This was what had happened: for years, I had written out of passion or necessity, without thinking that one day I would manage to get published. The rejections piled up, and that seemed logical to me. I had no idea where my inspiration was leading me. That wasn’t the point; for me, writing was the central activity of a parallel life. But the appearance of the two Poles changed everything. I wrote their story, and six months later I had a contract with a prestigious publishing firm. What had happened? I had the feeling that the two Poles had brought me luck, that they were responsible for the change in my fortunes. So I decided I would never write another book that did not feature, at some point, two Polish characters.

‘So when will they appear in your book about me?’ Madeleine asked. I frowned, perplexed. I hadn’t thought about that. Since what I was writing wasn’t fiction, I’d assumed I would have to sacrifice my Poles this time. But she was right: they had to be there, as always. I wanted to introduce them then and there, but how could I find two Polish people while flying over the Atlantic? I could hardly ask the flight attendant to make an announcement, the way you might if a passenger suddenly fell ill and you wanted to know if there was a doctor aboard the plane. ‘Do we have two Polish people on the flight? If so, please contact your nearest flight attendant.’

In the end, I said to Madeleine: ‘Would you mind if I wrote that there were two Polish people sitting next to us? Nobody would bother checking that.’

‘No, that’s fine.’

‘Thank you.’

So we flew to Los Angeles beside two Polish people. At one point during the flight, I can’t remember why, we exchanged a few words. They were both film directors. They’d studied at the famous film school in Lódz. They were going to Hollywood, where they hoped to sell a screenplay. One of them told me in English: ‘It’s an amazing story. Really amazing. We’re sure it will make a remarkable film.’ I was intrigued, of course, but they wouldn’t tell me more than that. I hope with all my heart that, as I write these mythomaniacal lines now, they have managed to get their script into the hands of some important people, and that a big-name director wants to option it.

81

Two hours before we were due to land, Madeleine fell asleep. She slept so deeply that even heavy turbulence didn’t wake her. I was afraid she would still be groggy when the flight attendant woke her up, but she was instantly back to normal and she admired the view through the window. While New York was a standing city, Los Angeles was more laid-back.²¹ There was something magical about the sight of it.

We got through customs fairly quickly. The Americans are expert at managing the flow of tourists; you can see the same operation at work in queues at amusement parks. We ended up feeling disappointed when we got our passports stamped, because we’d almost come to believe that we were queuing up for a big wheel or a haunted house. Nowhere else on earth is the line between reality and entertainment so blurred. In certain American settings, it’s impossible to know if what you’re seeing is normal life or if someone is about to yell ‘Action!’