Such Fine Boys by Patrick Modiano

Author:Patrick Modiano
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yale University Press
Published: 2017-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Someone gently squeezed my shoulder. I turned around. Doctor Réoyon.

“I’d like to speak with you,” he said in a flat voice.

Under his arm was a thin leather portfolio whose color clashed with the immaculate white of his tennis outfit. How did he happen to be there? Had he followed Daniel and me when we left the club? Or had he stationed himself across the road to wait for me?

“This way, please . . .”

We soon came to a mini-golf course, its grounds protected from the highway by white wooden fences and privet hedges. A blonde woman was working behind the counter, in a rustic-style cabin with a thatched roof.

“Will you be playing, Doctor?”

And already she was tendering a golf club.

“No, no, we’re just here for drinks.”

He signaled for me to sit at one of the tables.

“Two Orgeats . . .”

“Very good, Doctor.”

He had laid his portfolio flat on the table and was caressing the leather with the tips of his fingers.

“I would rather you not see Daniel again,” he said tersely.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t believe it’s good for him.”

He transfixed me with his serpentine gaze. No doubt he was trying to intimidate me. But in reality, I felt like laughing.

“How could I do him any harm? We’ve been friends since childhood . . .”

“You’ve just said the magic word.”

His tone had softened. Once more there was that unctuous, plummy way of speaking. And he kept caressing the leather of his portfolio. His hand ran back and forth and an image flashed across my mind, with the power and precision of an unassailable fact: I saw that hand gently caressing Gunilla Desoto’s buttocks.

“You get along well with Daniel’s wife?” I asked him point blank.

“Very well. Why?”

“Just asking . . .”

“A moment ago, you said a key word,” Réoyon resumed nervously. “The word childhood. Daniel has remained a child. That’s the whole problem . . .”

He slowly took a gulp of Orgeat, then smacked his lips like a wine taster sampling a new vintage.

“And with children, a certain conduct must be observed. It requires a great deal of authority. That’s where I come in . . . Daniel’s parents are too weak and too old. I am the only one who can solve the problem. With his wife’s full consent, of course.”

Now, with his index finger, he was caressing the portfolio’s zipper.

“If I’d rather you not see Daniel again, it’s for his own good . . . Anything that reminds him of his childhood or the boarding school can only worsen his case. I am very sorry to tell you that you would have a deleterious effect on him. Leave him be.”

He was certainly not appreciating my smile.

“The situation is much more serious than you realize . . . Daniel’s parents understand this perfectly well and have given me carte blanche . . . I have here all the documentation to prove it.”

He opened the zipper of his portfolio with the slowness and delicacy one might apply to separating two petals of a flower.

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