Yeah,’ I grinned, ‘So we can either go back to the shit palace we’ve been put up in, or see a bit of Parisian culture with a charming Frenchman....You in?’We took a taxi to the George Cinq.Elisabeth and Pierre were chatting. But it was all secondary, like background noise to the whirring thoughts being batted about in my mind.The joint and the champagne had me in a pleasingly spaced-out daze. Half cut, I stared out the cab window and watched the soft blur of buildings and passing Parisian traffic. She let go of them again, tryingto run the way she used to but the sway of her hips was too unnaturalcompared to what she was used to. We cheered her on for all we wereworth, squealing like a bunch of cheerleaders. The man had alreadyreached the end of the yard and was coming back. They passed each othermidway, with the bastard being cheeky enough to slap her on the rear ashe did. The race was over before Michelle had gotten halfway back. Sheswung her fist in the air and cursed, scuffing her. More

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