Honeymoon Read Free Page B

He was wearing a suede jacket.
    "This must be it … The chap's waiting for us …"
    He leaned over towards her and put his hand on her shoulder. A man in a summer suit, carrying a heavy black briefcase, was pacing up and down in front of the iron gate outside a villa. She parked the car on the pavement, a few metres away from the gate.
    "We'll only be a moment," she said. "Can you wait for us in the car?"
    He got out first, and went and opened the door for her. When she was out, he shut the door himself. Then he put his head through the open window.
    "If you get bored, you can have a cigarette … There's a packet in the glove compartment …"
    They walked up to the man with the briefcase. I noticed that he had a slight limp, but he held himself very straight, and put his arm round her shoulder with a protective gesture. They' shook hands with the man with the briefcase, who opened the gate and let them precede him.
    •
    Looking for the packet of cigarettes in the glove compartment, I knocked a passport out of it. Before I put it back, I opened it: I couldn't say whether I did so automatically or whether I was prompted by simple curiosity. A French passport in the name of Ingrid Teyrsen, married name Rigaud. What surprised me was that she had been born in Austria, in Vienna, the town I'd been living in for a few months. I lit a cigarette, but the very first puff made me feel sick. I had spent a sleepless night in the train, and I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day.
    I didn't get out of the car. I tried to ward off my exhaustion, but every now and then I fell into a kind of doze. I heard the murmur of a conversation and opened my eyes: they were standing near the car with the man with the black briefcase. They shook hands, and he strode off across the avenue.
    I opened the door and got out of the car.
    "Wouldn't you like to sit in front?" I asked the man.
    "No … no … I have to sit in the back because of my leg … I still can't quite bend it … An old injury to my knee …"
    It was almost as if he was trying to reassure me. He smiled at me. Was he the Rigaud mentioned in the passport?
    "You can get in," she said to me with a charming frown.
    She opened the glove compartment and took a cigarette. She drove off with a slight jerk. He was sitting sideways on the back seat, with one of his legs resting on it.
    •
    She drove slowly, and I had difficulty in keeping my eyes open.
    "Are you on holiday?" she asked me.
    I was afraid they would ask me other, more precise questions: What's your address? Are you a student?
    "Not really on holiday," I said. "I'm not quite sure whether I'll stay here."
    "We live in a little house near Pampelonne beach," she told me. "But we're looking for something else to rent … While you were waiting for us we were visiting a villa … It's a pity … I find it too big …"
    Behind us, he remained silent. He was massaging his knee with one hand.
    "What I liked was the name: Les Issambres … Don't you think that's a nice name?"
    And she looked at me from behind her sunglasses.
    •
    At the entrance to Saint-Tropez we turned right and took the road along the beaches.
    "From here on, I always take the wrong road," she said.
    "You go straight on."
    He spoke in a low voice, with a slight Paris accent, which gave me the idea of asking them whether they lived in Paris.
    "Yes, but we may come and live here for good," she said.
    "And you, do you live in Paris?"
    I turned round towards him. His leg was still lying across the seat. I had the impression that he was giving me an ironical look.
    "Yes. I live in Paris."
    "With your parents?"
    "No."
    "Leave him alone," she said. "We aren't the police."
    The sea appeared in the background, slightly below the road, beyond an expanse of vines and pines.
    "You've gone too far again," he said. "You should have turned left."
    She made a U-turn, and only just avoided a car coming in the opposite direction.
    "Aren't you frightened?" he asked me. "Ingrid is a very