Mademoiselle Jolie (Tale 10) leaves the clinic one week after me. We have arranged to meet in the centre of Bordeaux to drink mojitos and say goodbye before I go back to England.
Monsieur Bonhomme is coming as well. He is collecting Mademoiselle Jolie from her apartment and will bring her home again. I’m curious to know how that friendship/relationship? is progressing. I watch the body language carefully. I am alert to any extra charge in the air, any bat squeaks.
They are relaxed with each other but Mademoiselle Jolie is noticeably more lively than Monsieur Bonhomme, who seems tired. The age difference is more marked than it was in the clinic.
It’s Les Épicuriales, when restaurants and bars set up outdoors in the centre of Bordeaux. We wander through the tents on the Allées de Tourny and find seats at a bar. A jazz singer is just audible above the chatter. We order mojitos.
Mademoiselle Jolie is in good form. She thinks some of her friends might be around later on. She looks as though she could party all night.
Monsieur Bonhomme isn’t in good form. He complains about a pain in his back. He talks about having to get up early the next morning to go to work. I am past the age when we could party all night. My husband was never a night owl. We say our goodbyes after the second mojito.
We walk to in the underground car park. We are underneath the tented restaurants and the bars. We drive up and out on to the Allées. We drive past the bar where we’ve been sitting. There is no sign of Mademoiselle Jolie and Monsieur Bonhomme. I’d like to think they’ve moved to another bar but think it’s unlikely.
“That relationship isn’t going anywhere,” says my husband.
I have to agree.
I want Mademoiselle Jolie to be happy, to find a “copain”. I want Monsieur Bonhomme to find a “copine”.
I like optimistic endings. I think that’s why I write books.