Free Bye Bye Love by Patricia Burns

Scarlett and Jonathan saved their loudest cheers for The Kursaal Flyer , a life-sized model railway engine like something out of a western, with smoke coming out of its chimney and organ music blaring from its cab.
    ‘Even better than it was before the war,’ the family behind Jonathan and Scarlett declared.
    Everyone around them agreed. Things were looking up, the war and austerity were behind them. The New Elizabethan age was starting with peace and prosperity in store.
    ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ Jonathan said as they wandered homeward hand in hand through the crowds thronging the gardens.
    ‘Marvellous! All those costumes—I’d love to take part. Perhaps we should join one of the clubs, you know, tennis or something. It’d be fun anyway, and we’d have the chance of going in the carnival.’
    ‘Yes…’ Jonathan said, guilt once more flooding through him. He’d put it out of his head while they’d been watching the procession, but now it came back with full force. He couldn’t deliberately string her along. Now was the moment. ‘Look…er…Scarlett, there’s something I have to tell you…’
    She stopped short in the middle of the path so that the people behind nearly crashed into them.
    ‘What? What is it?’
    Her eyes were wide with alarm, her face pale. Jonathan realised that, just as he was tuned to her every mood, so she had picked up his anxiety from his tone.
    People were walking round them, grumbling. Jonathan grabbed Scarlett’s arm and steered them off the path, scrambling up the steep slope between some trees till they got to a quieter spot.
    ‘Well?’ Scarlett said.
    It had all seemed much easier when he’d planned it in his head. Actually saying it was different.
    ‘I…well…I got a letter from Tante Jeanne-Marie the other day…’
    ‘Yes, yes, you said.’
    ‘And…well, you know how her brother’s got a restaurant—’
    She was already one step ahead of him.
    ‘You’re going to go and work there? You’re leaving?’
    She looked horrified. Worse than that, there was accusation in her eyes. How could he say he cared for her and yet do this?
    ‘Not there—that’s just it—’
    If it had just been Uncle Michel’s restaurant, he would have put it off, just to be with her for longer. But this—this was different.
    ‘You see, Uncle Michel trained in Paris, at L’Ortolan d’Or. It’s really famous, one of the top places. And the head chef there, the one he worked under, came to eat at his restaurant last week and afterwards they got talking and Uncle Michel mentioned me and they have a place coming up in the autumn when someone leaves and…well…’
    ‘You want to go,’ Scarlett stated, her voice flat.
    All the animation had fled from her face. It was as if a light had gone out. Jonathan felt terrible.

    ‘It’s only for a trial period to start with, but it’s such an amazing opportunity.’ He struggled to explain. ‘A top Paris restaurant. Any French boy my age who wanted to be a chef would kill to get in there. I’d be the only English boy they’ve ever taken. I mean, I don’t know what Uncle Michel said to convince them. Perhaps he made them feel sorry for me, you know, marooned here amongst all our dire English food and that—’
    ‘Oh, yes, well that’s so dreadful, isn’t it?’ Scarlett flared. ‘Poor old you, having to eat English food! So you’re going to go to Paris and leave me here in your horrible pub with your horrible mother and father, are you? Well, thank you very much!’
    ‘It’s not horrible! How can you say that?’ Jonathan responded, automatically coming to the defence of his home and family.
    ‘It is, and they are. Your mother hates me, and I hate her, the evil old bag. She looks at me like I’m dirt under her shoe, and we have to live in those poky rooms and share that disgusting bathroom. It’s all right for you—you have your nice flat at the front. Round the back it’s damp and mouldy and dark and I’m not supposed