Herve Le Tellier - Enough About Love

“We need to take exit 30,” she says quietly. “And then the first turn to La Roche-sur-Yon and Noirmoutier.”

“In one kilometer, turn left,” says the satellite navigation system, which has maintained a discreet silence for nearly five minutes.

“That’s what I just said,” sighs Louise. “Can’t you at least switch it to Italian or Spanish, so we can practice a language?”

“You can actually. You can also have a man’s voice, if you like.”

“In five hundred meters, turn left onto the D347.”

“Someone should invent a GPS for life,” Louise smiles, and she adopts the machine’s slightly nasal, disembodied voice: “In one week, take a lover. In one day, take a lover. Take Thomas Le Gall now, on the left. In one month, leave your husband. In one week, leave your husband.”

“Leave your husband now,” smiles Thomas.

“Turn left now,” says the GPS.

“There, you see?” says Louise.

She puts the map down.

“When was the last time you saw your father?”

“Eight months ago, for his eightieth birthday. I hadn’t seen him for, what, fifteen years. But I wanted my daughters to meet their grandfather, the ‘real’ one, at least once. So it wouldn’t stay a family secret, a phantom link. They didn’t want to, I had to insist and explain, to keep at it. In the end I convinced them by saying that if he died tomorrow, before they got to see him, they’d regret it for the rest of their lives.”

“In one kilometer, take the second exit at the rotary.”

“You can shut up. So the girls agreed. It was in a big, fancy restaurant, near the Porte Maillot, the sort of place I’m glad I never set foot. It was kind of cheerful, even if I did find it hard relaxing completely. Alice and Esther thought he was very nice, and they loved their cousins.”

“Your sister’s children?”

“My half-sister’s. Aurèle and Just.”

“Just?”

“You’re right, Just is a weird name. I wanted my girls here for the funeral, but it was too complicated getting them over from Glasgow.”

Louise points at a road sign saying LA ROCHE-SUR-YON—15 KM.

Thomas nods.

“I booked a pretty hotel in La Rochelle, in the old town, with views of the sea. We’ll leave right after the funeral. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. I have an overnight pass. I said I had to visit a lifer at Saint-Martin de Ré prison, for a review. It’s almost true.”

“How should I introduce you? Louise Blum? Just Louise? My friend?”

“Yes, Louise is fine, I think. ‘My friend’ is okay too, seeing I’m here as your friend. And I’m wearing black, which is appropriate.”

“Your dress really suits you.”

“It’s a suit, you moron …”

“Take the second turn on the right, onto the D347,” intones the GPS.

“Look,” Louise says, flipping up her skirt. Bright red lace with gray edging appears right at the top of her naked thigh. “I put on my sexiest underwear. To be honest, I even bought it for … for the occasion.”

“Fantastic, my love. I’ll tell my father as soon as I see his coffin.”

Thomas slides his hand onto her knees, strokes her legs and moves right up her thighs, which part to let him through. He slows down, the car shifts a gear.

“Good thing I rented an automatic.”

“Turn right now,” says the GPS.

Thomas absentmindedly obeys the computer’s instructions. His hand slips beneath the silk, flits over Louise’s pubis, which proves compliant.

“I love you,” says Louise.

Thomas’s fingers start to wander, so does he.

“Make a U-turn,” the GPS says flatly.

• •

I T IS NOVEMBER and yet summer is still lingering in southern Europe. The French Institute in Florence has invited Yves for a reading of his first book, which has been translated into Italian. Yves takes Anna with him for a long weekend. Their room is very light, with a balcony overlooking the Arno. Anna is watching the river and suddenly spins around.

“Please can we go to Arezzo? I’d really love to see the Piero della Francesca fresco. It’s of the Virgin when she is pregnant, she’s standing like in Byzantine images of her, impassive, hieratic. She’s resting one hand on her stomach, the other on her hip. The colors are gorgeous and her features so fine. They used it in Nostalghia , the Tarkovsky film. Do you remember? The poet and the young blond interpreter are driving along in an old Volkswagen. It’s pouring rain, the sky’s black, it’s a winding road and the chapel’s right at the top of a hill, surrounded by cypress trees.”

Yves thinks he has seen the film, but is not sure he remembers the scene. Anna is insistent: “When they get there, they’re celebrating a Mass for the Virgin. The girl goes in alone and the poet stays on the doorstep. The roof has collapsed and the Roman beams are open to the storm. It’s raining inside the church, on the flagstones, but the fresco’s in an alcove, sheltered from the rain, lit by hundreds of candles. Do you remember?”

Yves wants to remember. Arezzo is in southeastern Tuscany, on the border with Umbria, they will need a car, he rents one.

Anna buys a guide to Tuscany, tries to find the church. With no luck.

Yves makes his inquiries. An hour later, he knows everything.

“Anna, I have bad news.”

“The church is closed?”

“It’s not that. Your church with the broken roof isn’t near Arezzo.”

“Really?”

“Yup. It’s a Cistercian abbey somewhere near Sienna, San Galgano Abbey. It’s so romantic it’s been used in several films, like The English Patient.”

“Is it far?”

“Southeast of Sienna, an hour and a half by car. But you definitely won’t see the fresco from the Tarkovsky film there.”

“Why not?”

“Because the pregnant Virgin in his film is the Madonna del Parto . If you want to see her, you have to go to the Museo de Monterchi, a church not far from Arezzo. Actually, the director chose to film a reproduction of it which is much better quality: the Nostalghia Virgin. And that particular Virgin is somewhere else again, in the crypt of a Roman church in San Pietro, in Tuscany.”

“I see. Nothing’s true.”

“Let’s say Tarkovsky pieced everything together to make the scene. That’s movies for you, make-believe.”

Anna says nothing for a moment. When she does speak, her voice is sad.

“You know, that’s me all over. The things I want don’t even exist, it’s all make-believe.”

L’abbazia di San Galgano

Dove si trova?

Il complesso monumentale di San Galgano sorge circa 30 km ad Ovest di Siena, al confine con la provincial di Grosseto, fra Monticiano e Chiusdino, in una terra serlvaggia e incontaminata, ricca di bellezze naturali.

Museo della “Madonna del Parto”

Indirizzo: Via Reglia, 1 Monterchi (AR)

Telefono: +39 0575 70713

Orari: Novembre — Marzo, tutti i giorni: 9.00–13.00 e 14.00–17.00

Aprile — Ottobre, tutti i giorni: 9.00–13.00 et 14.00–19.00

Costo dei biglietti:

Intero: 3.50

Ridotto: 2.00 (student oltre i 14 anni)

Ridotto gruppi: 2.50 (gruppi a partire da 15 persone)

Gratuito: ragazzi sotto i 14 anni, donne incinte, abitanti di Monterchi, invalidi e disabili

• •

J UDITH WAS SO FRIGHTENED she is not even crying. Louise is trying to comfort her little girl, but Judith is terrified, she is shaking. There was a screech of brakes, the wheels hit the stroller, but Judith is unharmed. The van stopped with the stroller crumpled under its axle; the doll flew out onto the road. The driver leaped out, a big black man, he just keeps saying to Judith, “You’re not hurt, are you? You’re not hurt?” He is shaking more than she is.