A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,139

her ear. ‘Hello.’

‘H…ey.’

Keeley screwed her eyes up tight. It was Erica but she sounded so weak. So so weak. Now was the time to gather herself and say only positive things. Because amid whatever she was going through there was someone in the UK she needed to be super-strong for. ‘Hi, Erica. I was going to send you another video. Do you want the River Seine and some of the boats, or do you want cakes and coffee and Parisian walkways?’

There was a pause and Keeley could hear how laboured her friend’s breathing really was. She waited.

‘No… more… time for… videos,’ Erica whispered.

The tears were in Keeley’s eyes before she really, truly acknowledged their presence. Her friend was truly losing her battle now. ‘OK,’ Keeley answered. ‘No more videos. Just tell me what you want me to do.’

She turned towards the window of the café, shielding herself from the passing shoppers who were talking as they strolled, sharing laughs and holiday joy. Part of her wished she could be there with Erica now, holding her hand, wetting her mouth with a moist swab, sheening a little balm on her lips. Be the friend she needed, right by her side.

‘You,’ Erica began. ‘You… owe me… a photo.’

Keeley furrowed her brow. What was she talking about? And then, all at once she remembered. The selfie. The photo of her and Ethan from the night before. Before everything had changed. She had taken the picture, but she had never sent it. ‘Oh, Erica, I’m so sorry! I took the photo but… I forgot to send it to you. Give me a minute.’ She took the phone away from her ear for a second.

‘Not now,’ Erica breathed. ‘When… I’m done.’

Keeley paid proper attention again, pressing the phone back to the side of her face. ‘I’m listening. I’m here.’

The sound of Erica’s slow rattling breaths was heart-breaking, but Keeley had to keep it together. She simply had to be here and listen.

‘You are… the best friend… I ever… had,’ Erica made clear.

‘Oh, Erica,’ Keeley sobbed. ‘You are the strongest, most opinionated, most brilliant person I’ve ever met.’

‘I… know that,’ Erica wheezed in approval. ‘And… I am counting… on you… to… live for… you… and live… for Bea and… for me and… to wear out that kidney… you got given… with all the fun… the world has.’

Keeley was nodding as the tears tracked down her cheeks, her eyes blurring and the flans in La Valentin’s window display beginning to lose their vivid shape. ‘I promise you. I will do that.’

‘Swear it,’ Erica ordered, making the words as clear as she was able. ‘Swear it… on Nick Jonas.’

‘I swear it,’ Keeley told her. ‘I swear it on Nick Jonas. I promise.’ She sobbed and tried to catch the sound in her throat so Erica couldn’t hear her despair. She had to be brave all over again. Face this farewell to someone she loved for a second time. This was Erica saying her final goodbyes and this was Keeley’s chance to say goodbye too. She had never had the opportunity to tell Bea how much she loved her, what an amazing little sister she had been, how life would never be the same without her. But she had a chance to say all the things she wanted to say with Erica now.

‘I am never going to forget you, Erica,’ Keeley told her, her voice full of admiration and, she hoped, strength she never knew she possessed. ‘You are one amazing, fierce friend and I am going to do…’ Keeley stopped talking. She had been about to say she was going to do her best, but this was the time for being a whole lot more definite than that. ‘I am going to savour every moment like it’s… turkey crisps and Celebrations and… popcorn.’ She took another breath, her thoughts gaining momentum. ‘I am going to… dance like poodles and I’m going to be—’

‘All in,’ Erica interrupted. ‘All in… every time.’

Erica’s statement hit Keeley hard and she crushed her lips together, fearful all her emotions were going to leak out and down the phone line. ‘All in,’ Keeley repeated. ‘Every time.’

It took Erica a few moments to speak again and it was obvious the conversation was sapping her strength. ‘Don’t… say goodbye.’

‘I won’t,’ Keeley replied, turning away from the café window and again facing the shoppers flowing through the nineteenth century passageway. ‘Because… it’s not goodbye.’ Her tears were falling faster now. ‘I’m in France and I have had