Ah. I see! We’ll have to find him a boyfriend…
I shake my head. She knew straight away what ‘not his type’ meant. He did say he had feelings for someone though. I wonder who it is?
23
After closing up for a few days, I take my usual route wandering through Montmartre, coming to Rue de l’Abreuvoir, one of the most picturesque streets in Paris. It’s home of the pretty pink restaurant La Masion Rose. Along the curve of the cobblestoned street, ivy cascades down walled fences, giving the space an almost fairytale feel. It’s one of the most photographed places in Paris and it’s easy to see why.
I continue down to Place Dalida, the square that holds Buste Dalida; a bronze bust of the famous French–Egyptian singer sits under the shade of a leafy tree. It’s believed if you rub the bust and make a wish, it will come true. It’s evident many visitors have made wishes as Dalida’s chest area is golden from these touches. I’ve never made a wish on Dalida before, although I’ve visited her many times. I take a quick look around before I touch the statue, close my eyes and make a wish:Help me find true love and let go of the past. There’s no guidebook for love. No easy way to trust in the process. A string of failed relationships dented my confidence in men. How can I successfully match for Paris Cupid but not for myself? I step back from Dalida’s bust, hoping she’ll grant my wish. As I turn, I hear a familiar voice callmy name. Colour races up my cheeks. Did he see me touching the bust of Dalida? How will I explain that away? Everyone in Montmartre knows this is a wishing spot usually associated with love.
Benoit jogs down the cobblestones, bag in his hand. By the time he gets to me, his cheeks are flushed and he’s out of breath. ‘Geneviève told me you walk this way home, but I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you in time.’
‘Is everything OK?’ I ask.
His face is pinched with worry. ‘Guillaume needs to speak with you.’
‘But he didn’t call…’ I slap my forehead. ‘I must have left my phone at Ephemera.’
‘You did but Geneviève had the spare keys to your stall and gave me your phone.’ He reaches in his satchel and pulls out my mobile. ‘Guillaume called a number of times so I answered it for you.’
‘Merci. What did Guillaume want?’ I ask.
Benoit takes deep inhalation as if he’s still trying to catch his breath from running to find me. ‘He was quite frantic, something about finding a cat who’s been hurt in a presumed cat fight. He’s at the vet right now.’
‘Merde!Minou? Is he all right?’ My heart plummets at the thought of him being seriously hurt and missing for all this time.
‘As far as I know the cat is being tended to. Guillaume is waiting for your call.’
Where did he find our little friend? I pull up his number and dial. It rings and rings, my heart rate increasing each time as I imagine the worst about the tabby cat. When he finally accepts the call, I blurt, ‘Guillaume, it’s Lilou. How is he?’
There’s a shuffling sound as if he’s looking for somewhere private to speak. ‘Lilou, how are you without your phoneagain?I’m going to buy some super glue and have it bonded to your hand!’
While his voice is gruff, there’s a slight wobble to it. ‘Guillaume, I know, I know. How is Minou? Is he going to be OK?’
‘A little worse for wear but he will survive. I found him by the cemetery gates in a heap and I tell you, Lilou, my heart almost broke until I saw him move. I’ve never run so fast in all my life to get a taxi and get him help. After assessing him, the vet is of the opinion that there’s been some sort of cat fight for dominance. He’s suffered a fair bit, lost a couple of claws, has some deep scratches, is dehydrated and malnourished. The vet has put him on a drip and has tended to the wounds. There’s a range of medication that needs to be administered twice a day, but the thing is, Lilou, I’m off to Roeun tomorrow on a buying trip, so I won’t be able to give him the medicine.’
I exhale all the angst, all the worry, and focus on the fact that Minou’s going to get better. ‘Right, right. I understand. But Guillaume, if there’s some sort of fight for king of the jungle, won’t it happen again once Minou is better? What does the vet say about that?’
He lets out a frustrated sigh. ‘Oui, the vet says for his safety it’s best if he finds a permanent home. I’d take him, but I’m often away for work. What can we do, Lilou? I really don’t think it’s safe for Minou to return to the cemetery, and right now he’s going to need a lot of love and attention while he heals.’
There’s no question in my mind. ‘I’ll take him. He can live with me. Unless… you’d like to share him? We can be co-parents.’
He coughs as if clearing his throat, then his voice comes back thick. ‘I’d love that, Lilou. I really would. I only hope that Minou is amenable to the idea.’
I laugh. ‘Why wouldn’t he be? Fresh fish every day and two people who adore him. He can recuperate and I can administer the medication and he’ll have plenty of time to rest.’
‘The vet believes Minou once had a home because he’s been neutered and knows how to use a litter tray.’
‘Wow. He must have escaped or got lost at some point?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t have a chip implanted so there’s no chance of finding former owners.’
‘That’s OK, he has us now.’
How hard can being a cat parent be? It’s not like being a dog owner with all those daily walks. This should be a breeze, especially if the both of us are sharing the care.
Guillaume sniffles down the line. Maybe it’ll be good for all of us, not just Minou. ‘You’re right. He’ll live in the lap of luxury for the rest of his life.’
‘Where are you? Shall I come and meet you there? How long will he need to stay at the vet?’
