The gear has been cleared away in silence. The cement mixer and the rest: locked up in the garage. Around here, anything that can be stolen is, they all know it, and no builder would be careless enough to leave his tools lying around on a site. Everyone’s gone home, nobody mentioned anything, and this long evening silence has weighed heavily. What they should have done, as they often do in such cases, was to go down into town and all drink together until they were wasted – but nobody suggested it. It’s not the first time an owner has got them with their backs against the wall, that’s not the problem. The problem is Manuel and that swelling powerlessness that makes them all dubious. If one of them – and not the frailest one – cracks, it means none of them can be spared. So they put a distance between them, like a protective border. Except Patrick, who despite the silence managed to drag his friend to Robion, a commuter village but with a nice bistro. They’ve downed a few mauresque cocktails at the Petit Cheval bar without saying a word. And yet the tension won’t relent. Manuel’s foot is fidgeting nervously against the rail on the floor. He turns his glass abruptly, compulsively, the way you wind up a watch. When he stretches his hand to pay, the landlord approaches and refuses, it’s on me, he says, but six glasses is quite a lot and Manuel doesn’t like it.

“Is this fucker feeling sorry for me or what?”

“Stop it, he likes you, that’s all.”

But Manuel sees eyes and laughter everywhere, and an insult in every kindness. Every man he comes across who knows about it gives him the impression of having fucked his daughter. “I’ve got some whisky in the car,” he finally says. “Let’s go to my place.”

They say goodbye to the other drinkers by tapping on their own foreheads, tipping imaginary hats they’ve never worn.

They drive in silence, fast. They pass a white Laguna but nobody, in either car, realizes who is who. In any case, it doesn’t matter, it’s just an inconsequential coincidence.

When they reach the estate, it’s almost dark and their headlights take in Saïd, leaning against his car. Alone.

The Long Night

The Long Night

“Brilliant, you were able to come! And you’re here with…”

“My sister, Céline.”