The boulangerie-cum-café was a little like Ollivander’s shop from Harry Potter, but instead of boxes of magic wands, there were baskets and display cases filled with baguettes, croissants, madeleines and other sweet and savoury delights. Steam from the coffee machines and griddles was rising into the warm air misting up the windows that held a menagerie of quaint festive decorations – golden wire balls and small silver fir cones joined together by rustic rope. The eatery was starting to get busy as the morning took hold and Keeley could only imagine what an odd threesome they made to onlookers.
Ethan had taken charge when the vet had arrived. With the girl still sobbing, he had explained what they believed to have happened and the vet administered some medication that sent Bo-Bo to sleep. Unconsciousness and easier breathing. Not death. Although it took a few minutes, after the vet’s gentle examination of the pet, for the girl to be convinced that the man’s intention was preservation. And now, with Bo-Bo off to the surgery, they had come here to keep warm and wait for more information before deciding what to do next. A large plate of pancakes with bacon and a huge serving of mushrooms was keeping the girl from crying or actually saying anything at all.
‘You are OK?’ Ethan asked Keeley.
She had already drunk half her cup of coffee, relishing the way it was warming her up. Her ribs were also a little thankful that their jog had been cut short. ‘I’m OK.’
‘I am sorry that our run did not turn out the way we hoped it might.’ He sighed. ‘By that, I mean, that I had hoped I could show you a little more of the city and no one would get hurt.’
She looked at him. His hands were cupping his coffee, but he had not taken a sip of it. He still looked a little pale.
‘It’s OK,’ Keeley answered. ‘What else could we do but help?’ She indicated their café companion who was now squirting tomato ketchup all over everything on her plate.
Ethan leaned forward then. ‘What is your name?’
The girl looked up, chewing brutally. ‘I do not talk to strangers.’
‘How can I be a stranger?’ Ethan wanted to know. ‘We met yesterday and today I have bought you breakfast. I have also provided your animal with medical assistance.’
‘What is your name?’ the girl asked, shooting him a defiant look.
‘That is simple,’ Ethan said. ‘My name is Ethan Bouchard. Now, it is your turn.’
She paused, fork in mid-air, then said a curt, ‘Jeanne.’
‘And your last name?’
The girl shrugged her shoulders and carried on eating.
Keeley picked up the conversation, keeping her tone light. ‘Where do you live? Won’t your parents be worried about you? You were out very early in the morning on your own.’
‘Parents?! Ha!’ Jeanne laughed loud and nudged Ethan with her elbow. ‘She thinks… that people like us have parents.’
Keeley frowned. What did she mean? Did she have some kind of connection to Ethan?
‘You have had a shock,’ Ethan told her. ‘Bo-Bo being hit by a car.’
The mention of her beloved animal’s name seemed to pull Jeanne back into a funk and she forked mushrooms between her lips, one of them falling out and dripping down her chin before landing on her plate. Keeley suspected Jeanne was going to clam up again. She watched as Ethan finally took a gulp of his coffee.
‘Where did you learn? You know, what you did,’ he suddenly asked Keeley as more café patrons headed in through the front door, a chill blast of the outside weather following them.
‘What I did?’
‘With the dog,’ he elaborated.
‘He has a name!’ Jeanne interrupted gruffly.
‘With… Bo-Bo,’ Ethan added.
Keeley drew in a breath, gathering her coffee cup in towards her chest and thinking about Erica. ‘Well, it’s because I used to volunteer at my local hospital and now I help out at the hospice.’
‘Wow,’ Ethan breathed and then he seemed to reconsider her words. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Keeley answered. ‘I mean, it’s not much. In my spare time I spend a few hours every week visiting the patients who don’t have family. I read to them sometimes, or I just sit with the very poorly ones and I tell them things that are going on in the world… like, I don’t know, the Spice Girls making another comeback or… what Harry Redknapp is currently endorsing.’
‘That is Prince Harry’s new surname? The red nap?’ Ethan asked, looking super-confused. ‘I do not understand.’
Keeley couldn’t help but smile. ‘No… he’s… someone else. It doesn’t matter.’ She wet her lips. ‘What I do at the hospice is… I try to make the patients’ lives a little bit lighter. I never think that being there is only about dying. I think it should still be about living. I help patients to… get the most out of those last moments.’ She smiled. ‘At least that’s what I try to do.’
‘Why do you do that?’ Ethan asked, his eyes meeting hers. ‘If that is not too much to ask. I would like to understand.’
Jeanne dropped her knife and fork to her plate, sweeping up her glass of orange juice and gulping at it as if she hadn’t had a drink in a couple of days. She let out a satisfied gasp then looked at Keeley with a pertinent expression. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Why do you do that?’
Both of them were scrutinising her now, waiting for some divine answer she wasn’t sure she wanted to give. But it was obvious from the silence and their expressions that they weren’t going to let this go.
‘I decided to volunteer at the hospital… after my sister died.’
*
Ethan inhaled and he knew he had failed to stop it being audible even above the hubbub of the café. He pushed his tongue into his teeth and kept his expression as neutral as he could. She had lost someone close to her, just like he had…
‘Was she very old? Or sick?’ Jeanne burst out.
‘Neither,’ Keeley said evenly. ‘She had an accident. The paramedics, they did everything they could that night but… she couldn’t be saved. And I… didn’t get to say the goodbye I wanted to.’ Her voice wasn’t so even now and Ethan looked to her fingers, clasping hold of the table, nails digging into the wood grain.
She started to talk again. ‘I guess I wanted to give something back in memory of my sister and make a small difference. Help those who have the chance to recover and now… I help others through their final battle.’ She paused. ‘Everyone deserves someone holding their hand when they die.’
Her words hit home hard as she turned her face towards him, their eyes connecting. She was the most special, selfless person and he found himself only wanting to find out even more about her.
The moment was broken by the ringing of a mobile phone. It wasn’t his and Jeanne had turned her attention back to eating.
Ethan took another sip of his coffee and watched Keeley stand up and answer.
‘Hello, Rach… sorry… no, I’m fine. Honestly. No, I didn’t get your messages I was… helping someone and… I forgot the time. Yes, I’ll be back for breakfast I promise. OK. Bye.’
Keeley ended the call then retook her seat. ‘Sorry, that was my friend. She’d apparently sent me five texts and was considering calling the gendarmerie.’
She smiled but Jeanne didn’t react so well. At the mention of the police the girl had shrunk a little into her seat.
‘I should go,’ Keeley said. ‘Unless you need me to wait for news…’ Her eyes went from Ethan to Jeanne then back again. ‘From the vet.’
He watched Keeley finish her drink, making to leave. There was nothing she could do here. She had places to be. Except he didn’t want her to leave without knowing he would see her again.
‘If Bo-Bo dies will you come to the funeral?’ Jeanne said, all big water-filled eyes now and none of the insolence.
‘Funeral?’ Ethan balked.
‘You have to have faith, Jeanne,’ Keeley told her. ‘You believe in Bo-Bo, don’t you? You told me he is a clever dog.’
‘I saw the look on the face of the vet,’ Jeanne said, wiping her nose with her sleeve. ‘He does not believe he can be fixed.’
‘Hey,’ Ethan said, drawing the girl’s attention to him. ‘I believe he can be fixed. And I anticipate I will be paying a great deal of Euro once the fixing is done.’
‘A party then?’ Jeanne asked, eyes a little brighter. ‘If not a funeral then a party for his recovery.’
‘Will I be paying for that also?’ Ethan wanted to know.
Jeanne’s face was turning red now as she hit him with a look that suggested a meltdown was going to ensue if he did not agree.
‘A party,’ Ethan announced. ‘Of course. We will make sure he will have the best survivor party a doggy could wish for.’
‘And you will come?’ Jeanne asked looking at Keeley.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Of course, I will come.’
‘We should… exchange numbers,’ Ethan said. ‘For… party arrangements.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Keeley agreed. ‘That makes sense.’
‘Good,’ Ethan answered as he created a contact on screen.
Despite the unusual circumstances, it seemed that their next date was set.