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gift for ending up in the most incredible fixes. You just don’t go around—”
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    I could see Simon in the rearview mirror, a few lines suddenly creasing his brow.
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    â€œWell, as far as I’m concerned . . . ”
    Yes. Exactly. As far as you’re concerned . . .
    â€œ . . . the problem with Lo—”
    â€œStop!” I exploded, in midair, “stop right there. I didn’t get enough sleep, so . . . leave it for later.”
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    Then she got all huffy: “Oh, well! No one can ever say a thing in this family. The least little comment and there’s a knife at your throat, it’s ridiculous.”
    Simon was trying to catch my eye.
    â€œAnd you think that’s funny, huh? Both of you, you think it’s funny, don’t you? It’s unbelievable. Completely childish. I’m entitled to my opinion, no? Since you won’t listen and no one can say a thing to you, and no one ever does say a thing, you’re untouchable. You never stop to question the status quo. Well, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind—”
    But we don’t want a piece of your mind, sweetheart.
    â€œI think this protectionism of yours, this way you have of acting like ‘we’re all in this together and the rest of you can go hang’ won’t do you any favors. It’s not the least bit constructive.”
    â€œBut what is constructive here on earth, Carine love?”
    â€œOh please, spare me, not that, too. Don’t start on your pseudo-Socrates disabused philosophers act. It’s pathetic, at your age. And have you finished with that goop, it really is revolting—”
    â€œYeah, yeah . . . ” I assured her, rolling the ball over my white calves, “I’m almost done.”
    â€œAren’t you going to use some sort of cream, afterwards? Your pores are in a state of shock now, you’ve got to re-moisturize your skin otherwise you’ll be covered in little red spots until tomorrow.”
    â€œDarn, I forgot to bring anything.”
    â€œDon’t you have your face cream?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOr moisturizer?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNight cream?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou didn’t bring anything?”
    She was horrified.
    â€œI did. I brought a toothbrush, and some toothpaste, and L’Heure Bleue , and some condoms, and mascara, and a tube of pink Labello.”
    She was shattered.
    â€œThat is all you have in your toilet bag?”
    â€œUh . . . it’s in my handbag. I don’t have a toilet bag.”
    She sighed, and started foraging in her make up bag, and she handed me a big white tube.
    â€œHere, put some of this on.”
    I thanked her with a genuine smile. She was pleased. She may be a first-class pain but she does like to please others. Credit where credit is due.
    And she really doesn’t like to leave pores in a state of shock. It breaks her heart.
    After a few minutes she added, “Garance?”
    â€œMm-hmm?”
    â€œYou know what I think is deeply unfair?”
    â€œThe profit that Seph—”
    â€œWell, that you’ll be lovely no matter what. Just a little bit of lip gloss and a touch of mascara, and you’ll be beautiful. It hurts me to say it, but it’s true . . . ”
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    I was floored. It was the first time in years she’d said something nice to me. I could have kissed her, but then right away she calmed me down:
    â€œHey, don’t use up the whole tube! It’s not L’Oréal, I’ll have you know.”
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    That’s Carine all over. No sooner does she suspect you might catch her red-handed in a moment of weakness than, systematically, after the caress, she plants the needle.
    Pity. She’s missing out on a lot of good moments. It would have been a good moment for her if I’d wrapped myself around her neck without warning. A big bare kiss, between two trucks . . . Nope. She always has to spoil