by Gill James
“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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