A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,20
together and—’
‘I said no,’ Ethan started. ‘How could you…? Why would you…? It’s not right.’
‘Ethan,’ Silvie said, getting to her feet.
‘No,’ Ethan said again. ‘I want nothing to do with… that. Nothing.’
Fury forging him on, he turned away, tears making his eyelashes bristle. He was heading to the nearest bar. He might even smoke.
Eight
The Resting Hospice, Kensington, London
A week later – December
Keeley had Eurostar tickets for her and Rach, dated tomorrow, paid for by Silvie Durand. She had told her parents her decision and afterwards she had watched her mum eat wild blueberry jam straight from the jar with a dessert spoon. Her dad had comforted Lizzie and said all the good and positive things to ease his wife’s concerns but Keeley knew it was also to reassure her that she was doing the right thing. She still wasn’t completely positive she was, but she really felt that not taking the opportunity would be much worse. Not accepting would have meant a lifetime of wondering ‘what if’. This was a once only opportunity to find out exactly who her donor was and maybe feel a little more at peace with what had happened that one night.
She paused outside Erica’s room and felt inside her bag for the turkey-flavoured crisps she’d bought plus the framed Nick Jonas photo. She was hoping it was going to soften the blow of her leaving for a while. She also prayed it would give Erica a small boost to keep her spirits up. The very last thing she wanted to happen was for her leaving for France to be a cue for Erica to give up. Keeley swallowed. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that when she got back Erica might be gone…
Positivity. Seasonal cheer. She couldn’t let any other thoughts appear on her face or manifest in her disposition. It was all about Erica today. She knocked on the door and got ready for all the sass and shade. She waited a beat for a response but, when one wasn’t forthcoming, she opened the door and stepped into the room.
Breath left her, almost audibly so, and Keeley was caught both trying to retract it and put a smile on her face at the same time. The mixed motion didn’t work and she coughed, almost choking on the dryness of her mouth. Erica looked terrible. Her Caribbean colouring was significantly depleted, her deep dark-brown eyes a lot more sunken into their sockets. Her eyes were barely open at all. Was she sleeping? Had the nurses upped her pain relief making her slip in and out of consciousness? No one had said anything when she had checked in at the desk. Then Erica turned her head, just a little, as if acknowledging Keeley was there.
‘Are… you sitting down… or what?’ It was pure Erica just on a much lesser level.
‘Yes,’ Keeley said quickly, stepping forward. She slipped the crisps back into her bag. She wasn’t sure something so sharp and spiky was quite the right food source for someone in Erica’s condition. ‘And I have a surprise.’ She brandished the photo of Nick Jonas in the glitzy frame Rach had given her. Rach had actually given her a pack of five that Adie was selling at the discount shop and Keeley hadn’t had the energy to refuse the bulk buy.
‘Sweet,’ Erica mouthed, drawing fragile fingers up to clutch the picture, a small smile on her lips. ‘Man, he looks hot in that photo.’
‘Shall I put it on your dresser?’ Keeley offered, about to take the frame back.
‘Not until I’ve held him a bit longer and… you know… imagined all the dirty.’
Keeley smiled as she remembered a similar interaction with Bea over Timothée Chalamet. They had planned to watch Little Women together. ‘How are you today?’ She settled into the chair.
‘Still dying,’ Erica replied.
‘Still living actually,’ Keeley reminded, upbeat.
‘If living is puking into a cardboard bowl, sucking water off a lollipop sponge and talking to a shitty painting of a poodle.’
‘See!’ Keeley announced. ‘I’ve cheered you up already.’
‘I’ve called the big one Henry by the way,’ Erica announced, taking a long slow breath as if summoning up stores of strength from a back-up life generator.
‘Who?’ Keeley asked.
‘The big shitty dog in the painting! Keep with it!’
‘Oh,’ Keeley replied, looking to the awful picture. Perhaps she should take it down and put the Nick Jonas one there instead. Except Erica seemed to be hugging that one to her like it might be the man himself…