She turns to the girl, puts the phone in her pocket with a guilty expression as if the girl could see what Saïd looks like, his crummy car, and even hear his accent. The girl doesn’t have one. They walk to Rue des Teinturiers together. She talks about some wonderful play or other she’s read, does Johanna know it? Her name’s Garance. Jo has a bit of a tummy ache; she doesn’t know what to say and hates the fact that this bothers her. She wants not to give a shit about it, like she usually doesn’t give a shit about posh people. But the bitches at her school who go horse-riding on Wednesday afternoons haven’t read Edward Bond. She suddenly feels this vague sense of unease, the divide that shows that money opens the doors to a world besides the one with expensive cars and holidays abroad. It’s not the first time but it suddenly takes shape, in the words of this girl, the passion that mirrors hers but is much better nurtured. Johanna feels betrayed.

“Do you live here?”

Garance nods. “My mother lives within the city walls. I go to the Lycée Saint-Joseph.”

“Of course you do,” Jo blurts out, sniggering.

“Yeah, I know,” Garance says, squinting at her, taking the sarcasm on the chin. But perhaps she’s also slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, I get it. But it’s really not that bad, you know.”

Jo doesn’t answer.

The street, cluttered with tables, makes Jo want to stop here and spend hours drinking ice-cold Coke. Garance suddenly sees some friends of hers and starts emitting joyful little screams as she calls out to them. Sitting around a table planted in sand – a trendy café that provides the illusion of a beach in the very heart of Avignon – Garance’s friends respond with equally over-the-top, euphoric shrieks. This really annoys Jo. She doesn’t say hello, keeps her hands deep in her pockets and looks the table up and down without warmth. She thinks they’re attractive and brilliant. Her stomach cramps really hurt and she doesn’t like the situation, these people who scream hysterically when they say hello. A bit like Céline and her friends, but not exactly the same, either.

“Will you have a drink with us?” Garance suggests.

“No, I can’t.”

“It’s on me.”

“It’s OK, I’ve got the cash, I don’t need you to pay for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Jo fixes her two odd eyes on the other girl’s, and the latter lights up with a smile.

“You’ve got amazing eyes, gosh, I hadn’t noticed before.”