At last, they beckoned me inside. Yves immediately caught hold of me. ‘So you’re Madeleine’s biographer!’

‘Yes, I’m writing about her.’

‘There must be so much to say, I imagine. Well, if you need me, I can tell you a few good stories.’

‘No, you can keep that to yourself,’ said Madeleine without managing to smile; she seemed to have been affected by the tenor of their conversation.

‘I suggested that we all have lunch at my place,’ Yves went on. ‘But Madeleine wants to get some rest. Which is perfectly understandable. So you can drop by later. My apartment isn’t far from here. It’s not a big place, but it has a nice view.’

‘Yes, let’s do that. We’ll go back to the hotel, and I’ll call you later,’ I said, sounding like a tour guide.

They embraced tightly, as if afraid they wouldn’t see each other for another sixty years. I said we could take a taxi, but Madeleine wanted to walk. I was eager to question her, of course, but I sensed this wasn’t the right time. Though usually so chatty, she was silent now. Just before leaving her outside her room, I had to tell her that I was going to change the date of my flight – and that I’d be flying back to France the next day. She immediately asked me if something was wrong. I told her, without any dramatic intonation, that I had something that needed attending to urgently. She respected my wish not to say anything more than that, and did not seem at all worried by the idea of remaining here alone for a few days. It was clear that Yves would take care of her. Things would be better like that, I thought, without their literary chaperone.

87

I took a nap in my room then, and when I woke up it was mid-afternoon: already very late in France. I called Valérie to update her on what was happening. For the first time, she was angry. I reassured her by telling her it was for the best, and that Yves was absolutely charming. But she believed I was being irresponsible: taking her mother to the other side of the world, then abandoning her there alone. Not only that, but she was a sick woman. I told her I had never seen Madeleine looking weak or unwell. On the contrary, in fact, she had always struck me as very lively and dynamic. But Valérie continued hurling abuse at me: ‘You’re leaving my mother alone there!’ I thought I heard Patrick’s voice then. Valérie asked him to repeat what he’d just said, and I heard him say: ‘Why don’t we fly out?’ The school holidays started the next day, and he was unemployed. It had been so long since the two of them had gone away together. And by going there to accompany Madeleine, they would have time to rediscover each other a little more. Valérie grew calm as she thought about this possibility; perhaps the announcement of my early departure was a sign, after all. They could try to find a flight on Saturday; they had some savings; now was the time to use them. And their children were old enough to be left on their own; in fact, they’d be thrilled to have the apartment to themselves.