Of course, I should point out that there was no way of ‘knowing’ this. In fact, at that precise moment, it probably wasn’t even true, as the gametes take some time to make contact and form the zygote. Connie’s ‘sense’ of conception was an example of ‘confirmation bias’ — a desire to favour the evidence that confirms what we wish to believe. Many women claim to ‘know’ for sure that they are pregnant after sex. When, as in most cases, it transpires that they’re not, they immediately forget their prior certainty. In the rare cases that they’re right, they see this as confirmation of some supernatural or sixth sense. Hence confirmation bias.
Nevertheless, two weeks later a pregnancy test confirmed what we both already ‘knew’, and thirty-seven weeks after that Albert Samuel Petersen was welcomed into our world and chased our blues away.
— For crying out loud, Albie!
— Why is it a problem?
— But why don’t you want to come with us?
— I want to do my own thing!
— But I’ve booked the table for three people!
— They won’t mind. Go with Mum. Stare into each other’s eyes, whatever.
— What will you do?
— Walk around, take photos. I might go and listen to some music.
— Well, shall we come with you?
— No, Dad, that is not a good idea. It’s the opposite of a good idea.
— But wasn’t the point, wasn’t the whole point of this trip that we spend some time together as a family?
— We spend loads of time together, every day!
— Not in Paris!
— How’s Paris different from home?
— Well, if I have to answer that … Do you have any idea how much this trip is costing?
— Actually, if you remember, I wanted to go to Ibiza.
— You’re not going to Ibiza.
— Okay, tell me how much this is costing, then. How much, tell me?
— It doesn’t matter how much.
— Well it obviously does, seeing as you keep bringing it up. Tell me how much, divide it by three, I can owe it to you.
— I don’t mind how much, I just wanted — we wanted to spend time as a family.
— You can see me tomorrow. Christ, Dad!
— Albie!
— I’ll see you in the morning.
— Fine. All right. See you in the morning. No lie-ins. Eight thirty sharp, or we’ll have to queue.
— Dad, I promise you, at no point during this holiday will I relax.
— Goodnight, Albie.
—
— What?
— I’m going to need some money.
The restaurant where we’d eaten the famous chicken was closed for the annual exodus of the Parisians to the gîtes of the Loire, the Luberon, the Midi-Pyrénées. I’ve always had a grudging admiration for the chutzpah of this mass evacuation, a little like being invited to dinner only to find the hosts have gone out and left a tray of sandwiches. Instead we went to a local bistro that was so ‘Parisian’ that it resembled a set from a situation comedy; wine bottles barely visible under cascades of candle wax, canned Piaf, no inch of wall without a poster for Gauloises or Perrier.
‘
‘The beef, and the cod for madame. Certainly, sir.’ The waiter left.
‘When I speak in French, why does everyone reply in English?’
‘I think it’s because they suspect that you’re not a native French speaker.’
‘But
‘It’s a mystery to me,’ she laughed.
‘In the War, if I dropped behind enemy lines, how long before they cottoned on to the fact that I was English?’
‘I suspect before the parachute opened.’
‘Whereas you—’
‘I’d roam the country, undetected, blowing up bridges.’
‘Seducing young mechanics from the Citroën garage.’
She shook her head. ‘You have a distorted impression of my past. It wasn’t like that. Not entirely. And even when it was, it wasn’t much fun. I wasn’t very happy back then.’
‘So when did you become happy?’
‘Douglas,’ she said, taking my hand by the fingertips, ‘don’t fish.’
Thankfully we were now of an age where we no longer felt obliged to maintain a constant stream of conversation. In between courses, Connie read her novel and I consulted the guidebook to confirm the opening times and ticketing arrangements for the Louvre, and suggested some restaurants for the following day’s lunch and supper.
‘We could just walk out and find somewhere,’ she said. ‘We could be spontaneous.’ Connie disapproved of guidebooks, always had. ‘Why would you want to have the same experience as everyone else? Why join the herd?’ And it was true that there was a preponderance of English and American voices amongst the customers around us, a sense from the staff that they were giving us what we wanted and expected.
