by Gill James
citron pressé
“It really is the best place to
be. Half way up you can’t see it.”
“It’s snowing
up here.”
“That’s the
Awful Tower for you.”
She pointed to
a Metro carriage crossing overhead. “Look, the underground.”
The cousin
looked puzzled.
“You must tell
your mother about our Metro,” she said to the cousin’s girl. The girl started
speaking in French to her English mother.
Not too
bright, the English. After all, they’d rejected her and Ivor and the baby when
they’d tried to live in England.
Still, she’d
won. France was the best place to be – despite the Awful Tower.
About the author
Gill writes short fiction and longer fiction She edits CafeLit. Find out more abut ehr and her books on her web site: http://www.gilljameswriter.eu/
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