Madame by Tim Taylor
“ Attention madame, attendez, attendez!” Jocasta stopped walking and turned to see a man running after her, trying to attract her attention. He was fifty-ish, dressed in a cream polo shirt, blue jeans and a shabby brown jacket. Whoever said the French have a great sense of style had obviously never been to this dull little town. The man reached her, slightly out of breath. She hoped he didn’t want to sell her anything. “ Excusez-moi, madame, mais vous avez laisse votre sac à main dans la voiture. Il faut etre prudente dans cette ville. Il y a des voleurs.” “I’m sorry. Can you speak English?” The man’s face puckered as if he were trying to find something in a very deep pocket. Then he composed himself before speaking. “Madam. You leaved your sack in the automobile.” ‘Leaved’ – oh, that was so sweet, especially in that lovely sing-song accent. Jocasta didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. ...