Below the surface of the city – and one of her passengers – lay far more interesting discoveries to be made…
BY LISA ALLEN
The coach creaked to a stop alongside an elegant tree-lined pavement. Laura gazed through its widescreen window, her heart tingling with excitement. It looked like a scene from a romantic movie.
Outside, the moon cast a bright spotlight over couples strolling past hand-in-hand sharing kisses, as flower sellers touted lipstick-red roses wrapped in pretty ribbon. Against an inky night sky, the Eiffel Tower glittered like magic.
The coach driver swivelled his grumpy face to Laura, seated behind him. She suddenly remembered the reason she was here – and it wasn’t to daydream about finding her movie-worthy “happily ever after”.
She had a job to do, and right now that was helping a coachload of tourists create their own romantic stories.
Quickly reaching for the microphone, Laura turned, rising up through a wave of animated voices.
“Well, here we are, ladies and gentlemen –” she elevated her voice with a smile reflecting theirs – “the city of love’s iconic destination! La Tour Eiffel!”
The atmosphere was palpable; a young couple at the back sharing a secret smile, an elderly couple gently clasping one another’s hand, rows of eager, shining eyes.
For a second, Laura couldn’t help but wish she was one of them. To be here with the love of her life creating treasured memories, instead of as a single-status coach tour guide.
Laura was yet to find The One; the man who could make her laugh until it hurt and set her heart dancing. But it didn’t stop her dreaming.
“Have your tickets ready when you join the queue.” She pointed towards the Eiffel Tower. “And most importantly, have a wonderful evening!”
The group rose from their seats gathering bags and coats, filing down the coach steps past Laura and the driver.
“Don’t forget,” Laura called after them, “return to the coach by midnight at the latest, or you may be travelling home by pumpkin!”
Ripples of laughter echoed as Laura and the driver stood alone on the coach.
“Right, I’m off to get some dinner –” he looked at Laura, shaking the keys – “so I’ll need to lock up.”
“I can’t stay on the coach?”
Laura’s face fell – she’d planned a few hours of quiet in the warm, luxury vehicle, having a nap and maybe reading a book. It was freezin
