BooksBarbecue
Back Dangerous Remedy
Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Paris, June 1794
  8. PART ONE
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. PART TWO
  17. 1
  18. 2
  19. 3
  20. 4
  21. 5
  22. 6
  23. 7
  24. 8
  25. 9
  26. 10
  27. 11
  28. 12
  29. PART THREE
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. PART FOUR
  48. 1
  49. 2
  50. 3
  51. 4
  52. 5
  53. 6
  54. 7
  55. 8
  56. 9
  57. 10
  58. 11
  59. PART FIVE
  60. 1
  61. 2
  62. 3
  63. 4
  64. 5
  65. 6
  66. 7
  67. PART SIX
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. 12
  80. 13
  81. 14
  82. Postscript
  83. A Ship in Le Havre Port
  84. Acknowledgements
  85. About the Author
  86. About Zephyr

‘I’m coming back. I promise.’

‘You’ve made a lot of promises.’

‘And I’m going to keep them. I’ll find Olympe and come home.’

Ada rested her forehead against Camille’s. ‘I trust you, Camille Laroche.’

Camille smiled and took a step back, letting their hands part.

‘I trust you, Ada Rousset.’

With a final goodbye to the battalion, Ada fixed her hat again and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. The weather was as unforgivingly bright and clear as it had been all day. She let herself out onto the street and headed up the quay towards the Marais to look for her father.

It was time to make her choice.

Postscript

A Ship in Le Havre Port

28 Prairial Year II

The creak and groan of wood and ropes lulled Camille as the ship pulled out of the harbour. She wore a heavy travelling cloak over her sprigged muslin dress; it might have been the height of summer, but grey clouds lowered over the Breton coast and a chill wind whipped the waves. Another bad harvest to come.

Wearing his own thick cloak, Al joined her, leaning against the stern. He was dressed simply too, as unassuming as he would allow. They’d walked through every daylight hour to reach the coast, then stopped at a market town to buy a change of clothes and pick up information about any ships sailing out of port. The war made it tricky but not impossible, with the combination of Al’s smooth talking and Camille’s well-placed threats, to find a ship that would take them.

‘Come on.’ Al touched her shoulder gently. ‘Let’s take a turn.’

He offered his arm, and together they made a slow damp circuit of the deck of the sloop.

Few other passengers were visible; it wasn’t a pleasure cruiser but a trading vessel that dropped its colours as soon as it was out of sight of the coast. Some of the sailors didn’t like the idea of a woman on board, superstitious as they were. Al had to laugh it off on her behalf, while giving her a prod to warn her to drop her snarl.

As they passed the prow, Camille tugged out of his grasp and went to stand with her face in the wind. The Channel spread out before her, the North Sea some way to the right and the Atlantic to the left. But they were going straight ahead. Across the Channel to England, as she had countless times as a girl when her family visited James’s.

‘When I saw my mother die,’ she said into the wind, ‘they held her face up to the crowd. They do that with every head, I know, but it felt like a hunter brandishing some strange trophy.’

Al settled in beside her, his forearms on the rail.