“But Mathieu, I don’t know! Give me time! Half an hour ago we were splitting our sides over your adventures at the ad agencies, then you drop your bomb and want my ­reaction right away! I don’t even know if I believe you!”

“Of course you do . . . You’ve known for ages.”

“Will you stop saying that, it’s aggravating!”

Her good old temper was surfacing again; Rose was becoming the woman she was at her finest hour, who always came out of disasters on her feet, who would take the bull by the horns with a vigour you wouldn’t have ­imagined she possessed a moment earlier, fighting to the bitter end and never giving way. How he wished he were like her . . .

“Okay, I had my suspicions . . . When you’d come home late Saturday night, early Sunday morning I should say, after you left Louise, you never smelled of woman’s ­perfume, okay? . . . But I didn’t want to see it, can you get that through your head? When you were just a kid your father used to worry so much that you weren’t enough of a ‘man,’ and I didn’t particularly want to admit he was right! I decided long ago, Mathieu, that your father was wrong about everything, everything, and I don’t want him to be right about anything now!”

She heaved an exasperated sigh, then took a sip of cold coffee.

“I’m sorry, my trouble with your father has nothing to do with what you just told me . . . But it’s true that’s one of the reasons I didn’t see it before: I didn’t want him to know something before I did . . .”

“That’s not all, I know you . . .”

“Well sure . . . I mean I’ve got my pride too . . . Can you see me going and telling all this to Georgette? It’s been years now since her son told her he’s that way, and all that time I was feeling sorry for her, bragging about you, your success with girls, your big healthy son . . .”

Mathieu realized he was out of cigarettes. Another reason to panic.

“Mamma, stop just thinking about yourself, think about me for a change! The reason I told you is because for the first time in my life I’m happy and I want to share it with you . . .”

Abruptly, she leaned towards him, as if to touch him, but stopped in mid-gesture. She spoke more softly.

“You weren’t happy before?”

“Not really. But now I am, even though Sébastien could become a problem . . .”

“You mean he doesn’t want to see Sébastien?”

“Mamma, don’t keep changing the subject! Listen . . . I’m looking you in the eye and telling you, I love him . . . I don’t want you just to understand that, I want you to accept it . . .”