I knew the script by heart: once I was there, my father would pretend to be happy to see me, then, after the customary banalities – Did you eat anything on the train? Were there a lot of people on the boat? When are you leaving again? – he’d have nothing more to say to me. I’d be all, And you? How are things with you? knowing all the while that I’d be opening the floodgate to a litany of grievances. Granny Soize calls it the kaleidoscopic whinge: sentences which, when taken in isolation and uttered in a neutral tone, sound purely informative – You know, I was at the doctor ... When I eat in the morning, I get vertigo ... You remember Dédé, they’re going to cut off his hands and feet because of his diabetes – and yet when they’re all gathered together produce a terrifying pattern of the fate about to befall him. He swivels it a bit, and wham! everything gets rearranged and off we go again. The most awful thing is, it never stops. It was raining at Brest, just for a change. A biblical horizontal rain driven by the wind from the open sea that whips you in the face as soon as you step off the train. It was then that I noticed them for the first time, the three Parisians, there on the platform. It must be said they were the only thing you noticed, standing there in their pretty little shower-proof raincoats in an attempt to ward off the torrents of water. Two hirsute hipsters, one of whom was wearing glasses, as well as a fairly plain, tall girl with long, glossy hair.

I limped to the bus station as quickly as I could and climbed into the bus, which stank of wet dog. And then every oldie on board fell all over me. What a long time it’s been! You’re as white as a baby’s bottom, aren’t you! And what about your daughter, where is she? Blah, blah, blah . . . Fortunately, in this part of the world, it’s only one kiss you cop, not four, because I had to make my way down the whole aisle. The door shutting in the faces of the three dripping Parisians was met with general indifference, seeing as the bus was intended primarily for those from the island who were heading home.

Once we arrived at the port, everybody got off in a single movement and rushed to the ferry terminal to wait out of the rain until we were able to embark.