'I still sympathise with them,' Gladys said. 'Those bombs will be falling on innocent women and children as well as on soldiers. The women and children are too often the real victims of war.'

She smiled and tugged at his hand, leading him across the Cours la Reine, then back along the river, toward where they had come from.

'Hey, Mike, do you really love me?'

'Sure, Gladys, you know I do.'

'Then how can you even think of giving me up? What kind of man are you?'

'What do you mean, Gladys?'

'Give me a reason for going back.'

'What reason?'

She sighed in exasperation. 'G.o.ddammit, Mike, you're dumb!'

'You think so?'

'Yeah.'

'Would you marry a dumb man?'

'Yeah.'

'And would you let him take you back to America?'

'Yes, dammit, I would. Have you just proposed to me?'

'I think so.'

'I accept. Yes, I do!'

She turned into him, her hair blown by the river's wind, and he kissed her, clung to her, choked up and inspired. Then she stepped away, gave him a smile, and raised his hand to her lips... But she didn't quite make it.

Before she could raise his hand, the river rushed up to swallow her. Bradley saw the geysering water, a flash of light, a stream of smoke; then heard the m.u.f.fled explosion, the car roaring past behind him, the shouting of drunken French youths. He glimpsed what he thought was a hand grenade falling toward him, then he was picked up and slammed down into silence.

The silence became a ringing a jarring sibilance in his ears. His lips were pressed to the pavement, so he rolled onto his back and saw Gladys covered in the blood that was spurting out of her head. He tried to sit up and collapsed, looked at Gladys, saw more blood, groaned aloud, not in pain, but in despair, then pa.s.sed out again.

He was awakened by the sound of a siren and the screeching of brakes. Then someone, speaking French, told him he was going to be okay and helped him sit upright.

They were rolling Gladys onto a stretcher and her head was all bandaged.

'Oh, G.o.d!' Bradley groaned.

He clambered to his feet, swayed dizzily, found his balance, then hurried forward as the men with the Red Cross armbands hoisted Gladys up on the stretcher to put her into the ambulance. Her head was bandaged, her leg was in a splint, and she was covered in blood.

'Jesus, no!' Bradley said, then reached out to touch her, but was foiled when the Red Cross men slid the stretcher into the ambulance. Bradley, shocked in more ways than one, started clambering up after her. When he was in the back, kneeling beside the stretcher, Gladys looked up and smiled at him.

'Hi, partner!' she said.

Bradley picked up her hand, pa.s.sionately kissed it, his tears flowing, then one of the medics clambered in beside him and said, speaking French-accented, but otherwise perfect, English, 'She'll be all right.'

'What?' Bradley asked, stupidly.

'She'll be all right,' the French medic repeated. He looked about eighteen years old and had the smile of an angel. 'She was struck on the temple with a piece of the exploding boulevard wall; she also fractured her leg. Apart from that, she's okay.'

Bradley looked down at Gladys. The bandage around her head was b.l.o.o.d.y and she was as white as the sheet they'd wrapped around her.

'But the blood...' he began, fascinated and frightened by the sight of it, though Gladys was smiling.

The medic slammed the ambulance door closed, then placed his hand on Bradley's shoulder. 'Steady on there,' he said. 'We're taking off. I don't want you to fall on her.' The ambulance roared into life and moved off with a jerk. The medic grinned and kept Bradley steady, then also studied the blood covering Gladys.

'She was struck on the temple with flying debris,' he explained. 'Such wounds always cause a lot of blood loss. But it's deceptive, believe me. She'll only need a few st.i.tches and then her head will be fine. As for the leg, it's only fractured. It will hurt, but it isn't serious. She'll be in hospital for a week or two, then she'll be up and about again. Meanwhile, let me apologise for the disgusting behaviour of my drunken countrymen.'

'Pardon?'