“You were quite right,” she said, ushering us towards a table laden with lots of appetizing little nibbles.

Marie’s father joined us at the table. He was dressed like a duke and he crossed his legs in a very posh way.

“So, Victor, you’re in the same class as Marie, I believe?”

“Yes, that’s right, in the same class though not in the same league.”

They smiled and that was a good start. I bit into something small and round. It was very hard.

“Excuse me, Victor, I think you need to take it out of the shell first,” explained Marie’s mother, very kindly, handing me some special tweezers.

“Do you enjoy your schoolwork?” Marie’s father asked me.

I thought for a moment. Marie’s parents were smiling at me in a very friendly way. I noticed that Marie’s lips were just like her mother’s.

“I’ve got nothing against it, if you know what I mean. It’s schoolwork that’s got something against me.”

“Did you know that Einstein only began speaking when he was five and before then everyone thought he had learning difficulties?”

“He was lucky. In my case, that was just the age that I began to have difficulties. Before then, everyone left me in peace.”

Marie’s mother went back and forth to the kitchen. She walked in a graceful, refined way. What a supersonically stylish environment. If you could see me now, Dad, I said to myself, you wouldn’t believe it!

“Are you a musician too, perhaps?” asked Marie’s father.

“Not at all, Monsieur. I’ve never been able to tell the difference between a symphony and a car crash. My father paid for me to have piano lessons when I was younger, and frankly, if you want my opinion, it was money down the drain.”

“Victor says that, but actually…” Marie interrupted.

My ears began to ring. She was looking at me. I shut my eyes and held my breath, as if I was facing a firing squad.

“… He’s a real music lover. He knows how to listen properly and he makes very sensitive judgements.”

I turned scarlet, partly because of my secret about The Rattletraps, but mostly because of the compliment.

“Do you know that at the end of the year our daughter’s going to audition for a very prestigious music school? We’re very happy for her, it’s going to be a turning point in her life, isn’t that so, Marie?”

She smiled at her father and then looked straight at me. It was as though we were bound together by the secret we shared.

“It’ll be ready in five minutes,” said Marie’s mother, sitting back down again.

Just as well, I thought. The lasagne would give me confidence. I always need to fill my belly before I can relax.

On the table, around the plates, there was so much cutlery that it looked as though the knives and forks had been busy making babies. There were pink napkins in the glasses, folded in the shape of birds with their wings spread open. I was impressed by how elegant it all was.