—
Alain hadn’t expected Laurine’s words to affect him so deeply. Genoveva…It was a long time ago, yet nothing had diluted his memories. He had fallen in love with Geneviève Ecollier at first sight. She had been twenty-five, he twenty-eight, and one heat-soaked summer day she had pierced him to the very core of his being with an intensity that put everything else he had ever desired in the shade. That was the day Geneviève Ecollier had celebrated her engagement to Alain’s brother Robert.
Alain had come from Rennes to get a first glimpse of the woman Robert had told him about on the telephone and in his innocent, gushing letters. He had believed only a quarter of what his brother had said, and had braced himself to find a charmless farm girl. Yet Geneviève was nothing of the sort. She had a provocative sensuality and a lively manner, with cherry-red lips and dark eyes that bore into a man until he heard his heart snap in two.
Alain had spent the entire evening of the party in silence. He had been angry—with Robert for not lying to him about his bride, and with Geneviève simply because she was who she was, and was doing nothing to ensure that Alain did or didn’t fall in love with her. He had observed how she behaved with Robert, full of gentle attentiveness, and with her parents and his parents. She managed to convince his austere mother, who distrusted any female that approached her sons, to treat her like a daughter who, on the contrary, needed protecting from men’s nastiness. His father acted as if he were personally responsible for his son’s success in attracting this wonderful woman, and displayed an almost dog-like devotion to Geneviève.
Later, Alain had mustered enough courage to ask Geneviève to dance. If he had merely been confused beforehand, he was hopelessly lost the moment Geneviève’s body brushed against his in her red dress. They didn’t speak, they simply gazed at each other, and their breathing intensified during the dance. He had felt her warm skin with his fingertips through the silky fabric; he had felt the heat that radiated from her eyes and her bosom. There was nothing to say that would not have belied the language of their glances and their hands. The longer they danced, unspeaking, the harder it became to find words. He knew, however, that they both felt something that their reason would not admit: I. Want. You.
Yes. Take. Me.
Their shared desire had tipped him over the edge.
Alain had always been the family hero: he had won everything, and his intentions had always been clear. He had never needed to cheat or lie to get what he wanted. With Geneviève, however, he lost his hero status. He lost everything, and now he would surrender his soul. All this was clear to Alain, not in words but in the depths of his conscience, as he and Geneviève twirled around the room to the music—in the very room in which there was to this day a painting that ran around the walls. In the old guesthouse.
Later, Geneviève had bought the hotel, as if she didn’t want to relinquish to strangers what had occurred that evening.
—
When you’re young, and don’t yet know anything about love and the world, it’s natural to think and act stupidly. Not that Geneviève, his Genoveva, had ever been stupid. No, but Alain had. He had loved his brother’s bride fervently and purely.
What about her? Geneviève was smart enough not to act upon it straightaway. She had been like July in Brittany, with its days that will not give in to the dark, bracing their bright streak against the darkness until midnight. Alain, with all the fieriness of youth, had refused to accept this. He had decided to stay in Kerdruc. He had pursued her with his lust, overwhelmed her with his love and seduced her with his longing. Passion was threatening to drown them both when Geneviève surrendered four weeks later.
—
Alain and Geneviève had had three summers together, three autumns, two winters and two springs. They loved each other desperately, earnestly, deeply. But neither of them had had the heart to tell Robert the truth. He joined the navy and was away for months on end—wonderful months!
Then one day when a bitter, bullying south-westerly wind was blowing, Robert came home three days before they expected him, as the ship he served on as an officer had to go into dry dock early. He found his bride and his elder brother wedged together on the floor in Geneviève’s kitchen in Trégunc. They didn’t notice him, and he was able to watch them for long enough to realize that this wasn’t the first time they had done this, and also that their sensations were unlike any that he had known or experienced with Geneviève, or ever would. He stepped over their tangled legs and opened the fridge to pour himself some cider. And that was when Alain messed everything up.
He had tried to let Robert have Geneviève, begging him, telling him that the wedding was in ten days. “And this,” he had said, pointing to the kitchen floor, “this will stop.”
Geneviève had said nothing, simply staring at Alain as he promised his younger brother that he could have Geneviève all to himself. She had got to her feet, still naked, and given Alain a slap, followed by a second one.
To Robert she had hissed, “The wedding’s off,” before grabbing her clothes, snatching her shoes and running out into the south-westerly wind. Only then had Alain understood that he had betrayed her love with his stupid wish to undo everything that had happened. When it came down to it, he had given in to guilt and fear. Not she, though: Geneviève had remained true to her love.
Twelve years after that last kiss on the kitchen floor, Alain had moved to Rozbras, and he had now been living on the other bank of the Aven river for twenty-three years. For thirty-five years Geneviève had refused to forgive him for his treachery.
—
Alain looked at Laurine. She must be the same age now as Geneviève had been when they were so passionate, believing they had reinvented the meaning of love. He hoped that Laurine would never meet a man as stupid as he used to be.
“Are you in love?” he asked her.
“Not at the moment,” she admitted after some hesitation. “Well, actually I am, but I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”
“I could do with a good waitress,” said Alain.
“Can I start right away?”