You’ve likely guessed what I’m about to ask … Could you, calling on your friendship with the hotel manager, find the contact information of the person who stayed in the room before us? The manager will surely cite the confidentiality guests rightly expect from such an establishment. But if you cannot manage to convince her, who else can? I’m not trying to flatter you, but rather to express my genuine admiration for your ability to persuade others.
I hope we’ll be able to see each other before the summer. I can’t wait to hear the stories from your trip and your thoughts on the countries you visited.
Talk to you soon.
Your friend,
Lisou
P.S. The situation isn’t getting any better at the office. If you found a terrible poison in any of those distant countries that would pass undetected in an autopsy, send me a barrel of the miraculous product … My hatred for Bastien has only increased since my return and it’s time for this rivalry to officially come to an end!
from Sylvestre to Anne-Lise
LES CHAYETS, MAY 9, 2016
I didn’t expect to hear back from you so quickly, and the fact that you prefer to communicate by letter makes me want to write you back on the spot. To tell you the truth, for the last two years, I’ve turned off the ringer on my phone, which goes to an answering machine that serves as a buffer. I have an insatiable need for silence.
Tonight the house is empty, and I can breathe more deeply when I’m alone. My partner is always running from one activity to another without ever taking a breath and, right now, she’s on her way from a gymnastics class to a rehearsal for her theater club to a meeting for an events committee, or perhaps she’s enjoying dinner at a restaurant with one of her friends. Believe me, her busy schedule has guaranteed the longevity of our relationship more than all the therapy we could have had.
You read my only book, so you must have noticed my desire for calm and idleness. My wife’s absence allows me to satisfy both of those needs. As for our daughter, she’s left the nest, as they say, and she flies on her own two wings at the other end of the world, or almost, because she lives in Canada … I know you didn’t ask me about my family, but knowing a bit about yours, I thought it would be a good idea to put us on equal footing.
For the past few days, following your advice, I have brought my manuscript into the twenty-first century. Yes, yes, you read that correctly. I’ve returned to the first part that I’d written on an old typewriter, which is currently enjoying a well-deserved retirement in a collector’s attic. The act of placing my fingers on a computer keyboard and seeing the text appear in this new format renders the story strange to me, almost distant, like in the early morning when we recall a dream that troubled our night. I’m choosing this metaphor because my little naïve, ridiculous story has nothing of the great fanciful epics that have impacted generations of readers. Nevertheless, it merits a certain homage after all the time it’s been in my thoughts.
Now I’m rediscovering it through your eyes and I forgive you for using the term “sappy,” which, even though it did upset me, is nevertheless justified. I am astonished at the pages I wrote that seem to be straight out of a Harlequin romance book, when I was already old enough to be considered a “man” and no longer a “teenager.” But you are right, that innocence lends the story an impression of involvement, of closeness. I’m sure there are many of us who are still holding on to the memory of interrupted love affairs, left dreaming of what might have come next, unable to live it.
You told me to continue writing and I hope you realize you are responsible for this. I’ll take advantage of this to ask for your help: Will you read my new work once I’ve finished it?
I’ll understand if you refuse. Without knowing you, I can already imagine you raising your eyebrows as you read these lines, disapproving of my audacity. I would react in the same way if our roles were reversed …
Sylvestre
P.S. You mentioned that I am ignorant when it comes to the nature of women … what do you mean by that?
from Maggy to Anne-Lise
POINTE DES RENARDS, LE CONQUET, MAY 13, 2016
Hi, my Lisou!
Can you tell me more about this new project you’re talking about now? Tell me all about your plans, which remind me of the adventures we would have when we were ten years old, both of us corrupted by the characters of Enid Blyton.
I was thrilled to put back on my detective cap, and immediately went to see Agathe, as you asked. She is, of course, a die-hard fan of Agatha Christie and gave me no trouble when I asked for the name of the person who stayed in the room before you. To preserve the reputation of her hotel, I advised her to contact the occupant herself to ask permission.
Almost immediately we discovered that the young man was at the hotel with his fiancée for just one night and confessed that he hadn’t taken the time to leaf through the book, though he noticed it in the nightstand. Our two lovebirds didn’t remove it from its hiding place and didn’t deem it necessary to mention to the front desk … They apologized for not doing so and Agathe assured them they had done nothing wrong.
Don’t be upset, Lisou, you know how determined I am … And so we called the woman who was in room 128 just before the young couple. It turns out that this person is ready to swear on the Bible (or on any other book important enough to have a leather cover) that there was no manuscript in her room. She stayed there for a week and made herself quite at home. A big bookworm, she had tucked her reading provisions into the two nightstands, which were empty upon her arrival.
Agathe, our Sherlock Holmes in a petticoat, promised to gather all her staff tomorrow morning to question the potential witnesses and solve this mystery. Now I have turned into Doctor Watson, and so I will send you a full report of what happens at this unusual meeting. I have no other updates at the moment, but be assured that the Breton detectives are on the case and will provide you with the conclusion of the story, even if it means missing sleep or another of their usual activities, such as catching sea snails or eating galettes-saucisses.
Your comrade,
Maggy
P.S. I found my house in perfect condition and I applaud your children and their friends for having tidied up so well. Do you know that they even left me a bouquet of flowers on the living room table? They’ve dried, of course, but it still makes for a lovely decoration!
P.P.S. Forget about Bastien! He’s not worth risking prison over … Try humiliating him instead! You know that old piece of advice for defusing conflict: imagine your adversary completely naked while he gives a speech in front of his audience. But around here, we have something more effective: add to that birthday suit a Bigouden headdress and you’ll feel better, guaranteed!
from Anne-Lise to Sylvestre
RUE DES MORILLONS, MAY 14, 2016
Dear Sylvestre,
Your letter was the cherry on top of this three-day weekend … You are such a talented writer! And I love how you are trying to manipulate me! How could I refuse reading your manuscript when you’ve opened your heart to me?
I can confirm what you already know: I am impatiently waiting for the new end of your novel and I’m dying to know what outcome you’ll choose. Will you follow the dreams that you clung to at the time, or remain faithful to reality? Don’t tell me anything … I’ll quietly wait for you to conquer your demons and for your pen alone to decide the outcome.