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.
‘So, are you looking for Christmas gifts?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘Non,’ he replied. ‘I am looking for items for my hotel.’
‘Hotels,’ Keeley said.
Everything froze for a moment. Did she know he was the part-owner of the hotel she was staying in? How did she know? Had Jeanne somehow gone back on her word and communicated it? Why hadn’t he wanted her to know he was connected to Perfect Paris? Because negotiations were still continuing with regard to the brand’s future? Or because talking about the hotel chain would mean talking about Ferne?
‘You said “hotels” last night when we were talking,’ Keeley said. ‘Unless I misheard. Do you have more than one?’
He wasn’t going to outright lie to her. He nodded. ‘I actually have five.’
‘Wow!’ Keeley exclaimed. ‘I mean… socks are what most people usually own five of. Or books. Or mugs. Or—’
‘I do not want you to get the wrong idea of me,’ Ethan said quickly. He was now acting like he was almost ashamed of his status of hotel chain owner.
‘The wrong idea?’
He nodded, feeling a little like he was going to be fighting with these next words. ‘I am not Mr Hotel. I… merely helped a friend to build her dream and then I was left to carry it on.’ He swallowed. This was much harder than he had envisaged. ‘It is not my vocation. Or rather, it was not. But I feel now as if it maybe could be. You have actually made me feel like it could be.’
*
Ethan had stopped walking now and Keeley halted too, their arms still linked together. His words peppered her heart, marking it with slow, soft indentations.
‘I am not here with the mind of an antique dealer. I am not even here with the vision of an interior designer. I am here to do what you suggested.’
‘Oh,’ Keeley said, not sure she understood.
‘I am here looking for things that matter,’ Ethan continued, stepping in under a canopy. ‘Or rather, things that have mattered.’ He wandered under the ceiling wound with vines and ivy then picked up a mirror that was lying on top of an oriental-style chest of drawers. The wood was old and cracked in places and the glass was smeared and dotted with blemishes. ‘I want to redesign my hotels and make them all about the comfort and all about the story.’ He held the mirror up to their faces so they could see their reflection. ‘Touch. Taste. Feel.’ He carried on. ‘I want the hotels to evoke memories and create new stories, inspired by old stories.’
Keeley could feel her insides reacting to what he was saying. His words were everything she felt about how she wanted her own interior design business to go. She wanted to get to know her clients, understand exactly what their vision was and then dig a little deeper. She carried on looking into the mirror with Ethan.
‘You have brought everything into focus,’ he whispered.
Their framed reflections in this old mirror was like looking at an old photograph, its edges blurred, slightly rumpled, but the two people were knitting together so easily, so perfectly.
‘Can I help you? Look for things?’ Keeley asked as her heart thumped in acknowledgement of how she was feeling here with him.
‘You do not know how much I was hoping you would say that,’ Ethan replied.
His phone bleeped from the pocket of his coat and he put down the mirror. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Keeley. ‘Things with the hotels are busy at this time of year. It might be—’
‘It’s fine,’ Keeley answered. ‘I’ll make a start.’
He watched her walk further into the depths of the makeshift shop all corrugated sheeting and wood that looked like it might fall down at any second. Smiling, he took his phone from his pocket and saw it was a message from Silvie.
Please come to dinner tonight. No talk about Perfect Paris and Louis will be on his best behaviour. I would really like you to meet the girl Ferne was able to help. X
Ethan shuddered. The girl Ferne was able to help. So the person who had his best friend’s kidney was a girl. He thought about Jeanne, just for a few seconds, and then he put his phone back in his pocket. There was no way he was going to go.