They arranged to meet outside the mairie, where the brightly flowering baskets hung frothy with bumble bees.
She watched the council officials come and go, the men in their shiny suits, the women with their coiffed, brittle hair and stiff, painted smiles.
As the town hall clock chimed twelve she sat outside a cafe in the square, fingers tapping between the checked tablecloth and her cafe creme.
When she heard the sing-song siren she just smiled, standing ready for the gendarme to handcuff her.
They’d almost made it too.