‘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.