Once past, we thanked the pretty young woman, who gave Isa a kiss and asked if everything was OK now. She was sorry to leave us there, but she had to go and get ready. Isa threw her arms around my neck in a daze, thanking me a thousand times for allowing her to kiss Lulu something or other – her schoolfriends would be sooo jealous.

‘I allowed you to kiss Lulu who?’

‘Louane Emera. She’s a really famous singer? OK, you’ve obviously never heard of her . . . I know, for the past two years, you’ve been shut away in your cave, listening to Wham! records, haven’t you?’

I’d never seen Isa so bubbly. She didn’t stop smiling all evening.

We wandered around backstage, then we froze. We were close to our goal. Holding our breath, we pushed open the door on which a clumsily Sellotaped plain sheet of A4 paper announced soberly, Maître Gims.

He was there, but he wasn’t alone. He leapt up, two men and a woman barred our path and tried to push us back. Isa managed to wriggle past and sum up the reasons for our intrusion in a few seconds: Louis, the coma, the notebook, our mission, his invaluable help. OK, our sheer gall, as well. I don’t know whether he believed us, but the guy started to laugh and said, ‘OK.’

‘Super cool, super swag, a legend,’ declared Isadora as we left some minutes later. She still couldn’t get over it, but, in her phone, she had the irrefutable proof: I’d jammed with the rapper Maître Gims. I can tell you that hearing myself screech, ‘Elle répondait au nom de Bella . . . ’ was worth its weight in peanuts, as my mother would say.

*

The following morning, I took Isa with me into Louis’s hospital room, for the first time. She hadn’t seen him since the accident. Of course, I’d prepared her, explaining that he’d lost a lot of weight, that he was pale, his features were sharper, and he was hooked up to countless machines. I was used to seeing him like that, but the reality was hard for Isa’s tender little heart to take. She cried silently for a while, watching Louis and holding his hand. She kissed him on the cheek. For me, too, that scene was gruelling. I managed to hide my emotion, but I couldn’t help thinking that Louis might never know what it was to be in love. That he might never feel that glow in the pit of his stomach, desire, the need to feel his arms around another person.