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opened it and blushed deeply, as if her bright red dress and the wrapper<br />
of the book had combined to ref<strong>le</strong>ct on her pa<strong>le</strong> gold skin. “Oh, thank<br />
you very much, Monsieur Voisin! This is a nice book indeed. And, you<br />
know what? My former geography teacher has sent me a book on the<br />
mountains of France. What a coincidence! It’s almost a col<strong>le</strong>ction I’ll<br />
have... I’ll show it to you.” They all went to her room. Jacques was<br />
anxious to be back with Kathy in the garden, but he had to be polite<br />
with the girl. A card slipped to the floor. It said : “From Carol, with<br />
love.” The handwriting brought back vivid memories, but it was impossib<strong>le</strong>,<br />
M. had never studied geography at University, and her midd<strong>le</strong><br />
name was not Carol either. Muriel and Joël wanted to show him all the<br />
gifts, including the Yamaha motorbike that they had both coveted for<br />
months, but “I am not alone”, he said, “<strong>le</strong>t me introduce you to a friend<br />
who has come with me.”<br />
Kathy had found peop<strong>le</strong> to talk to, she was sipping a wine coo<strong>le</strong>r<br />
with a straw from a small bott<strong>le</strong>, with a colour photograph as a label.<br />
Jacques was always scorning the wine coo<strong>le</strong>r generation, he also cal<strong>le</strong>d<br />
them instant Californians. Joël was not one to make comments, he was<br />
simply amazed that his father, who was as derelict as any swagman early<br />
this morning, had managed to change his sentimental situation so drastically<br />
in just a few hours. He would never understand the man. Kathy’s<br />
fine neck and shoulders emanated a nice fresh and natural scent. The<br />
volume of the music was up again, and it was nothing but classical, but<br />
the night was perfect. Kathy looked at Jacques in the eyes, everything was<br />
transparent, coherent, troub<strong>le</strong>-free, prepared for ready-made, standard<br />
felicity. Kathy was perhaps remotely aware that it was too much or too<br />
litt<strong>le</strong> for Jacques, or too late or too early. A hamburger steak dosis of<br />
vulgarity was enough to make her feel utterly unromantic, but even she<br />
thought, at that time, that life would have been worth living for any man<br />
with a serious interest in it. She had not yet come across any evidence<br />
that such an interest was lacking in him.<br />
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