In the playground, I spotted Etienne and Marcel. They were both playing right wing, because they were both left-footed. They were brothers, and I’d started calling them “the Metro” when I learned that there’s a Metro station in Paris called “Etienne Marcel”. They played bass guitar and drum extremely badly but I wasn’t very picky about performance quality and I’d allowed them to join the band. To celebrate the band’s birth, we’d cracked a bottle of apple juice over the old electric guitar that Dad had bought me. He’d suggested a brilliant name for us, “The Rattletraps”. What’s more he’d also given us permission to practise in the workshop at the back of the yard. I don’t know what gave him the idea of the name “The Rattletraps”, and I did wonder whether it was much of a compliment to our performances, but anyway… One day we’d given our music teacher a demo of our best pieces. He appreciated our efforts, but he said there was a technical problem, because all he could hear was metal being hit and whooshing sounds.

“It’s odd,” he said, a little awkwardly, “it sounds like you recorded it in … a blacksmith’s forge … or … on an airport runway!”

We took back the tape and we never forgave him after that, because artists are sensitive.

Just before the bell rang, I asked Etienne and Marcel what they thought about my predicament. Obviously, I avoided telling them that Marie was undoubtedly behind the whole thing, because I already felt enough of a fool. Etienne suggested that I should actually become the Escape Artist that the Honourable Egyptian had talked about and continue to cheat to maintain the high standard I’d reached.

“That’s impossible, I’m too dumb to cheat properly. I tried last year and it was a total failure. I got a detention and I had to clean all the school toilets. So no thanks. And anyway I’ve got principles. Haven’t you?”

“No.”

Marcel raised his eyes to the sky and recommended quite simply that I work hard enough to succeed honestly. Of course, when I was thinking things over on the toilet, I’d also considered this option.

“I’m too far behind. However hard I try, I just get into a complete muddle. For example, this morning’s biology lesson with those wrinkled peas and smooth peas that show whatever it is they show – if I go over it again this evening, I’m sure I won’t understand a thing!”

“All great rock musicians are famous for having disastrous school careers,” said Etienne, pompously.

There was a long respectful silence.

“And you are a great rock musician,” he added as an afterthought.

After school, I warned Haisam that I wouldn’t be coming to watch them play chess, because there was something more urgent I needed to do.