“I didn’t see Philippe again for the two following summers. Luc and I went off to Morocco. He phoned us from time to time to give us his news. He came to see us in May, almost three years after the episode at the beach. The year of his twenty-third birthday. He came on the Honda that Luc had given him with a girlfriend riding behind him. When he took off his helmet, I saw his face, his smile, his eyes, and, to the day I die, I’ll remember saying to myself: I love him. It was warm that day. We had supper, all four of us, in the garden. We stayed talking for a long while, about everything and nothing. The girlfriend, whose name I’ve forgotten, was very young. Very intimidated. Luc was thrilled to see his nephew again. Philippe had left school long before, he was drifting from one casual job to another. My heart skipped a beat when Luc suggested employing him at the garage. He told him he would train him, and if all went well, he’d take him on. I’ve never believed in God. I didn’t do any catechism, and I’ve rarely set foot in a church, but that evening I prayed: Dear God, please don’t let Philippe ever come to work with us. I immediately felt Philippe’s eyes on me. He replied to his uncle, ‘Let me talk to my father, we don’t want him kicking up a big fuss.’ We all went off to bed. I didn’t sleep all night. The following day was a public holiday. Philippe and his girlfriend got up late. We hung around until lunchtime. In the afternoon, Luc had a nap, and I stayed watching television with Philippe’s girlfriend, while he went off for a ride on his bike.
“Since their arrival, I’d done all I could not to find myself alone with him. And then it happened at aperitif time. I went down to the cellar to fetch a bottle of champagne, I smelled his aftershave behind me. He wasted no time. He said, ‘I’m not going to come and work at your garage, but this evening, at midnight, you must come out to the garden, sit on the low wall, and wait.’ Before I’d even opened my mouth, he’d cut in, ‘I won’t touch you.’ He went straight back upstairs. I took the bottle and rejoined Luc and the young girl, sitting at the table waiting for me. Philippe arrived five minutes later, as though coming in from outside. I wondered what he was expecting of me. At the back of the garden, there was a log shed, and behind it, an old, low wall. An old, low wall Philippe had enjoyed skateboarding on as an adolescent. Indeed, Luc called it ‘Philippe’s wall’: ‘We should put some planters on Philippe’s wall,’ ‘Must give a lick of paint to Philippe’s wall,’ ‘Saw a lovely angora cat the other day on Philippe’s wall . . . ’
“The evening went by in a haze, I drank like a fish. At 11 P.M., everyone got up to go to bed. Philippe looked at me, and then said to Luc, ‘Uncle, I don’t think I’ll be able to come and work for you, I spoke to the parents today, they made a big fuss about it.’ Luc replied, ‘Never mind, dear boy.’
“I opened a book in bed, Luc fell asleep against me. The later it got, the more my heart raced. There wasn’t a sound in the house. At 11:55 P.M., I slipped a coat on, and went to sit on the low wall. I was in complete darkness. The garden faced the back of the house, so no street lighting. I remember jumping at the slightest noise. And I was afraid that Luc would wake up and look everywhere for me. I don’t know how long I stayed sitting there like that, not moving. I was paralyzed with terror. Nothing happened. Just silence all around me. But I didn’t dare move, thinking: If I move, Philippe will change his mind, he’ll come and work for us. If that had happened, I would have left. I would have got a divorce without saying a thing to Luc. It would have killed him to know that his adored nephew wanted me. It would have killed him to know that I loved him.
“Philippe and his girlfriend finally turned up. He said to her, ‘Say nothing, let yourself be led.’ Philippe was holding her by the hand, she didn’t know where she was going, she’d been blindfolded. In his other hand, he had a flashlight, which he directed at
