by Anna Gavalda
‘You deserve to be treated like what you are.’
‘Which is …?’
‘Like a princess. A modern princess.’
‘Pfff … That’s ridiculous.’
‘Yes, I’m prepared to say anything. Anything if that makes you smile … Smile for me, Chloé.’
‘You’re crazy.’
He got up.
‘Ah … that’s perfect! I like that better. You starting to say fewer stupid things … Yes, I am crazy, and you know what I say? I’m crazy and I’m hungry. What could I eat for dessert?’
‘Look in the fridge. You’ll have to finish the girls’ yogurts …’
‘Where are they?’
‘Down on the bottom.’
‘Those little pink things?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not so bad …’
He licked his spoon.
‘Do you see what they’re called?’
‘No.’
‘Look, specially for you.’
‘Little Rascals … That’s cute.’
• • •
‘We should probably go to bed, don’t you think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sleepy?’
I was upset.
‘How can you expect me to sleep with everything that’s been churned up? I feel like I’m stirring a huge cauldron …’
‘I untie knots while you stir your cauldron. It’s funny, the images we use …’
‘You the mathematician and me the crone.’
‘The crone? Rubbish. My princess a crone … The number of ridiculous things you’ve said tonight.’
‘You’re a pain in the neck, aren’t you?’
‘Very much so.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps because I say what I think. It’s not all that common … I’m no longer afraid of not being liked.’
‘What about by me?’
‘Oh, you; you like me, I’m not worried about that!’
‘Pierre?’
‘Yes?’
‘What happened with Mathilde?’
He looked at me. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He got up. He poked the fire and stirred the embers. He lowered his head and murmured:
‘Nothing. Nothing happened. Or very little. So few days, so few hours … Almost nothing, really.’
‘You don’t want to talk about it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You never saw her again?’
‘Yes, once. A few years ago. In the gardens of the Palais-Royal …’
‘And then?’
‘And then nothing.’
‘How did you meet her?’
‘You know … if I start, I don’t know when I’ll stop.’
‘I told you I wasn’t sleepy.’
He began to examine Paul’s drawing. The words didn’t come easily.
• • •
‘When was it?’
‘It was … I saw her for the first time on June 8, 1978, in Hong Kong at about eleven o’clock, local time. We met on the nineteenth floor of the Hyatt Tower in the office of a Mr. Singh, who needed me to drill somewhere in Taiwan. You find this funny?’
‘Yes, because it’s so precise. She worked with you?’
‘She was my translator.’
‘From Chinese?’
‘No, from English.’
‘But you speak English, don’t you?’
‘Not well. Not well enough to handle this type of thing; it was too subtle. When you get to that level, it’s no longer language, it’s like magic tricks. You miss one innuendo and you’re out of your depth. What’s more, I didn’t know the exact terms to translate the technical jargon we were using that day, and to top it off, I could never get used to the Chinese accent. I feel like I hear “ting ting” at the end of every word. Not to mention the words that I don’t even understand.’
‘And so?’
‘And so I was confused. I had expected to be working with an old Englishman, a local translator with whom Françoise had flirted on the phone, “You’ll see, he’s a real gentleman …”
‘My foot! There I was, under pressure, jet-lagged, anxious, tied up in knots, shaking like a leaf, and not an Englishman in sight. It was a huge deal, enough to keep the business going for two years. I don’t know if you can understand …’
‘What were you selling, exactly?’
‘Storage tanks.’
‘Storage tanks?’
‘Yes, but wait. These weren’t just ordinary storage tanks, they were – ’
‘No, no, I don’t care! Keep going!’
‘So, as I said, I was at the end of my rope. I had worked on this project for months, and I had a huge amount of money tied up in it. I had put the company in debt, and I had even invested my personal savings. With this deal, I could slow the closing of a factory near Nancy. Eighteen employees. I had Suzanne’s brothers on my back; I knew they wanted to get even, and they were not going to cut me any slack, those useless – What’s more, I had a ferocious case of diarrhoea. I’m sorry to be so prosaic, but … Anyway, I walked into that office as if I were going into battle, and when I learned that I was putting my life in the hands of … of … this creature, I nearly passed out.’
‘But why?’
‘The oil business is a very macho world, you see. It has changed somewhat now, but at the time, you didn’t see many women.’
‘And you too …’
‘What about me?’
‘You’re a little macho yourself.’
He didn’t say no.
‘Hold on – Put yourself in my place for a moment. I was expecting to be greeted by an old phlegmatic Englishman, someone with a moustache and a rumpled suit who was well versed in the colonial ways of doing things, and there I was shaking the hand of a young woman and casting sidelong glances at her décolleté … No, believe me, it was too much. I didn’t need that … I felt the ground give way under my feet. She explained that Mr. Magoo was ill, that they had sent for her yesterday evening, and then she shook my hand very hard to give me strength. Anyway, that’s what she told me afterwards: that she had shaken me until my teeth rattled because she thought I looked rather pale.’
‘His name was really Mr. Magoo?’
‘No. I’m just making that up.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I whispered in her ear: “But I hope you’re aware … I mean, of the technical data … It’s pretty specific … I don’t know if they alerted you …” And then she gave me this marvellous smile. The type of smile that more or less says, “Shhh … Don’t try to confuse me, my dear man.”
‘I was devastated.
‘I leaned into her lovely little neck. She smelled good. She smelled wonderfully good … Everything was mixed up in my head. It was a catastrophe. She sat across from me, just to the right of a vigorous Chinese man who had me by the balls, if you’ll pardon the expression. She rested her chin on her crossed fingers and threw me confident glances to give me strength. There was something cruel in those little half-smiles; I was completely in a daze and I was aware of it. I stopped breathing. I crossed my arms over my stomach to cover my paunch and prayed to heaven. I was at her mercy, and I was about to live the most wonderful hours of my life.’
‘You tell a good story …’
‘You’re making fun of me.’
‘No, no! Not at all!’
‘Yes, you are. You’re making fun of me. I’ll stop.’
‘No, please! Absolutely not. And then what happened?’
‘You broke my momentum.’
‘I won’t say anything more.’
He was silent.
‘And then?’
‘And then what?’
‘And then how did it go with Mr. Singh?’
‘You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Tell me!’
‘I’m smiling because it was incredible … Because she was incredible … Because the whole situation was complet
ely incredible …’
‘Stop smiling to yourself! Tell me, Pierre! Tell me!’
‘Well … First she pulled a case from her bag, a small, plastic, imitation crocodile glasses case. She did it very self-importantly. Then she balanced a horrible pair of spectacles on her nose. You know, those severe little glasses with white metal frames. The kind that retired schoolteachers wear. And from that moment on, her face closed up. She ceased to look at me in the same way. She held my gaze and waited for me to recite my lesson.
‘I talked, she translated. I was fascinated because she started her sentences before I finished mine. I don’t know how she pulled it off; it was a tour de force. She listened and spoke nearly at the same time. It was simultaneous translation. It was fascinating … Really … At first, I spoke slowly, and then more and more quickly. I think that I was trying to rattle her a bit. She didn’t bat an eye. On the contrary, she got a kick out of finishing my sentences before I did. She was already making me feel just how predictable I was …
‘And then she got up to translate some charts on a board. I took advantage of the situation to look at her legs. She had a little old-world side to her, outmoded, completely anachronistic. She was wearing a plaid knee-length skirt, a dark green twinset, and – Now why are you laughing?’
‘Because you used the word “twinset”. It makes me laugh.’
‘Really, I don’t see what’s so funny! What else am I supposed to say?’
‘Nothing, nothing …’
‘You’re such a pain …’
‘I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet.’
‘Even her brassiere was old-fashioned. She had pushed-up breasts like the girls in my youth. They were nice, not too large, slightly spread, pointed … Pushed up. And I was fascinated by her stomach. A round little stomach, round like a bird’s belly. An adorable little stomach that stretched the squares on her skirt and that I found … I could already feel it beneath my hands … I was trying to get a glimpse of her feet when I saw she was upset. She had stopped speaking. She was completely pink. Her forehead, her cheeks, her neck were pink. Pink as a little shrimp. She looked at me, alarmed.
“What’s happening?” I asked her.
“You … Didn’t you understand what he said?”
“Um … no. What did he say?”
“You didn’t understand or you didn’t hear?”
“I … I don’t know … I didn’t hear, I think …”
She stared at the ground. She was overcome. I imagined the worst, a disaster, a mistake, a huge blunder … while she straightened her hair, in my mind I was already closing down the business.
“What’s happened? Is there a problem?”
Mr. Singh laughed, said something to her that I still couldn’t understand. I was completely lost. I didn’t understand a thing. I looked like a complete idiot!
“But what did he say? Tell me what he said!”
She stammered.
“It’s hopeless, is that it?”
“No, no, I don’t think so …”
“Then what is it?”
“Mr. Singh is wondering if it is a good idea to discuss such an important deal with you today …”
“But why? What is not going right?”
I turned to him to reassure him. I nodded idiotically, and tried the winning smile of a confident French businessman. I must have seemed ridiculous … And the big boss just kept on laughing … He was so pleased with himself that you couldn’t see his eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“Did you say something wrong?”
“Me? Of course not! All I’m doing is repeating your gobbledygook.”
“Then what is it?”
I could feel sweat running down my sides.
She laughed and fanned herself. She seemed a bit nervous.
“Mr. Singh says that you are not concentrating.”
“But I am, I am concentrating! I am concentrating very hard! I even said it in English. I am very concentrated!”
“No, no,” he answered in English, shaking his head.
“Mr. Singh says that you are not concentrating because you are falling in love, and Mr. Singh does not want to do business with a Frenchman who is falling in love. He says that it is too dangerous.”
It was my turn to go crimson.
“No, no … I said it again, in English. I’m fine, I mean, I am calm … I … I …” I was speaking a mixture of English and French.
And to her I said:
“Tell him that it is not true. That it’s fine. That everything is fine. Tell him that … I am okay. Yes, yes, I’m okay.”
I fidgeted.
She smiled one of those little smiles from earlier.
“That it’s not true?”
What kind of shit had I got myself into?
“No, I mean, yes, uh … no, I mean that’s not the problem … I mean, that’s not a problem … I … There IS no problem, I am fine!”
‘I think they were all making fun of me. The big boss, his associates, and this young lady.
‘She didn’t try to make it easy on me:
“Is it true or not true?”
The bitch! Was this really the moment?
“It’s not true,” I lied.
“Oh, all right then! You had me worried …”
The bitch, I thought again to myself.
‘She had me completely floored.’
‘And then?’
‘And then we got back to work. Very professionally. As though nothing had happened. I was drenched with sweat. I felt as if someone had electrocuted me and I had definitely lost my edge … I didn’t look at her anymore. I didn’t want to. I wished that she didn’t exist. I couldn’t turn in her direction. I wanted her to disappear down a hole and to disappear with her. And the more I ignored her, the more I fell in love with her. It was exactly like I told you a while ago, like a sickness. You know how it goes: you sneeze once, twice. You shiver, and boom. It’s too late. What’s done is done. It was the same thing: I was caught, I was done for. It was hopeless and when she repeated the words of old Mr. Singh, I plunged into my files headfirst. She must have had fun. This ordeal lasted nearly three hours … What is it? Are you cold?’
‘A little, but I’m fine, I’m okay … Go on. What happened then?’
He leaned over to help me pull up the cover.
‘After that, nothing. Afterwards … I told you, I had already experienced the best part … Afterwards I … It was … Afterwards it got sadder.’
‘But not right away?’
‘No, not right away. There were still some good times … But all the moments we shared after that meeting, it was as if I had stolen them …’
‘Stolen them from whom?’
‘From whom? From what? If only I knew …
‘Afterwards, I gathered up my papers and put the cap back on my pen. I got up, I shook the hands of my tormentors and left the room. And in the lift, when the doors closed, I really felt as if I had fallen down a hole. I was exhausted, empty, totally wrung out and on the verge of tears. Nerves, I suppose … I felt so miserable, so alone … Alone, above all. I went back to my hotel room, ordered a whiskey and ran a bath. I didn’t even know her name. I knew nothing about her. I made a list of what I did know: she spoke remarkably good English. She was intelligent … Very intelligent … Perhaps too intelligent? I was flabbergasted by her technical, scientific, and steel-making knowledge. She was a brunette. She was very pretty. She was … let’s see … about five foot four. She made fun of me. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and she gave the impression of having the cutest little stomach. She … what else? I began to lose hope as my bath cooled.
‘That evening, I went to dinner with some of the men from Comex. I ate nothing. I agreed with everything, and answered yes or no without knowing what I was saying. She haunted me.
‘She haunted me, do you understand?’
He knelt in front of the fire and slowly worked the bellows.
‘When I returned to the hotel, the receptionist handed me a message with my key. In small handwriting I read:
It wasn’t true?
‘She was sitting at the bar, watching me and smiling.
‘I walked over, lightly hitting myself in the chest.
‘My poor heart had stopped and I was trying to get it working again.
‘I was so happy. I hadn’t lost her. Not yet.
‘So happy and also surprised because she had changed her outfit. Now she was wearing an old pair of blue jeans and a shapeless T-shirt.’
“You changed your clothes?”
“Um … yes.”
“But why?”
“When you saw me earlier, I was in a sort of disguise. I dress that way when I work with old-school Chinese types. I figured out that the old-fashioned look pleased them, reassured them … I don’t know … They feel more confident … I dress up like a maiden aunt and I become harmless.”
“But you didn’t look like a maiden aunt, I can assure you! You … You were just fine … You … I … I mean, it’s a shame – ”
“That I changed clothes?”
“Yes.”
“So you like me harmless, too?”
She smiled. I melted.
“I don’t think that you are any less dangerous in your little plaid skirt. I don’t think so at all, not in the least little bit.”
*
‘We ordered Chinese beers. Her name was Mathilde, she was thirty years old, and although she had astounded me, she couldn’t take all the credit: her father and her two brothers worked for Shell. She knew the jargon by heart. She had lived in every oil-producing country in the world, had gone to fifty schools, and knew how to swear in every language. She couldn’t say exactly where she lived. She owned nothing, just memories. And friends. She loved her work, translating thoughts and juggling with words. She was in Hong Kong at the moment because all she had to do to find work was hold out her hand. She loved that city where the skyscrapers spring up overnight and where you can eat in some cheap joint just a few steps down the road. She loved the energy of the place. She had spent a few years in France when she was a child, and occasionally returned to see her cousins. One day she would buy a house there. It didn’t really matter what kind of house or where, as long as there were cows and a fireplace. She laughed as she said that, because she was afraid of cows! She stole cigarettes from me and answered all my questions by first rolling her eyes. She asked me a few, but I ducked them. I wanted to listen to her, I wanted to hear the sound of her voice, that slight accent, her way of putting things that was hesitant and old-fashioned. I took it all in. I wanted to immerse myself in her, in her face. I already adored her neck, her hands, the shape of her nails, her slightly rounded forehead, her adorable little nose, her beauty marks, the dark circles under her eyes, those serious eyes … I was completely head over heels. You’re smiling again.’
