Free The French Promise by Fiona McIntosh Page A

optimism of all the exhibits they had seen over the day that prompteda change of thinking.
    It was a moment of epiphany when he stopped where he stood and realised that life was somehow about to change for him because of today. He didn’t know how, but it would. And the notion excited him.
    He stood by a pillar, his gaze latched onto a poster of a ship, and his mind wandered to how it might feel to sail away to exotic ports. Naturally the first destination in mindwas France, but he knew he wasn’t ready to go back there to live. But filtering through his daydream was the nagging realisation that until he changed his life – that is, until he
personally
adjusted his approach – nothing about his future would alter. And wasn’t the Festival of Britain all about progress and the promise of a bright future?
    The notion of transformation fizzed aroundLuc’s mind like champagne bubbles.
    When Lisette found him, he was standing in front of the poster, staring hard, a small piece of paper in his hand.
    ‘Luc? What is it, darling?’
    He blinked. ‘What?’
    ‘Where were you just now?’ she asked, smiling tentatively. She glanced at the poster. ‘Sailing away somewhere?’
    He grinned, crumpled the paper and put it into his overcoat pocket. ‘Thinking about takingyou on the Big Dipper to hear you scream,’ he said, widening his eyes with wicked pleasure.
    ‘You forget I’ve parachuted from a plane at night, so no Big Dipper scares me,’ she said, digging him in the ribs. ‘Come on, I have to get to the interiors exhibit by
Homes & Antiques
magazine. Apparently there’s this kitchen that is meant to bring a woman into the social life of the house without interruptingher work,’ she quoted verbatim, eyes sparkling.
    ‘Imagine that,’ he replied.
    ‘Oh, come on. I want to see the all the furniture. Someone’s just told me there’s a bright red sofa!’
    He pretended to shiver in anticipation. And she laughed. ‘Would you rather go to the circus?’
    ‘Why wouldn’t you, is more to the point?’
    She considered it and grinned. ‘Actually, I would. Come on. BillyManning’s Circus, John Collins’ Big Dipper and perhaps an ice cream before dinner and then dancing beneath the stars.’
    ‘I’m exhausted just listening to you.’
    The afternoon soon slipped into evening, which eased into night, and everyone – not just Luc and Lisette – stopped to watch all the lights come on. After years of blackouts, both here and in Europe, it felt other-worldly to see a canopy oftwinkling fairy lights and bigger streetlights illuminating London’s roads in such dashing style. Such glorious indulgence had not been seen for many years and the sense of plenty began to infuse through the crowds, who spontaneously burst into dance whenever music was heard. It was comical to watch people in their overcoats twirling around but the exuberance was infectious and delicious.
    ‘I loveyou, Luc,’ Lisette said after they finally sat down on a bench, exhausted. ‘Thank you for this.’
    ‘Oh, the best is yet to come. Come on,’ he said, picking up their small holdall. ‘Let’s go to our hotel.’
    ‘Where?’ she said, full of intrigue.
    ‘Do you remember the Imperial you told me about – the one you used on your mock mission for Special Ops?’
    ‘You haven’t!’ she said, laughing.
    ‘In the spiritof going forward but not forgetting our past, I thought you’d enjoy seeing it again. Tomorrow morning after breakfast you can walk me through the streets you knew before we met. Show me the flat at Ecclestone Road; show me the Lyons Corner House tea rooms. I want to see it all … we never did get to do that last time in London.’
    ‘No, because my head had been shaved by the Parisians for being aNazi whore,’ she reminded him. Luc could still hear the hurt she hid over that traumatic episode during the liberation of Paris. ‘I’d love you to see London – I’ll show you Nelson’s Column and Buckingham Palace, the