secret.
‘Close your eyes,’ she said softly, ‘and try to take in what I’ve just told you. Take your time. There’s no lasting damage. You’re not hurt,’ the voice repeated before placing her hand on Laure’s. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s fine.’
‘I’m your doctor,’ said the head with white hair, which was a bit less fuzzy than the woman’s face. ‘Don’t try to answer. As the nurse told you, you’re doing well. Can you nod your head? That’s good. I’m going to ask you a few questions and you can nod like that to answer. Can you see a little more clearly now than when you first woke up? Good. Is there a delay before you hear my voice? Good, that’s normal; it’ll pass. Wiggle your left foot, very good. Right foot, perfect, your right index finger, no, the index finger, thank you, your left little finger, and again, very good, breathe in, breathe out, perfect. Now we’re going to say a sentence: the robin is sitting on the branch. Off you go.’
Laure repeated after him, her voice hoarse.
‘What a lovely voice,’ commented the doctor.
Laure made a face.
‘I’m going to ask four questions that may seem a little strange. Are you ready?’
Laure nodded.
‘Can you tell me the name of a cuddly toy or doll you were especially fond of as a little girl?’
‘Foxy,’ whispered Laure after a pause.
‘Good,’ said Baulieu. ‘Presumably Foxy was a fox?’
Laure nodded.
‘Where were you on 11 September 2001?’
‘In Kuwait … gilding … the palace of Prince Al-Sabah.’
Baulieu shook his head.
‘That’s a first,’ he said. ‘Never heard that one before. What’s your name?’
‘Laure. Laure Valadier.’
‘Last question: do you know why you’re here?’
‘My bag …’ she murmured.
‘Don’t talk too much,’ said William, stroking her hand. ‘You mustn’t wear yourself out.’
‘Thank you for being here. What about Belphégor…?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Don’t worry, he’s fine. Laurent took care of everything.’
‘Laurent … Who’s Laurent?’
At the very moment Laure was asking that question – to which William replied with an uneasy silence – Laurent was pushing open the cast-iron gate to three large courtyards that led on from one another. They had both agreed during the ‘cat time’ phone conversation the previous evening to meet the following day at the workshop so that Laurent could return the keys. As he was looking around for the sign indicating which workshop was where, his gaze was attracted by a paving stone in the courtyard covered in gold. There was another one a few metres away and further on a third one. Like a fairy-tale trail, all you had to do was follow the golden stones to the third courtyard and the glass frontage of the Ateliers Gardhier. A curly-haired woman wearing little gold glasses was smoking a cigarette in front of the door. She wore black jeans and white Repetto pumps. Laurent said hello to her as he entered the building, where he found himself in a vast hallway whose walls were covered in ladders, ropes and tools that he did not recognise.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked him.
‘Yes, I have a meeting with William.’
‘I’m sorry, he’s not here,’ she said, blowing her cigarette smoke into the light.
‘Oh.’ Laurent was disconcerted. ‘I was supposed to return Laure’s keys to him. Laure Valadier?’
‘You’re a friend of Laure’s?’
‘Yes, I was feeding her cat.’
‘It’s Laure he’s gone to see. The hospital called, she’s just come round.’
‘How is she?’
‘I think she’s fine, but William didn’t go into detail; he left very quickly. He was very anxious. Well, you know what William’s like …’ and the woman ended with a rueful smile.
‘Good, that’s very good,’ murmured Laurent. ‘Everything is very good,’ he added in a low voice as if just to himself, then he smiled back at the woman. ‘Could I ask you a
‘Close your eyes,’ she said softly, ‘and try to take in what I’ve just told you. Take your time. There’s no lasting damage. You’re not hurt,’ the voice repeated before placing her hand on Laure’s. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s fine.’
‘I’m your doctor,’ said the head with white hair, which was a bit less fuzzy than the woman’s face. ‘Don’t try to answer. As the nurse told you, you’re doing well. Can you nod your head? That’s good. I’m going to ask you a few questions and you can nod like that to answer. Can you see a little more clearly now than when you first woke up? Good. Is there a delay before you hear my voice? Good, that’s normal; it’ll pass. Wiggle your left foot, very good. Right foot, perfect, your right index finger, no, the index finger, thank you, your left little finger, and again, very good, breathe in, breathe out, perfect. Now we’re going to say a sentence: the robin is sitting on the branch. Off you go.’
Laure repeated after him, her voice hoarse.
‘What a lovely voice,’ commented the doctor.
Laure made a face.
‘I’m going to ask four questions that may seem a little strange. Are you ready?’
Laure nodded.
‘Can you tell me the name of a cuddly toy or doll you were especially fond of as a little girl?’
‘Foxy,’ whispered Laure after a pause.
‘Good,’ said Baulieu. ‘Presumably Foxy was a fox?’
Laure nodded.
‘Where were you on 11 September 2001?’
‘In Kuwait … gilding … the palace of Prince Al-Sabah.’
Baulieu shook his head.
‘That’s a first,’ he said. ‘Never heard that one before. What’s your name?’
‘Laure. Laure Valadier.’
‘Last question: do you know why you’re here?’
‘My bag …’ she murmured.
‘Don’t talk too much,’ said William, stroking her hand. ‘You mustn’t wear yourself out.’
‘Thank you for being here. What about Belphégor…?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Don’t worry, he’s fine. Laurent took care of everything.’
‘Laurent … Who’s Laurent?’
At the very moment Laure was asking that question – to which William replied with an uneasy silence – Laurent was pushing open the cast-iron gate to three large courtyards that led on from one another. They had both agreed during the ‘cat time’ phone conversation the previous evening to meet the following day at the workshop so that Laurent could return the keys. As he was looking around for the sign indicating which workshop was where, his gaze was attracted by a paving stone in the courtyard covered in gold. There was another one a few metres away and further on a third one. Like a fairy-tale trail, all you had to do was follow the golden stones to the third courtyard and the glass frontage of the Ateliers Gardhier. A curly-haired woman wearing little gold glasses was smoking a cigarette in front of the door. She wore black jeans and white Repetto pumps. Laurent said hello to her as he entered the building, where he found himself in a vast hallway whose walls were covered in ladders, ropes and tools that he did not recognise.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked him.
‘Yes, I have a meeting with William.’
‘I’m sorry, he’s not here,’ she said, blowing her cigarette smoke into the light.
‘Oh.’ Laurent was disconcerted. ‘I was supposed to return Laure’s keys to him. Laure Valadier?’
‘You’re a friend of Laure’s?’
‘Yes, I was feeding her cat.’
‘It’s Laure he’s gone to see. The hospital called, she’s just come round.’
‘How is she?’
‘I think she’s fine, but William didn’t go into detail; he left very quickly. He was very anxious. Well, you know what William’s like …’ and the woman ended with a rueful smile.
‘Good, that’s very good,’ murmured Laurent. ‘Everything is very good,’ he added in a low voice as if just to himself, then he smiled back at the woman. ‘Could I ask you a
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