To lighten the atmosphere, I suggested that she and I go on a trip to Boston. First the mother, then the daughter: I could specialise in journeys of healing for the Martin family. Valérie repeated that the whole thing was behind her, that the wound had already healed, but I sensed that the pain continued to nag at her. Valérie had forgiven her sister, but she didn’t want to see her again. Who knew, maybe one day things would change and they would be reunited? (She had admitted that she missed her sister, after all, albeit under the influence of alcohol.) That, of course, was Madeleine’s dearest wish. And I felt sure that Valérie would offer that gift to her mother, before it was too late.

51

It was almost midnight already; time flies when you’re sharing secrets. Even if I was there for my book, I had genuinely enjoyed her company that evening. I liked the way she talked about past hurts without complaining, the way she found the right balance between being truthful to her emotions and maintaining enough perspective to tell the story. She was a natural memoirist. ‘Well, I’ve never been to a shrink in my life, so it’s really a new feeling, talking about myself like this,’ she said, before adding that she was starting to like it. She was terrified of becoming addicted to talking to me. What would she do once the book had been written and I’d abandoned her for other characters?

‘We could still keep seeing each other,’ I replied. ‘I’d be very happy to do that, actually. It’s true that, when I finish writing a novel, I normally leave my characters behind. But this is different …’

She smiled. As I was saying those words, I had a fleeting thought for all my old characters. With the book finished, we had gone our separate ways. Was there life after The End? I have sometimes wondered if Markus is still with Nathalie, fifteen years after I brought them together in my novel Delicacy, and if they’re happy, far away from my words.

52

It was time to leave the restaurant. I hadn’t noticed that we were the last customers. The extras in this scene had discreetly left the set. The waiter looked relieved when we stood up to go, because it saved him an awkward conversation. He said ‘goodbye’ with exactly the same intonation as he’d said ‘hello’.

Outside, the cool air felt like a blessing. A much-needed airing of our neurons. I don’t know why I had let myself drink so much when I was already so tired and I needed to concentrate. Probably to keep up with Valérie. It’s hard to have a nice evening with someone without a good liquid equilibrium. Two sober people have plenty to say to each other; two drunk people even more so; but would one sober person and one drunk person really be able to have a conversation? This theory was my justification for the way we were swaying as we walked. Valérie held my arm to stay on her feet, but she was clear-headed enough to guide us home. She repeated several times that she hadn’t had so much to drink in a long time, and that it had done her good. And it’s true, we were both in a happy mood. Two drunken strangers, together in the night, wandering slowly to prolong this moment of escape. I like periods of time disconnected from the rest of my life; those little instants insulated from everyday reality.