He set fire to Desjoyaux’s new curtains.

71

The curtains went up in flames. He watched them blaze, then used the fire extinguisher to put out the fire and calmly walked out of the office. Half an hour later, he was back at home. Valérie was reading in bed, waiting for him. He lay next to his wife and kissed her. The children were already in their rooms. Valérie asked him if he was hungry; he said he would take care of it. The two of them went to the kitchen and he made a cheese omelette. This ordinary evening felt like a new beginning.

As they told each other about their days, Patrick announced casually: ‘He wanted to see me so I could give him my opinion on his curtains. Can you believe it? So I went back to his office this evening and I burned them.’ She asked him to repeat this several times. Yes, she had heard correctly. She knew her husband, so she was well aware that he must have been at the very end of his tether to do something so reckless, so desperate, so brave. He told her in a whisper that it had been their discussion the previous night that had given him the strength to act; he didn’t want to put up with it any more. Of course there would be consequences (Desjoyaux was bound to know it was him), but that no longer seemed important.

They suddenly started laughing hysterically. Deep down, she could understand him better than anyone. She wasn’t being bullied, but it made her think of how colourless her life seemed. Daily existence had lost its flavour, so perhaps the solution was destruction? It was true that Valérie couldn’t see herself smashing up the school library, but maybe she too needed to face up to the future in a less polite, less yielding way? A day before, she might well have been angry with her husband for jeopardising their way of life, for acting stupidly with no thought for the consequences, but everything was different now. She admired what he’d done, and it felt so good to admire her husband.

They went to their bedroom and made love. Patrick fell asleep, exhausted by the whirlwind of recent emotions. Valérie went back to the kitchen and called me. All of this was too crazy to keep to herself.

72

Never could I have imagined Patrick doing anything like that. It seemed obvious to me that my intrusion into this family had been a kind of trigger. Perhaps a writer should be parachuted into all dull situations? The more I thought about it, though, the more I saw things slightly differently. Yes, I was beginning to feel certain: any person you put in a book will start acting like a character in a novel.

73

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT MY CHARACTERS (4)

Madeleine Tricot. Nothing new. She must have been packing her suitcase. In two days we will leave for Los Angeles.

Patrick Martin. I could write a whole novel just on his day. Cried for the first time in years. Was reborn through his tears. I couldn’t have imagined the story about the curtains. That Desjoyaux character is a real psychopath. Perfect for my book. Every good story needs a bad guy. And Patrick’s reaction … crazy! I’m proud of him. He’s bound to be dismissed for gross misconduct. He might even be prosecuted if the company presses charges.

Valérie Martin. What a turnaround! After announcing that she was going to divorce her husband, she’s now fallen back in love with him. She must have been angry with Patrick for not being up to the task of daily existence. She probably never stopped loving him. I don’t want to turn into a prophet of doom, but I do worry that her current euphoria might prove just as fleeting as her recent desire for divorce.