Free The Panda Theory by Pascal Garnier

exactly when it might go off. Madeleine had taken them to a Western-themed restaurant. It suited the situation perfectly. Beefy blokes came here to eat beef and drink beer, which clouded their gaze with a mixture of guilt and greed.
    ‘Have you ever seen a white poppy?’ Rita asked.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I found one once. I was young, about eight years old.It was a Sunday in spring. I used to live in a little village called Subligny, near Sens. I was at a picnic with my cousins, uncles and aunts. We made posies of wild flowers: daisies and cornflowers. The weather was gorgeous. It had been a long, long winter. The grass came up to my chin. The sky was a picture-postcard blue. We laughed and chased each other while the men opened bottles and the women laid out the tablecloths, pâté, ham and salad. It was a wonderful day. And then I found it, there on its own, a white poppy. White! I fell down in front of it as though it were the Virgin Mary. It swayed in the wind, which swept through the field. There were others next to it, normal red ones that didn’t care about being picked or trodden on, just normal poppies, you know. I plucked it at its base and ran with it, holding it up in the air like a flag, to show my family. They were all amazed at my albino poppy. They took my photo. I was as pleased as punch. Here, look, I’ve got the photo.’
    Rita rummaged around in her miniature handbag, the bag that contained her whole life, and pulled out a shiny purse from which she picked out a yellowing photograph with curled corners and scalloped edges like a petit beurre biscuit. It showed a laughing, chubby little girl, with a Joan of Arc haircut, brandishing a skinny flower in both hands above her head. Behind her, against the backdrop of a milky sky, stood the blurred image of a small scowling boy. Rita, the queen of an unforgettable day.
    ‘You can tell it’s me, can’t you? I pressed it between two paper plates so I wouldn’t forget it. But after, because everybody was drunk, it got lost, probably thrown in thebin or something. It wasn’t a big deal. Whether they’re red or white, poppies don’t last.’
    The photo passed from Gabriel to Madeleine.
    ‘It’s funny, I’ve got similar photos of me when I was a kid, this age with the same haircut and the same outfit. I used to wear these awful glasses. God, I was so ugly! You don’t look so bad, Rita. So what are you going to do now?’
    ‘I don’t know. I can’t decide. I’ve always been like that. I don’t like deciding things. My only options are nothing or anything. What would you choose? I’ve spent my life following different people to different places. That’s why Marco was good for me. He always knew where he was going. As often as not it was straight into a wall but at least it was something, right? Why did that bastard have to leave me? I’d better not go anywhere. I don’t know much, but I’ve got this gut feeling. He’s going to need me – I’d stake my life on it. You’re a man, Gabriel. What do you think?’
    ‘I don’t know. Yes, maybe wait a while.’
    ‘Yes, I’ll do that. The only problem is I’m completely broke.’
    ‘I’ll take care of that. I’ll settle your room.’
    ‘That’s very kind. We could share the same room if you want. That would save money.’
    ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.’
    ‘Ah, okay. Oh, I’m sorry, Madeleine. You know what it’s like when you get wrapped up in your own problems; you don’t think about anybody else. I’m stupid.’
    The two women turned to one another and looked into each other’s eyes as if staring into a mirror. Madeleine took Rita’s hand.
    ‘There’s nothing going on between me and Gabriel. Isn’t that right, Gabriel?’
    Gabriel didn’t answer. He stared at his hands, which were flat on the table, as though dealt out in a card game. He was thinking about the ham and mashed potato he had planned for himself that evening.
    Madeleine pulled herself up like a ship’s