Paris Interlude

SALLY flung the window open and breathed in the cool, crisp evening air. She still couldn’t believe she was really in Paris, the city of her dreams. When she’d entered the painting competition, with its first prize of a three-month painting course in Paris, she’d never expected to win, but she did, and here she was.

Her home in Durban seemed so far away and she had to keep pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Her accommodation for the three months was in a pension, a boarding house, run by a motherly French lady who’d taken her under her wing.

Sally had attended her first painting class earlier that morning. The course was held at the college not far from her accommodation. She knew immediately that she’d enjoy the course. The tutor, a French lady who spoke excellent English, was patient and very knowledgeable.

The other students seemed