off balance, broken trainers showing sock-covered feet with more than a few holes. Where was he running to? And why was Ethan making it his mission to chase after him? He was out of practice with real street running. The most he could manage these days was a few kilometres in the hotel’s gym and it was definitely showing now.
Instead of drawing the pursuit to an end he called out: ‘Stop that boy!’
Then, all at once, there were raised voices, cries and a large amount of decorated balls bounced onto the slushy pavement. Ethan tried to avoid them, still running on, until he got to the midst of the chaos. The boy had upended a small stall and its wares were on the ground, being trampled by people-traffic and rolling into the road. The boy was on the floor too, trying to backpedal his way out of trouble, his trainers slipping and sliding on the pavement as he attempted to scoot away at speed.
Ethan grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him onto his feet before he fell into the path of an oncoming cyclist.
‘Do not touch me!’ the boy hissed.
Something was a little off, but Ethan couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He held his hands up. ‘You took something from my hotel. And… I think I know what it was.’
‘I have nothing,’ the boy replied, walking away from the stall and its annoyed owner who was busy trying to pick up what was salvageable from his goods.
‘Hey,’ Ethan said, still following. ‘You are not in trouble. Not with me anyway. It is just… I think you only took chocolate from the tree and… if you need food then… I can get you some food.’
The boy faced him then, fierce attitude in the look. ‘Are you the police?’
‘No,’ Ethan replied, a bit softer. ‘I—’
‘Then I do not have to talk to you, or do anything you say.’ The boy turned away again, Ethan suspected ready to flee.
‘You are right,’ Ethan answered. ‘You do not have to talk to me or do anything you do not want to do. But maybe you would like a warm brioche and a hot chocolate or… anything you like.’
He watched for a tell-tale flicker of acknowledgement in the boy’s eyes. There was nothing. Until… there it was. Not in the boy’s expression, but instead in a quirk of his body. Hunger pangs. The mere mention of food and drink and your instincts gave you away.
‘Come on,’ Ethan said. ‘What have you got to lose?’ He knew he couldn’t push, just make a suggestion. But his heart rhythm was telling him he wanted the boy to accept his offer so much.
‘Hey! You there! You need to come back here and clear up this mess!’
It was the stallholder, the festive hat he was wearing at odds with the fierce look on his face. The expression was all anger and grumpy beard. Ethan knew what was going to happen now if he didn’t step in.
‘Listen,’ he began, addressing the man. ‘I will pay for any damage and…’
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy turn away and Ethan couldn’t help himself. He reached forward, intending to gently halt his progress. Instead, his fingers found the boy’s oversized beanie and, before he knew it, the hat had come off in his hands.
Ethan gasped, the stallholder gasped and traffic on the road next to them continued as if nothing had happened. Except something had happened. Ethan was holding onto the black woollen hat and he was staring at the small figure whose long dark hair had come tumbling out of its knitted captivity. He was not now looking at a boy… he was looking at a girl.
‘You’re a…’ Ethan said. ‘You’re a girl.’
‘And you,’ the girl retorted. ‘You are the real thief!’
She snatched the hat out of Ethan’s hands and before he could do or say anything else, she turned and sprinted away up the street into the crowds.
Twenty-Three
Café Marly, Paris
‘I have talked too much, I know I have.’ Silvie took a sip of her coffee.
Keeley smiled at the woman with real affection. As every moment of the past couple of hours had passed she had grown to like Silvie more and more. There was nothing not to like about her. She was kind and warm and she had put Keeley at immediate ease. Perhaps it was because she had been through a similar tragedy, but more maybe it was because they had Ferne as