Читать книгу Puzzled - Seraphima Bogomolova - Страница 21

Monte Carlo, France, 25 December

I grab the coffee pot and start pouring coffee into our cups.

‘I hope you will forgive an old man’s curiosity, mon ami, but … ' says Monsieur Moreau.

My hand betrays me and I spill some coffee onto the tray. The brown substance spreads out and forms a stain, resembling a heart. Monsieur Moreau takes the coffee pot from me, dries the stain out with his napkin, then hands me a cup of coffee and says, ‘Do you have any plans for the New Year’s Eve?’

‘Nothing of definite nature … ' I reply.

‘I hope you don’t mean that you wish to spend it all by yourself?’

‘No, of course not,’ I mutter, ‘I’d like to spend it in a company that’s stimulating in all senses.’

‘Of course,’ he nods, ‘and such a stimulating company would be your girl-friend, I assume.’

‘Well … I’d have been delighted …’

‘Pardon me, Monsieur Luke, but why do you say, ‘would have been’? Has she got some other plans for the New Year’s Eve?’

‘No, she hasn’t. The thing is she doesn’t exist … ' I murmur.

A short silence falls between us. I stare into my coffee cup. An antique clock ticks.

Monsieur Moreau gives my shoulder a light squeeze. I feel a sudden pang of sadness. Stay his hand a little longer on my shoulder I would have burst into crying before him: the only person who has ever taken an interest in my void of any private life existence.

‘Well, that’s quite all right, mon ami,’ he says. ‘it’s merely a matter of time. Such a handsome man like yourself won’t be left without a girl for long.’

‘You see … ' I begin but fall silent, scared of my own daring.

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing, I’ll tell you later.’ I reply, getting up.

In the hall, Domino breaks into loud barking. Maman must have just returned from her visits.