in France and I’m here and… it just makes sense.’
‘Does it though?’ Rach asked. ‘Why isn’t she offering to come to London?’
‘Well,’ Keeley began again, ‘if I was her, I might think that coming into my space – into my family’s space – would be more intrusive. I mean, she hasn’t just suddenly turned up at our front door, she’s emailed. She even said that if it was all too painful, or I didn’t want to, then I never had to hear from her again and she wished me all the best for the future.’
Rach plucked a drinks menu from the table and dropped her eyes to it. ‘I’m going to have another one. You?’
‘Rach,’ Keeley said softly. ‘I don’t want to be afraid of what’s happened to me anymore.’ She inhaled. ‘Sometimes, being here, being inside the same world but feeling completely disconnected with everything that’s gone before is really really hard. And I know you think I should “woman up” and you’re right in a lot of respects, but I think doing this, meeting Silvie, might be a way to really move on, you know, properly.’ She pulled the drinks menu down, trying to get Rach to engage with her gaze.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ Rach admitted, looking a little unsure of herself.
Keeley took ownership of the menu and put it back on the table. ‘I was hoping, if the dates work, if we can swing it with Roland… that you might come with me.’
‘What?’ Now Rach’s gaze was connected.
Keeley smiled at her friend’s obvious new enthusiasm. Yes, she might have her concerns about the true purpose of the trip, but Paris was Paris and Paris at nearly Christmas time was even better according to the googling Keeley had done already. She had to admit, the escape factor was a draw too. It was all a little claustrophobic at home, life revolving underneath Grandma Joan’s Christmas ball. This time of year always brought up so many memories – good and bad. And Keeley hadn’t really had any time apart from her parents since Bea’s death. At twenty-six, that couldn’t be healthy.
‘Come with me. You can meet Silvie Durand too. If nothing else it would reassure my mother that I’m not going to be made the centrepiece of a creepy shrine.’
‘Paris,’ Rach whispered. A dreamy sigh ensued that, if visible, Keeley was sure would have been dripping with the gorgeous gooey inside of a pain au chocolat.
‘Will you come with me? If we can arrange it?’ Keeley asked her.
‘I don’t feel good about the set-up. I mean, Silvie Durand – it just sounds like a name from one of my mum’s Danielle Steele novels.’
‘Please, Rach,’ Keeley said. ‘I think I need this.’ She didn’t actually think. She knew.
Rach blew out a breath and then said, ‘I’ll come. On one condition.’ She fixed her best ‘no messing’ face on.
‘What?’
‘If this is really going to be the start of your new beginning you have to not be Kidney Girl.’
‘Rach, I’m going to meet the mother of my donor. There will be kidney talk.’
‘I don’t mean with her,’ Rach clarified. ‘Obviously the offal subject will be raised then. I mean… with the Parisian men. Because,’ she grinned, the snowmen earrings wiggling like they were taking part in a twerk-off, ‘if I’m coming along there will be Parisian men.’
‘I—’
‘Do we have a deal?’ Rach asked, striking out her hand ready for a fist-bump. ‘No tragic undertones to introductions anymore.’
Keeley drew in a breath. It wasn’t her fault she got tongue-tied on first meetings. Her transplant was always somehow an instant go-to for a conservational topic. But Rach had a point, she had made the last guy at the Wool and Goose cry…
‘Deal,’ Keeley agreed, connecting fists with her friend. ‘But I have a condition too.’
Rach looked suddenly suspicious. ‘Is it my Christmas dress you’re always telling me is too short? Because I have to take it to Paris!
‘No!’ Keeley exclaimed. ‘I want you to do something to stop this dye coming out of my hair!’ She presented her hands forward, streaked with brown again.
‘Is that all?’ Rach said, relaxing back into her seat again. ‘Phew.’
‘Can you do it?’ Keeley inquired.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Rach admitted. ‘But I’ll have a look on the internet. Someone somewhere has always had a similar experience. Even if your experience is… “what to do if you’ve got your left foot trapped between a fire extinguisher and man called Joey.”’ Rach picked the menu off the