In the distance, the cathedral-like silence was broken by an unaccompanied Maria-Chjara singing ‘Sempre giovanu’. Clotilde had tried to wait for that song before uniting her body with Natale’s, imagining that their pleasure would be all the more intense; summoning all her patience while she waited for that moment, the fantasy of her adolescence, the fantasy of a lifetime for over thirty years. She hadn’t succeeded. She hadn’t been able to hold out for more than a few minutes, and had come during the chorus of ‘Joe le taxi’.

All that for that.

What if they loosened the moorings? Clotilde repeated again and again, this time in her head.

Natale hadn’t answered her question.

Clotilde wasn’t going to ask again.

They lay there in silence, waiting for a shooting star, losing all track of time.

Or at least Clotilde did.

‘I’ve got to go, Clo.’

The stars danced as if some mischievous god was trying to mix them up.

‘Home?’

‘My wife gets off duty at midnight. I’ve got to be back before Aurélia comes home.’

Find Betelgeuse among the jumbled stars, the Little Prince’s asteroid, any star that might have inspired love since the dawn of time.

‘Why, Natale?’

The boat rocked again, but this time it was because Natale was looking for his boxers and his belt, like a lover who was still drunk in the early morning.

‘Why have you stayed with her all these years? With a woman like her?’

He smiled at her, a smile that meant ‘You really want to know?’; a smile that she did not refuse.

‘Even if you find it hard to acknowledge, Clo, Aurélia has made a huge effort to be with me. To accompany me on my life, to arrange it, to bring some order to it. Aurélia is organised, she’s attentive, honest, straight, reliable, reassuring, present, loving …’

Clotilde tried to burn out her retinas by staring at the most dazzling of the stars. She didn’t try to control her tone of voice, which was shrill, like the harsh scrape of metal on metal.

‘Fine, I see, I believe you.’

She forced herself to relax slightly, to sound more serious, before she went on.

‘But that doesn’t change my question, Natale. Nothing you can tell me about Aurélia changes a thing, because I know you don’t love her.’

‘So what, Clo? So what?’

~

Go … Go and see, my love …4

~

Natale had left. Clotilde had been dressed for several minutes when a message arrived on her phone.

Franck.

All fine.

We’ll be back in a few days as planned.

You mean a lot to me.

The words she had exchanged with Natale still clashed, mirroring her own life.

I know you don’t love her.

So what?

4 Dialogue from the film, The Big Blue, directed by Luc Besson, © 1988, Gaumont.

47

Wednesday, 23 August 1989, seventeenth day of the holidays
Seaweed-blue sky

It’s the big day!