‘I can. Even in the dark, ugly people are still ugly. But it doesn’t matter, when you’re in the mood … Hey, the lady wants to talk to you.’

The receptionist was hanging back at a respectful distance, three steps away, trying to avoid interrupting their conversation.

‘We’ve found your cat.’

Marc stood up and followed the young woman, whose slight limp stirred him unexpectedly. She led him into the laundry room, where he found Boudu nestling against the attendant’s ample bosom.

‘He was tangled up inside a pillowcase.’

‘A pillowcase?’

‘Yes. I don’t know how he got in there. Looked as if he might’ve been shoved inside. He didn’t seem scared, he was just meowing quietly. He’s a cuddly little thing.’

‘Yes, very. Thank you very much, Madame. We must have left our door open and he seized his chance.’

Boudu passed from the laundress’s arms to Marc’s, purring all the while, eyes half closed.

‘I’ll take him upstairs. We’ll be more careful in future. Thanks again.’

Back in the room, Marc put Boudu down on Anne’s bed, but against all expectations, instead of continuing the slumber even his trip to the laundry room had not interrupted, the cat stretched out with a growl and went to sit on Marc’s bed instead. This unusual initiative, for an animal who normally displayed none, aroused a vague sense of suspicion in his master. Marc checked to see if there were any pillowcases missing. They were all present and correct. Relieved, he left the opened tin of salmon cat food near the cat and left the room.

The bed sighed as Anne threw herself on it with arms outspread. Marc staggered into the bathroom.

‘Oh look! The little fucker’s back!’

Sensing himself being talked about, Boudu raised an eyelid and pricked up his ears.

‘Where did you find him?’

‘In the laundry room.’

‘They found one in the laundry room of the hospital once, too. But after it had gone through the washing machine. It was at least twenty centimetres bigger.’

The cat arched his back as Anne persisted in stroking him, before jumping off Marc’s bed to rub against her.

‘He really is thick, this cat. Marc?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you pissed?’

‘A bit.’

‘Me too. I like it. Did you ring Chloé?’

‘Yes, of course. She sends her love.’

‘Liar.’

Marc got up in the night. He was cold. Anne and Boudu had synchronised their snoring so effectively he felt as if he were lying in a ship’s cabin next to the engine room. As he searched the wardrobe for a blanket, he saw that of the two spare pillows, one was missing a case.