At twenty-five, Rachel took French citizenship. He threw this big fuck-off party. Ophélie and her mother – a hardcore cheerleader for the National Front – had no reason now to put off the wedding. Algerian and German, maybe, but he’s French now and an engineer to boot, they told anyone who asked. Another party. Has to be said, Rachel and Ophélie had been together since they were kids and her mother Wenda had run Rachel out of the house enough times, but she saw him grow up to be serious and well-mannered. Besides, she couldn’t really complain, Rachel had blue eyes and blond hair, Ophélie was the one with dark hair and brown eyes. Rachel had inherited Papa’s German genes and Ophélie’s Russian blood did the rest. Their life was like some cheesy music box, all you had to do was turn the handle and it played. Half the time I was jealous of them, the other half I wanted to kill them just to put them out of their misery. To keep on good terms, I steered clear. Any time I went round their house, they’d flap around like there was a storm threatening the nest. Ophélie was always two steps ahead of me, going round afterwards to make sure nothing was missing.

After he got his citizenship, Rachel said, ‘I’m going to sort out your papers too, you can’t go on like this, like a free electron.’ I shrugged, ‘Whatever . . . do what you like.’ So he did. One day he shows up on the estate and gets me to sign some papers and a year later he shows up again and says, ‘Congratulations, you’re one of us now, your papers have come through.’ He said his boss pulled a few strings. He took me to dinner in some big fancy restaurant in Paris near Nation. It wasn’t to celebrate me getting my papers, it was to give me a lecture about all the responsibilities that went with it. So, as soon as I’d had dessert I was like ‘Later . . .’ and I was out of there.

Monsieur Vincent sorted things out for me, he gave me a month’s paid leave. It was pretty good of him really, I’d only ever worked two days here, three days there, and there was a clapped-out old wreck I hadn’t even finished working on. He sorted things out with social services, too, since they were forking out for the apprenticeship.