My mother was born in south-east France, and, even though we lived in Paris, we often used to go on holiday to the Riviera, to stay with my Aunt Odile, who died five years ago. Odette and Odile, disastrously named, but a real sisterly pair, those two. Twins. I adored my Aunt Odile, who always concocted tasty little dishes for us. On Bastille Day, in the evening, she always made our favourite, soupe au pistou, then we’d go down from the old town of Hyères into the centre to watch the fireworks, the rich flavours of the vegetables and basil still on our tongues. I think I was happy then. I knew very well what my mother was driving at, that evening. I’d recognize the aroma of soupe au pistou anywhere. It was a summer dish, and this was 19 January. Too bad. I was starving.

Right away, I noticed how clean the apartment was. My mother had never been particularly fond of housework, and I suspected that she’d brought in Françoise, the woman I employ to do my cleaning, but I didn’t say anything. I sat down at the kitchen counter. Two plates, two glasses. I steeled myself for dinner with my mother, just the two of us. A nightmare that would have been unthinkable a few days earlier. Another absurdity in this decidedly topsy-turvy life. My mother smiled at me and asked if I’d slept well. Her turn of phrase, combined with the heady smell of basil, whisked me back thirty years. A sudden whiff of the past. I pictured myself back in the kitchen of our apartment in the Butte-aux-Cailles neighbourhood, a steaming hot chocolate on the table, my mother’s smile and her routine question: Did my little pussycat sleep well? My mother has always called me her little pussycat. She hadn’t uttered those words for ages.

It was a day of firsts. A day of renewal, perhaps.

I lowered my guard and merely replied, ‘Yes, thank you, Mum.’

Breaking News

OK, so I’m really sorry because I misled you. I think I’m alive. A bit of a mess, but alive. If we were on the news, a red ticker would say, Breaking news: he’s alive. Mind you, it wasn’t easy for me to realize it. It took a while. What do you mean, you knew I was alive? That’s crap, if you knew before I did.