Nothing. Marc banged the tin.

‘Boudu? … Boudu?’

He looked under the beds and pillows, inside the wardrobe, on the balcony – not a whisper of a cat. Marc knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Anne?’

‘Yes?’

‘Boudu’s not in there with you, is he?’

‘No.’

‘He’s not in the room.’

‘Oh.’

‘You didn’t leave the door open, did you?’

‘No. Oh, yes! Before I came downstairs. I’d forgotten my cigarettes.’

‘He must have snuck out.’

‘Yes. He can’t have gone far.’

‘No. I’ll call down to reception, ask them to keep an eye out.’

It wasn’t the end of the world – the cat would be prowling round the hotel somewhere – but Marc was nonetheless annoyed. There was a strong fishy smell coming from the open tin. He closed it and slipped it back inside the Monoprix bag.

Anne was wearing a dress bought that morning, in a fuchsia pink so vivid it remained imprinted on the retina long after you had stopped looking at it.

‘What do you think?’

‘Dazzling.’

As they emerged from the lift, a couple hesitated to step inside, choked by the perfume in which Anne had doused herself.

‘Go and sit down, Anne. I’ll just let reception know about Boudu and I’ll come and find you.’

As he headed towards the entrance hall, Marc found himself irresistibly drawn towards the door. It was as if an invisible hand were pushing him while a voice whispered ‘Get out! Run while you can! Leave, get in your car and keep driving, don’t stop.’

Of course, he did not act upon this. There wasn’t any sense in it. And yet, as he told the receptionist about the missing cat, he was sure he had just missed the opportunity of a lifetime.

Anne was munching through the crudités, Marc was carefully dissecting his sole and the bottle of white wine was half empty.

‘What do you think of Désiré?’

‘I told you, he seems nice.’

‘To look at, I mean.’

‘He’s a good-looking young man.’

‘I want to have sex with him.’

‘Slow down a bit. Don’t you think you’d better ask him first?’

‘Why would he turn me down? I’m pretty now, aren’t I?’

‘Very, but … It doesn’t work like that. You need to give it time.’

‘Do you know how long it’s been since I had sex?’

Marc did not reply.

‘You don’t care.’

‘No, I understand, it’s just …’

‘What about you? When did you last get laid?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Two days? Two months? Two years?’

‘I don’t know, Anne! Can we talk about something else?’

‘It’s been three years for me. It was with a nurse. He was fired. Karl, his name was Karl, or Charles … I can’t remember. He had a face like the back end of a bus, but a lovely, bright-red cock.’

‘Please, Anne.’

‘Yes, he was ugly, but I wanted him so badly … Have you ever done it with someone hideous?’

‘Probably. I can’t remember.’