French Kiss (17 page)

            “Just like Jean?” Charlotte said.

            “Like Jean,” he admitted. “But without the pretentious, evil gene.”

            “At least you're not pretending that you never loved her.”

            “I loved her very much once,” Gilou said.

            “Alright, don't rub it in.”

            They laughed.

            “I'm sorry,” Gilou said.

            “I'm going to forgive you,” Charlotte said. “But I'm going to make you suffer some more first.”

            “Okay.”

            “I want you to tell me truth. Always. No secrets.”

            “Yes.”

            “And I want you to keep apologising.”

            “I'm sorry.”

            A announcement came over the tannoy in English. The speaker sounded frustrated.

            “This is a call for Passenger Cross. Could Passenger Cross immediately go through security and make your way to departure gate A. Your flight has boarded and is ready to leave.”

            “Will you stay in France, with me?” Gilou asked.     

            “Let's slip away quietly,” Charlotte said.

            “So I don't have to finish this?” Gilou removed a soggy morsel of boarding pass from one cheek.

            “That,” she said, “is disgusting.”

            Outside, walking through the car park to Gilou's 4x4, Charlotte said: “And under no circumstances will you offer me my old job back. I won't accept charity, but I will accept help filling out applications.”

            “The women in the mairie will help you. No, really, they will. I'll see to it.”

            “Why did you ever sack me? I was doing a brilliant job.”

            “I saw you in the shed,” Gilou told her. “You were crying. I couldn't see you like that. And so I sent you away. But now I know that I can't be without you.

            “And what if it doesn't work out between us?”

            “Of course it won't work,” he said. “But we will have tried.”

            “René,” she said. “Kiss me.”

            “Of course.”