We’ve spent thirty years in each other’s company now, so we don’t dare leave each other. If I was dumped by a fish, I’d be lost. The fish are my work, they produce my income, they keep me if you like.’
‘And because I’m like one of your damned fish swimming about in the dark, that’s why you’ve come to see me.’
Mathilde thought for a moment.
‘You won’t get anywhere like that,’ she concluded. ‘You need to be a bit more fishy, that’s exactly it – more flexible and fluid. Still, it’s up to you if you want to make the whole universe feel guilty. I came because you said you were looking for a flat, and it looks as if you’re still needing one. Perhaps you don’t have a lot of money. This hotel’s a bit dear, though.’
‘The ghosts that haunt it are dear to me too. But the main thing, Queen Mathilde, is that people don’t want to rent rooms to a blind man. They’re afraid that the blind man will do stupid things: drop his plate over the side of the table, piss all over the carpet because he thinks he’s in the bathroom.’
‘Well, a blind man would suit me fine. All my work on the three-spined stickleback, the flying gurnard and the sawback angelshark has paid for three apartments, in the same house, on three different floors. I had a big family living on the first and third floors – the Sawback Angelshark flat and the Three-Spined Stickleback flat, I call them – but they’ve moved out. I live on the second floor, named after the Flying Gurnard. I’ve rented the Stickleback out to an eccentric old lady, and I thought of you as a possible tenant for the Sawback Angelshark – call it the first floor if you like. I won’t charge you a high rent.’
‘Why not?’
Charles heard Mathilde laugh and light a cigarette. He groped for an ashtray, which he held out to her.
‘You’re offering the ashtray to the window,’ said Mathilde. ‘I’m sitting a good metre to the left of where you think.’
‘My apologies. You’re a hard woman, aren’t you? Most people would stretch out their hand to take the ashtray and wouldn’t pass remarks.’
‘You’ll find I’m even harder when you discover that the apartment is fine and a good size, but people don’t like living there because they find it too dark. So I said to myself: now Charles Reyer, that’s someone I like. And since he’s blind, it’ll suit him down to the ground, because what difference will it make to him if the flat’s dark?’
‘Are you always this tactless?’ Charles asked.
‘Yes, I think so,’ replied Mathilde, seriously. ‘Anyway, what about the Angelshark – does it tempt you?’
‘I’d like to take a good look,’ said Charles, with a smile, twitching his glasses. ‘I think it might suit me very well, a dark angelshark. But if I’m going to live there I’ll need to know the habits of this sea creature, otherwise my own apartment will think I’m an idiot.’
‘Easy. The Squatina aculeata , or sawback angelshark, sometimes known as the monkfish, is migratory, and frequents the shallow coastal shelves of the Mediterranean. Its flesh is rather bland, some people like it, others don’t. It swims like a shark, propelling itself with its tail. It has a snub nose and fringed nasal barbels. Its gills are large and half-moon in shape, its mouth is armed with unicuspid teeth on a wide base – and so on and so forth. It’s brown with dark speckles and pale spots, a bit like the carpet in the hall.’
‘I could learn to like a creature like that, Queen Mathilde.’
It was seven o’clock. Clémence Valmont was working in Mathilde’s flat. She was classifying slides and felt unbearably hot. She would have liked to take off her black beret, she would have liked not to be seventy years old, and for her hair not to be thinning on top. These days she never took off her beret. This evening she would show Mathilde two small ads from the day’s paper, which were quite interesting and to which she was
‘And because I’m like one of your damned fish swimming about in the dark, that’s why you’ve come to see me.’
Mathilde thought for a moment.
‘You won’t get anywhere like that,’ she concluded. ‘You need to be a bit more fishy, that’s exactly it – more flexible and fluid. Still, it’s up to you if you want to make the whole universe feel guilty. I came because you said you were looking for a flat, and it looks as if you’re still needing one. Perhaps you don’t have a lot of money. This hotel’s a bit dear, though.’
‘The ghosts that haunt it are dear to me too. But the main thing, Queen Mathilde, is that people don’t want to rent rooms to a blind man. They’re afraid that the blind man will do stupid things: drop his plate over the side of the table, piss all over the carpet because he thinks he’s in the bathroom.’
‘Well, a blind man would suit me fine. All my work on the three-spined stickleback, the flying gurnard and the sawback angelshark has paid for three apartments, in the same house, on three different floors. I had a big family living on the first and third floors – the Sawback Angelshark flat and the Three-Spined Stickleback flat, I call them – but they’ve moved out. I live on the second floor, named after the Flying Gurnard. I’ve rented the Stickleback out to an eccentric old lady, and I thought of you as a possible tenant for the Sawback Angelshark – call it the first floor if you like. I won’t charge you a high rent.’
‘Why not?’
Charles heard Mathilde laugh and light a cigarette. He groped for an ashtray, which he held out to her.
‘You’re offering the ashtray to the window,’ said Mathilde. ‘I’m sitting a good metre to the left of where you think.’
‘My apologies. You’re a hard woman, aren’t you? Most people would stretch out their hand to take the ashtray and wouldn’t pass remarks.’
‘You’ll find I’m even harder when you discover that the apartment is fine and a good size, but people don’t like living there because they find it too dark. So I said to myself: now Charles Reyer, that’s someone I like. And since he’s blind, it’ll suit him down to the ground, because what difference will it make to him if the flat’s dark?’
‘Are you always this tactless?’ Charles asked.
‘Yes, I think so,’ replied Mathilde, seriously. ‘Anyway, what about the Angelshark – does it tempt you?’
‘I’d like to take a good look,’ said Charles, with a smile, twitching his glasses. ‘I think it might suit me very well, a dark angelshark. But if I’m going to live there I’ll need to know the habits of this sea creature, otherwise my own apartment will think I’m an idiot.’
‘Easy. The Squatina aculeata , or sawback angelshark, sometimes known as the monkfish, is migratory, and frequents the shallow coastal shelves of the Mediterranean. Its flesh is rather bland, some people like it, others don’t. It swims like a shark, propelling itself with its tail. It has a snub nose and fringed nasal barbels. Its gills are large and half-moon in shape, its mouth is armed with unicuspid teeth on a wide base – and so on and so forth. It’s brown with dark speckles and pale spots, a bit like the carpet in the hall.’
‘I could learn to like a creature like that, Queen Mathilde.’
It was seven o’clock. Clémence Valmont was working in Mathilde’s flat. She was classifying slides and felt unbearably hot. She would have liked to take off her black beret, she would have liked not to be seventy years old, and for her hair not to be thinning on top. These days she never took off her beret. This evening she would show Mathilde two small ads from the day’s paper, which were quite interesting and to which she was
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