A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,42

no immediate answer from the FaceTime in the UK and she wondered if the connection might have been lost. She didn’t want to move the phone to disturb the view if not though.

‘Erica?’ Keeley queried. She hadn’t collapsed or anything, had she?

‘I… can’t believe you’ve done this for me.’

Erica’s voice sounded so emotional it caught Keeley in a tender spot that straightaway caused her eyes to tear up. She swallowed the emotion back and took a glance over her shoulder. Rach was busy snapping pics and Noel had some kind of iPad he was tapping away at.

‘I said I would,’ Keeley said, moving the phone a little to capture as much of the ambience as possible. And she had said she would because this was her chance to be there. To hold Erica as she fell.

‘I know you said you would. But I told you, my whole life, people have said shit like that to me all the time and they haven’t meant it.’

‘I mean it,’ Keeley said, tears pricking her eyes.

She could admit it to herself that when she first met Erica at the hospital she had seen taking her under her wing and supporting her through her treatment as trying to make up for feeling there was more she could have done for Bea. That fateful Saturday night out – a few bars, a band, the taxi that never reached home – it had all been Keeley’s idea. And she did blame herself. What if they hadn’t gone out? What if they had gone somewhere else? Why hadn’t they got the Tube? It didn’t matter how many times Keeley told herself – or the counsellor reassured her – that those thoughts weren’t logical and were in fact unhelpful in terms of her recovery – it didn’t stop the mindset arriving now and then. Erica, she had a spark about her, just like Bea had. Both women had a complete and content vision of their place in the world and a fierce nature that everyone else should accept it. But Erica was Erica. A one off. Not Bea. Instead, Erica was someone who had saved Keeley. With her uncomplicated friendship even amid her medical struggles, Erica had been there when everyone else in Keeley’s life thought perhaps the path to recovery had already been fully travelled.

Keeley took a breath and smiled to herself. ‘All in, remember? Every time.’

‘OK, so, flip the view around, I want to see your face.’

‘The Paris scenery is much better than my face,’ Keeley insisted. ‘It’s cold here and windy and my hair is still leaking. I think the dye might have even stained the tiles of the shower in the plush bathroom we have at the hotel.’

‘Let me see you, man!’

Keeley pressed the screen of her phone and greeted a smiling Erica. She didn’t look too bad today. Yes, her skin had taken on a bit of a waxy sheen, but her eyes were animated, focused. She looked better than when Keeley had last seen her just before she travelled here.

‘You look different,’ Erica announced.

‘What?’

‘You don’t look weighted down and you’re smiling.’

‘I… don’t know what to say to that,’ Keeley answered.

‘Meeting that woman whose kid gave you the kidney has worked a makeover miracle.’

‘Well,’ Keeley began, ‘I haven’t actually met her yet.’

‘What?’

Keeley drew in a breath and walked slowly to another section of the rooftop. There were other tourists here, all wrapped in thick coats, taking pictures, some on fully guided tours. Noel had given them lots of information of the history of the landmark while they admired the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at ground level until Rach had said he was overdoing the dates and details a little. Rach’s idea of a tour was more finger-pointing and finding out what celebrity had visited than it was delving into the archives of yesteryear.

‘I thought we were meeting her yesterday, for afternoon tea, but that was apparently a treat for us on our arrival. And then this morning, when we were at breakfast, this tour guide turns up and says that Madame Durand has asked him to show us some of the Paris sights today.’

‘That’s weird as shit,’ Erica offered.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Keeley sighed. ‘She brought me here. She said she wanted to meet me and now… it’s a little bit like she’s hiding from me.’

‘Maybe she is,’ Erica suggested.

‘Well, why would she do that? She was the one who wanted this.’

‘I don’t know. Because, like, she’s scared? Because she’s got you in