An Astronomer In Love by Antoine Laurain

Author:Antoine Laurain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallic Books

Xavier returned to the apartment for a simple lunch of a tomato, some toast and olive oil, with a piece of cheese. He ate on the terrace, in the sun, as the weather had cleared since the morning. Chamois had left for lunch, too, and would open the agency when he returned. For the first time, a young woman had been waiting for Frédéric at the shop front; he had given her a discreet wave from his desk. She wore glasses and had a long blond plait. When Xavier looked at her, she averted her eyes. Chamois has a girlfriend, Xavier thought. If he happened to see the girl again on the pavement opposite, he would ask Chamois who she was – not out of idle curiosity, but to forge a connection with Chamois himself, who was not by nature a big talker. Xavier had thought too about what Bruno would have said: ‘You’ve got yourself a new ladyfriend?’ Chamois would have blushed. ‘Who’s that girl with the glasses across the street?’ Bruno would have insisted. Poor Bruno. What was going on with his Depardieu-lookalike gardener? I must call him back, thought Xavier, slicing his tomato. He added a dash of olive oil and placed his warm toast on the plate along with two pieces of parmesan from the Italian grocer’s. The prices kept going up; soon parmesan would be listed next to gold on the market. He went to sit on the terrace. The sun was so strong that he regretted leaving his sunglasses at the agency. The fresh basil leaves on the tomato were perfect, and the toast was just crunchy enough. Parmesan added a salty note to the dish. Everything was quiet, and Xavier stretched his hand towards Guillaume’s telescope to lay his fingers on the shining copper. It couldn’t be good for the instrument, leaving it in the full sun; he moved it back to its table, which was in the shade. His lunch finished, he poured himself a glass of iced Vichy water, then moved his chair closer to look through the lens of the telescope. The first thing he saw was Alice’s window. He couldn’t make anything out. She must have been at the museum, her daughter at school. The small bag she had left as a gift for Olivier from Esther was at the agency; he would give it to him this weekend. Since the viewing of his own apartment, Xavier really hadn’t stopped thinking of Alice. Her face and her figure came to his mind at the most unexpected moments. And that feeling that something about her was familiar had not gone away – but what was it? He turned the telescope to the left, two buildings away from Alice’s, and discovered a roof terrace which he had never noticed before, and which was occupied by a small team of professionals who were working with a fashion model. The young girl posed, half haughty, half sulky, while a crouching man held a large white reflective panel at her side.

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