The whole family was there, emerging from another ­theatre. There were six of them, forming a compact, ­homogeneous group, all with the same style, the same ease, the same humour in the depths of their eyes, a vaguely tomboyish look that was just enough to remove any doubt but not enough to draw attention to itself; they were noisy of course, but not loud like some men. Kisses, embraces, brief introductions. They literally devoured Mathieu with their eyes, weighed him and judged him. He sensed it at once and shut himself off completely. Observations crossed and tangled, laughter welled up, nervous when a remark had been too obvious, conspiratorial when it was too obscure. Mélène gestured her approval while Jeanne gave Mathieu a look that was much too offhand. Mathieu leaned towards me in the midst of a widespread guffaw (subtle Mélène had just said to no one in particular: “I think I understand why you’ve been tied up around the clock: breaking in the new home entertainment centre?”) and asked, furiously “Was this a setup, this little chance ­meeting?” I swore that it wasn’t. I couldn’t help smiling, and that seemed to shock him even more than my friends’ remarks. Zouzou, in her nasal voice that sometimes has an embarrassing way of carrying, laid her hand on Mathieu’s shoulder: “Okay lovebirds, no billing and cooing!” A few heads turned and there were some smiles when people ­realized who the two “lovebirds” were. I thought Mathieu would crash to the sidewalk. Mélène tapped Zouzou’s arm, and she shrugged. “ Mélène, quit behaving like my mother! And anyway I wasn’t nearly as bad as you”

Right away, of course there was talk of “going somewhere to grab a bite.” I drew Mathieu aside.

“They’re my best friends, Mathieu, my only friends as a matter of fact . . . and it’s true I’ve been out of touch with them . . .”

“They aren’t exactly discreet . . .”

“They’re probably embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed! It sure as hell doesn’t show!”

“Well, nervous then . . . I’ve talked about you to Mélène a lot and she probably repeated it all to the rest of them, and they’re happy for us . . . They’re fantastic women, you’ll
see . . .”

“But I’m embarrassed too, Jean-Marc! I mean, I’m outnumbered, seven to one! How am I supposed to please them, with my back against the wall? Seduce them? Show them my terrific sense of humour, my great cultivation, my enormous I.Q.? They’re all older than me, Jean-Marc, I haven’t got a chance!”

I’d never seen him like this; I was startled and a little frightened too.

“Mathieu, you don’t have to do anything! This isn’t an exam you have to pass, it’s a chance meeting as you said, that’s all . . . We’re going to get something to eat, we’re going to try and enjoy ourselves . . .”