A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,71
cannot sit here and just do nothing. I cannot. There must be something we can do. There must be. Where is it injured? There is no blood we can see… there is nothing. Perhaps it is in shock. Where is the car that has hit it? Did they just drive away?’ He reached out to the animal.
‘No,’ Keeley ordered, her chest tightening in response to the sentiment in his statement. ‘Really, Ethan, stop.’ She swallowed as he settled next to her again. ‘Just stop and… wait and… just be here.’
*
The street-girl who had taken chocolates from the Christmas tree at his hotel yesterday was crying like she was about to lose a parent rather than a probably flea-ridden mongrel with unravelling rope for a lead. But the sound was scratching at his heart.
‘There’s a good boy,’ Keeley whispered to the dog, her hand gently stroking its fur. ‘You’re such a good boy.’
‘Good boy… Bo-Bo. Be strong. You can do it. I… love you so much.’
The girl wasn’t so tough after all and Ethan watched the tears spilling from her eyes like water from a fountain in Place de la Concorde. He didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t look at the girl anymore. He didn’t want to look at the ailing dog. So instead he focused on Keeley and the gentle words falling from her lips that were meant to comfort and soothe.
Across the street a few people had gathered and were watching their odd group circled around the pet in the centre of the road. Where was that vet?
Thirty-One
Un Petit Café, Tour Eiffel, Paris
The boulangerie-cum-café was a little like Ollivander’s shop from Harry Potter, but instead of boxes of magic wands, there were baskets and display cases filled with baguettes, croissants, madeleines and other sweet and savoury delights. Steam from the coffee machines and griddles was rising into the warm air misting up the windows that held a menagerie of quaint festive decorations – golden wire balls and small silver fir cones joined together by rustic rope. The eatery was starting to get busy as the morning took hold and Keeley could only imagine what an odd threesome they made to onlookers.
Ethan had taken charge when the vet had arrived. With the girl still sobbing, he had explained what they believed to have happened and the vet administered some medication that sent Bo-Bo to sleep. Unconsciousness and easier breathing. Not death. Although it took a few minutes, after the vet’s gentle examination of the pet, for the girl to be convinced that the man’s intention was preservation. And now, with Bo-Bo off to the surgery, they had come here to keep warm and wait for more information before deciding what to do next. A large plate of pancakes with bacon and a huge serving of mushrooms was keeping the girl from crying or actually saying anything at all.
‘You are OK?’ Ethan asked Keeley.
She had already drunk half her cup of coffee, relishing the way it was warming her up. Her ribs were also a little thankful that their jog had been cut short. ‘I’m OK.’
‘I am sorry that our run did not turn out the way we hoped it might.’ He sighed. ‘By that, I mean, that I had hoped I could show you a little more of the city and no one would get hurt.’
She looked at him. His hands were cupping his coffee, but he had not taken a sip of it. He still looked a little pale.
‘It’s OK,’ Keeley answered. ‘What else could we do but help?’ She indicated their café companion who was now squirting tomato ketchup all over everything on her plate.
Ethan leaned forward then. ‘What is your name?’
The girl looked up, chewing brutally. ‘I do not talk to strangers.’
‘How can I be a stranger?’ Ethan wanted to know. ‘We met yesterday and today I have bought you breakfast. I have also provided your animal with medical assistance.’
‘What is your name?’ the girl asked, shooting him a defiant look.
‘That is simple,’ Ethan said. ‘My name is Ethan Bouchard. Now, it is your turn.’
She paused, fork in mid-air, then said a curt, ‘Jeanne.’
‘And your last name?’
The girl shrugged her shoulders and carried on eating.
Keeley picked up the conversation, keeping her tone light. ‘Where do you live? Won’t your parents be worried about you? You were out very early in the morning on your own.’
‘Parents?! Ha!’ Jeanne laughed loud and nudged Ethan with her elbow. ‘She thinks… that people like us have parents.’