LOVE IS IN DISGUISE: Verne Estate Series, Book 3

8. MARK

I have no idea what time it may be. I’m sitting in an interrogation room which corresponds in every way to the cliché we have of this kind of place. Shabby walls, cracked tiles, and a strong smell of disinfectant suggests it’s had a rough time. The only thought that haunts my mind is: how could my life have changed so much in a matter of hours? In an ideal world, I should be home, with my brand new fiancee in my arms, asleep. I was very naive to believe for a moment that fairy tales existed.

When I arrived here, I was asked a lot of questions. More than my brain could handle. I answered them, well I think I did. It was as if a robot had taken hold of me and had taken my place for a few hours. And now I’m waiting. What for exactly? No idea. To tell me that my life is going to be even more rotten than it already is, certainly.

The door opens, the silhouette of Loraine slips into the room. She gently closes it behind her. She gives me a small smile of apology, of pity in truth. I must indeed be a sorry sight. A poor guy who gets picked up by the cops for causing a fight in a bar… his bar too.

“How are you?” she asks.

I’m far too tired to say anything sarcastic to her. I just shrug my shoulders.

“They’re going to release you, the… Well, the other guy isn’t going to press charges.”

This news amazes me. Seeing as I messed him up, he would have every right.

“And since the fight was at your place… So you’re free, you can go.”

Surely she expects me to react, say something, or get up and go. She pulls up the chair in front of me and sits down as I contemplate my hands on the table. She rests her palm on my arm.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

So she knows about it. It’s not like I thought I could hide from the world that I’m the biggest sucker in town, but I thought I might get a few more hours reprieve. Do they know that I’m also an asshole who learned of his misfortune with a knee on the floor? As I don’t answer, she declares:

“You should go home.”

I should go home. Yes, that’s what I should do, except my apartment is the last place I want to go. Sleep in the sheets we shared yesterday, wake up tomorrow and drink my coffee from the favourite mug she gave me, no thank you.

I get up anyway, it’s clear that I’m not going to spend the little that remains of the night on this chair. Loraine imitates me, she opens the door for me, I mutter a thank you.

I go up the corridor to the reception where a young policeman stares at me suspiciously. I spent enough hours in these premises, in my youth, to know that even if I’m released, I’ll still be guilty in the eyes of some of them. No smoke without fire. Loraine tells him to give me my personal effects. I got my meagre possessions back: my keys and my phone, since in my haste to leave the apartment, I left without even my wallet. I slip them into my back pocket as Loraine asks me:

“Do you need me to drop you off somewhere? I have finished my shift.”

I turn in her direction. She looks embarrassed, I don’t quite understand why. I know she wasn’t the one who decided to handcuff me earlier. I heard her boss order her to do so. She and I don’t know each other very well, well I mean not personally. She’s one of those people who is always there, somewhere in your life, without being close to it. A figure of the village in a way, but also a regular customer of the café, as well as the friend of several of my friends. She’s nice to me, polite, so it doesn’t surprise me that she offers to help me. She’s the kind of girl who is helpful to everyone.

I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t need to bother, but I realise several things: first, I’m alone here, and I came by a police car. Second, I don’t have a euro with me, and even if I did, the thought of finding a taxi or a bus in this area at this late hour of the night is just laughable.

“I…”

“It doesn’t bother me, I’m going home and I live not far from you,” she said before adding: “Well, I think so.”

This is where I remember there’s a third point on my list. I don’t want to go back to the apartment. But where am I going to go? I’m not going to wake my parents up at this time. I could try my sister’s house, but I don’t want to worry her, and I don’t have the strength to explain to her why I’m showing up in the middle of the night. A buddy? Maybe I can call Erik, my bartender, he must have locked up, he’s probably not in bed. But at the same time, asking an employee for help isn’t something that I appreciate. The easiest way would certainly be to go to sleep on the sofa at Café de la Place. But I don’t have my things. It’s not that I’m the type to be confused because I didn’t bring my toothbrush with me, but if I’m going to go buy one tomorrow morning, I should already have my wallet. So a trip to the apartment seems inevitable if only to go and retrieve it. Even if the last thing I want right now is to run into Jenny. I end up answering Loraine:

“OK, if you don’t mind dropping me off.”

She nods and beckons me to follow her. She crosses the station parking lot to a 4x4. It’s not quite the car I imagined her driving. Although in reality I never wondered what she could have for a car. This isn’t a model for the city adventurer just wanting to prove his social success, but rather a Range Rover which must have known more than one muddy and stony terrain in its life. The kind that local hunters or vineyard owners drive. Maybe it’s a friend’s, or her grandfather’s. I believe she lives with him.

She climbs with agility in the driver’s side, despite the height. Well, it’s true that if you compare her to Jenny, she’s downright tall for a woman. Smaller than me anyway, but above average. The machine backfires when she turns the ignition. She engages reverse gear and performs her manoeuvre before exiting the parking lot. The few minutes of the journey that follow pass in a silence that I appreciate. In truth, I was afraid that she would take the opportunity to ask me questions. But it looks like the policewoman doesn’t have a taste for questioning when she’s not on duty. Or, she’s tactful enough to know that I need to be left alone.

She parks in the street, not exactly outside my apartment because there’s no room. She doesn’t shut down the engine. I turn to her and say:

“Thank you.”

She answers me with a small nod and a slight smile. I open the door to exit, I have one leg on the ground when my eyes are caught by something a little further down the street.

Smoke.

I freeze and blink. But in the rather clear night, there’s no doubt. There’s smoke in the street, and it seems to come...

“What’s happening?” Loraine asks behind me.

I get out of the car completely, I walk around the door without taking the time to close it. I take two steps forward and… yes! The smoke is coming from my building. I then ran for a few metres to get closer. I hear Loraine cut the engine, and I guess she’s following me. Now that I’m closer, I see smoke billowing from my living room window. This is where the facts add up in my head. The candles, the marriage proposal, Jenny’s refusal, her confession, me leaving the place, her going in pursuit of me. And no one to put out those damn candles!

“Are there people who live here?” said Loraine, who caught up with me.

“On the first floor, Ms Bonnet,” I reply thinking of the old lady who lives below us. She must be asleep.

I hastily type the code for the front door, but as I’m about to enter the building, Loraine bars my way.

“Call the fire department, I’ll take care of her.”

She looks so sure of herself that it doesn’t even occur to me to contradict her. The next second, she disappeared. I then took out my phone and dialled 18.

Three minutes later, I have an online operator who ensures me that a team is on the way. The smoke seems to redouble in intensity. Maybe I should go up and see if I can’t try something myself? There’s a fire extinguisher in the common areas. But when I’m about to enter, Loraine arrives with Ms Bonnet. The poor little old woman looks distraught in her flowery bathrobe. Loraine speaks to her calmly while holding her arm. When she meets me at the entrance of the building, she orders me:

“Get out of here, the firefighters will come, there’s no need to be smart. Are you sure there’s no one else?”

“No, the only other apartment is vacant.”

“What about Jenny? She’s not here?”

Jenny.

In my opinion, she wouldn’t have wanted to spend the night here either, but what do I know? Without thinking more, I ran up the stairs. I hear Loraine cry out my name but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t check?

I take out my keys in a hurry and almost drop them on the floor. Smoke rises under the door, I can already feel my lungs stinging. I open and immediately shout:

“Jenny! Jenny! Are you there?”

The lights are out, but if she’s asleep, that’s normal. I walk past the living room. Through the thick smoke, I can make out a few still burning candles that seem to taunt me. I run to the bedroom, slam the door open and find with relief that it’s empty. I hear the sirens of the firefighters in the street. I see through the shutters which have remained open the bluish lights of their rotating beacons reflecting on the facades of the street. It’s then that I feel that I’m being pulled by the arm.

“Come! We have to get out of here!”

Loraine joined me. Now isn’t the time to point out to her that she shouldn’t have followed me. I grab her hand, and we walk through the apartment before heading down the stairs towards the exit.