddenly he banged against a trolley full of delicate-looking glasses.
‘Merde!’
Ethan sprinted forward, rushing to connect with dog or trolley. Instead what happened was he connected with a person. And before he knew it he was tumbling onto the ground.
‘Oh, gosh! Oh, monsieur, I am so, so sorry!’
The voice was familiar. Seeing stars in his peripheral Ethan looked up, wondering if he had banged his head. There was barking, smashing glass, something wet against his face… and he felt sure he could hear… Keeley?
‘Ethan!’
That was most definitely Keeley’s voice. And the wet sensation was still there. He then realised it was Bo-Bo’s rough tongue, licking at his face. ‘He… has no lead.’
‘I have the lead!’
That was Jeanne’s voice. So, she had not done what she was told and stayed where he could find her. But she was thankfully here and not missing. Ethan shook his head and attempted to stand.
‘Are you OK?’ Keeley asked.
He felt her hands then, holding onto his arms and helping him up off the ground. He urged his body to comply. The last thing he needed right now was bumps, bruises or a face as red and lumpy as Louis’s.
‘I am OK,’ he answered, finally standing and trying to make sense of the scene. There were a few broken glasses on the floor and the stallholder was already out sweeping away the destruction. ‘Monsieur, I am very sorry for the damage. Let me pay for it. It is my dog that has caused this.’ He reached into his pocket for his wallet.
‘He’s my dog,’ Jeanne said, Bo-Bo now back on his lead and dancing around a little bit less.
The owner of the stall accepted more than half of the Euro notes in his wallet. Those glasses had to be from at least the Victorian era or maybe he had just been taken for a ride. At this moment Ethan didn’t care. He faced Jeanne. ‘You must control him better.’
‘I was,’ she exclaimed. ‘It is the new lead the man who doesn’t like anything touched put on him. I have not got used to it yet.’ She smiled. ‘Can I get another brioche?’
‘Jeanne! Another one?’ Ethan exclaimed.
‘Please!’ She put her hands together in a begging stance and almost dropped Bo-Bo’s lead for a second time.
Ethan pulled another note from his wallet and gave it to her. ‘One brioche and two coffees. Ask them to wrap the brioche so you can put it into your pocket while you carry the coffees.’ He took the lead out of Jeanne’s hands. ‘And I will look after Bo-Bo.’ He ensured a good grip on the lead. ‘You remember where the stall is.’
‘I’ve got it,’ Jeanne answered with a nod. ‘Two coffees and two brioches.’
Before Ethan could protest about the doubling of the brioche order, Jeanne was off into the hubbub again. Ethan tried to elongate his spine, the tumble definitely having strained something. Finally he smiled at Keeley and gave a small bow. ‘Good afternoon.’
Keeley laughed. ‘Good afternoon.’ She gave a curtsey, holding the edge of her bright red coat and doing a quick bob.
Ethan sighed, giving himself a little time to be mindful. His body was already starting to loosen, simply from enjoying her smile. ‘We must try to stop meeting like this,’ he said. ‘Or one of us might get really injured.’
‘I agree,’ Keeley said, nodding. ‘My bruises from my brush with you and the penguin are still stuck between blue and purple.’
‘It is the animals!’ Ethan declared, putting his arms to the heavens. ‘They are to blame for everything.’ He put his arms back down and smiled at her. ‘What brings you to Les Puces?’
‘Well, it’s getting closer to Christmas and I need to get some gifts organised. Plus Rach is a huge fan of shopping and… well…’ She looked a little bashful then. ‘It was on your map.’
He had put the market with over three thousands stalls on the map he had made for her because it had been one of his regular places to visit. In the darkest times of his youth he had escaped here with half a dozen other orphans to take part in picking the pockets of anyone they had marked as having money. He had also come here with Ferne, trying to find a chink of treasure, a hidden or long-forgotten work from Picasso or Matisse, antique furniture as a gift for Silvie. Two very different sides of his time spent here. Two eras of his life as far removed from each other as could be.
‘It is a unique place,’ Ethan remarked. ‘Shall we walk?’ He offered her the arm that was not bearing the weight of a feisty Bo-Bo.
He watched Keeley turn, her eyes on a table a little way away.
‘Rach is over there, but she looks to be in a deep bartering session.’
‘Not far,’ Ethan assured. ‘Jeanne will need to find us.’
Keeley took his arm and her touch sent his head spinning for the second time today. Their connection just somehow felt right.
‘Today people come here expecting to spend a lot of money. There are antiques everywhere,’ Ethan told her. ‘Some stalls are a subsidiary of an established business elsewhere in Paris. They move some of their pieces here into the hub where rich collectors and interior designers, like yourself, come to find extravagant pieces to fill an investment request or style a home.’
‘There are so many stalls and shopfronts here,’ Keeley answered as they strolled, Bo-Bo still pulling enthusiastically. ‘I’ve really never seen anything like it.’
‘You will need an entire week to walk around it fully,’ Ethan said. ‘It is seven hectares.’
‘Oh my God! My legs ache just thinking about it.’
‘Mine too,’ he admitted with a laugh. ‘But I believe Bo-Bo would consider it.’ The dog was sniffing his way across the concrete.