the stakes seemed just too high. I’ve seen what the price of love can be and I decided that it was too high to risk having to pay. So I’ve always protected myself from it. I haven’t dared to risk loving my father, my step-family, my friends. And Thierry. I have kept my heart locked away to protect it. But now I have been shown the truth. Claire and Vivi are not just faces in a photograph any more, they are a part of me. I owe it to them to tap into the legacy of courage that runs through my veins. They have given me the gift of life. Until now, I have allowed the legacy of trauma to imprison my spirit. But through hearing their story, I know that I am strong enough to turn away from it. I won’t let the darkness win. I will turn my face towards the light. And, just maybe, I’ll be able to love as open-heartedly as they did.
As I reach for my phone, the charms on my bracelet clink against each other, making a sound like a faint, triumphant round of applause. There’s a message I need to send and I don’t want to waste another moment before I do so.
I scroll through my contacts and I select Thierry’s number.
Thierry’s apartment is a tiny studio in the Marais. It’s only one room, but the magical thing about it is that it opens on to a narrow balcony where there’s just enough space for two chairs, side by side. We’ve sat here for hours, and I’ve talked more than I think I’ve ever done before. We’ve agreed to take it slowly – neither of us wants to get hurt and I know that my pulling away from him before has left him cautious. But he’s prepared to give it another go, and I sense that this time the connection is stronger than ever, on both sides of the relationship.
As Thierry goes inside to fetch glasses and a bottle of wine, my phone rings. Loath to spoil the peace of the moment, I’m about to switch it off when I see that the caller is Sophie Rousseau, from the Palais Galliera.
‘Hello?’ I say, tentatively.
Her voice is warm as she tells me that she wanted to be the first to congratulate me: I’ve got the job.
When Thierry returns, I am on my feet, looking out across the city. Darkness is falling and the lights of the city begin to twinkle, sequins on a black velvet robe. They call it the City of Light. And now I can also call it my home.
We go out that weekend to celebrate, meeting Simone and the rest of the crowd in the same basement bar where Thierry and I first met. There’s music and friendship and many, many drinks to toast my new career. And Thierry and I hold hands under the table, not wanting to let go for a moment now that we’ve found each other.
At the end of the evening, we decide to walk back to the apartment in the Rue Cardinale with Simone. We say goodnight to the others and the three of us begin to wander slowly homewards. Simone hangs back a little, giving me and Thierry space to walk on ahead. I love the feeling of being close to him, his arm wrapped around my waist. I turn to glance back and see Simone is rooting in her handbag for something. She pulls out a pair of earphones and waves them at me triumphantly, then begins to walk again, still a few yards back, listening to her music.
I hear the faint wail of sirens behind us and turn to see the flicker of blue lights in the distance. They are approaching fast, speeding along the street as they chase a white van, herding it towards us. Simone, still wired to her music, is oblivious and she smiles at me enquiringly. Thinking I am waiting for her to catch up, she good-naturedly waves her hands, shooing me on ahead. But the van is speeding towards her, the driver losing control. The lights of the police car are gaining on it, engulfing the white sides of the van in their blue flames as it draws alongside, trying to force the driver to pull over. Time seems to stand still as the van swerves and mounts the pavement behind Simone.
Without thinking, I run.
I run towards the blue lights, towards Simone, who has stopped, frozen, as the