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Back The Martins Save as PDF
Contents (99)
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  93. EPILOGUE
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I sat on the sofa in my living room for a moment. My face was warm from the alcohol, a sensation I found quite pleasant. I also remember enjoying, in that instant, the feeling of solitude that gripped me.

A few minutes later (although this interlude may have lasted longer than I realised), I stood up and went to my desk. The very desk where I was going to spend hours transforming my experiences into a book. It was obvious that I ought to note down as quickly as possible everything I saw, heard, did. I did not trust my memory.

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT MY CHARACTERS (2)

Madeleine Tricot. Despite what her daughter told me about her health, she seems really quite robust and lucid regarding her past. Told me about her first love. Sounds like he was the love of her life. His name is Yves Grimbert and he lives in the United States. We looked at his photograph on Facebook. I could easily write him a message. The reasons for his departure remain mysterious. Madeleine has never stopped thinking about him. I really like this story. Will it take over my book? I also have a soft spot for René (I like shadowy, forgotten figures). A few nice anecdotes about Lagerfeld which I’m keeping up my sleeve.

Valérie Martin. Her attitude towards me has completely changed. Is now enthusiastic about my project. Seems eager to talk, but also insists on knowing more about me. I have to find a way to dodge her questions. She radiates dissatisfaction. Is no longer motivated by her job. Major revelation: she wants to leave her husband. Is this just a phase? A genuine decision? I’m afraid she’s doing this to make my book more interesting.

Patrick Martin. Still somewhat suspicious of me. Nothing new today, but he did invite me to have lunch with him tomorrow. Seems totally preoccupied by his work problems, and the meeting with his boss. His jealous reaction this evening, though, makes me believe he’s still in love with his wife.

Jérémie Martin. Seems to lack self-confidence – normal for an adolescent. Made a surprising attempt to participate in my book by telling me a completely made-up story. I have a feeling this character could yet surprise me.

Lola Martin. Situation unchanged. She doesn’t want me to write about her. There’s no rush.

34

Before going to bed, I wrote to Marie: ‘Do you still prefer solitude?’ But I didn’t send the message. I didn’t feel like talking about her just then, nor did I want her to appear in my book.

35

The sun rose on the third day of my book. As I drank my morning coffee, I turned on my computer. I decided not to reply to the emails I’d received, to consider all external elements as a hindrance to my project. The Martin family was my religion now. I had become a devout believer, borderline intolerant towards the rest of the world. When writing, one must not let oneself be distracted by other stories. I have sometimes lost sentences by allowing my mind to wander. And there are so many temptations: one’s imagination often produces parallel storylines, as if the narrator were committing adultery.