When Steffy started telling him about how a lesbian friend of his, Pascale, had been inseminated with his sperm, and about what the custody arrangements would be if it succeeded, and how he was expecting the results of the pregnancy test at any moment, which was why he kept looking at his mobile, Félix finally exploded:
“So now you’re just the same as everyone else!”
He said it as though Steffy had just announced that he had become heterosexual. Félix had always considered that announcing to his parents that he would never have a wife or children had been a decisive and revolutionary act. To him little arrangements with modern science that enabled gay people to push a pram were like a broken promise, a betrayal of all he stood for. That didn’t prevent Steffy from carrying on in this febrile manner, grabbing his mobile every few minutes, turning it on, looking at it, putting it back in his pocket.
“Why don’t you just leave it on the table, and then we can change the subject!” Félix suggested. He hadn’t come to talk about nappies three days before Louchsky’s coronation at Versailles.
“OK, so tell me about your trip to London…”
Félix did so, lying with a certain amount of inventiveness, describing shopping trips, parties, outrageous behaviour, Mark’s friends, arguments they had had, the dilemma about their future together. Steffy listened, expertly winding his Thai noodles around his chopsticks.
“You’re taking the piss,” he suddenly said, looking up into Félix’s eyes.
Félix stopped talking.
“The British secret services forwarded their reports to the DGSE. They’re in a great state over there, about Louchsky. I’ve got a mate there who recognized your name. From what he told me, I can’t believe you had the time to go to all those exhibitions…”
“I see. So now I’m being spied on by my own friends.”
“You should be thanking me! And, I might warn you, you’re being watched here as well.”
“What the fuck’s going on in this stinking country?” Félix was getting angry.
“It’s what I told you would happen! You started treading on forbidden ground. Over here they think Louchsky is Father Christmas. He’s handing out money and jobs, so it’s the red carpet, Versailles, anything he wants. So I would just move on, there’s nothing to see here.”
“Yes, of course, Versailles…”
“It’s in three days’ time. He’ll have the Legion of Honour; there’s a big dinner, fireworks, five hundred guests, the head of state, all the captains of industry, celebrities, they’ll all be there. The tanks are rolling so get out of the way!”
“Go on, tell me who’s coming – give me a laugh!”
“There are five hundred guests, I don’t know them by heart.”
“The entire government I suppose…”
“Almost. And Douchet’s wife’s in charge of the table plans, I think she runs an events-organizing company.”
A light went on in Félix’s brain. He tried to conceal it from Steffy. Douchet’s wife. Hilar. The transfers. No, surely the sums were too large even for a party at Versailles. The events company must be a cover for the payment of some kind of commission.
“And they’ve got to leave room for the financial bosses,” Steffy continued. “And for the British Prime Minister and his entourage, the African oil moguls, the actresses, the journalists. There are a lot of ruffled feathers among those who haven’t been asked. My minister gets the most pathetic text messages.”
“What about you, are you going?”
“I wrote the Minister’s speech, but all I get is a pass to come into the grounds to watch the fireworks after the dinner. And don’t expect me to smuggle you in, I don’t want to crouch in the bushes watching the party.”
“Just as well. If I plant a bomb at least I won’t have your death on my conscience.”
“Stop it, I’m going to start fancying you again – you’d make a very sexy Robin Hood!”
They both gave a forced laugh. In the past their lunches together had been funny and tender. They had exchanged little stories about the government, there had been vague yearnings and gestures which betrayed memories of their past relationship. Now each probably thought the other had changed. Steffy turned his mobile on again.
“I’m being careful,” he said. “A lot of people know about you and me. They may have tapped my phone. Did you hear about what happened to your judge?”
“No!” Félix jumped.
He had left London too soon to receive the judge’s letter. Steffy told him all the latest news from the Chancellery. Félix listened, frozen. He could hardly touch his food or look at his friend.
“You see, Steffy,” he said finally, after a few moments, “I could never have predicted that it would be easier for me to be a gay man than a judge’s clerk.”
“Well, and I could never have predicted that I might become a father. We’ll probably both end up as disenchanted as any heterosexual man. That’s what you can’t bear, Félix, you thought you were above all that.”
A bit later, he added:
“Don’t destroy your life. Look at your friend, that Russian journalist. At best she might be given the Sakharov Prize, at worst she’ll get herself killed. And for what?”
Félix raised his eyes and stared at Steffy with utter contempt. He had just spoken about Lira like a civil servant in charge of giving a veneer to human rights at the Ministry. He would be equally capable of producing an obituary or words of praise, it was all the same to him. It was just a matter of which pigeonhole to choose.
“And so, why isn’t it her getting the Legion of Honour? Wasn’t it once a medal given to members of the Resistance?”
“Look, I’ve no idea what it is you and your friends have got possession of that’s putting those secret-service Brits into such a state, but I can assure you you haven’t got the manpower,” Steffy reiterated.
Silence fell between them. Then the news came: the insemination had been successful. Steffy was thrilled, but Félix was unable to share his joy. Soon they went their separate ways. Steffy asked Félix if he planned to go back to work. Félix lied – “Yes” – not sure if he would be believed.
He felt very distant now from this man whom he had loved in the past, and who was still trying to protect him. He had now drawn another line between himself and other people. He walked for awhile, coming close to the area and then the street where his parents lived. He thought of paying them a surprise visit, but he remembered their last conversations on the telephone, and the way he always failed to say what they wanted to hear. So he continued on his way.