The Panda Theory Read Online Free PDF Page A

wood, bronze and porcelain of cats jumping, sleeping, arching their backs, stretching …
    ‘The kitchen is on your left if you want to put your stuff down.’
    Even more cats in the kitchen: cat salt and pepper mills, cat jugs … Gabriel put the food on the worktop next to the hob and went back into the living room to join Madeleine. The room was small, but bright and very clean. Not a single cat’s hair in sight.
    ‘Make yourself at home. Do you want a drink before you start?’
    ‘I’d love one.’
    Being at home obviously freed Madeleine from the demeanour required at work. She was comfortable with her body, most probably sporty, natural – what’s known as a fine specimen. The strip of flesh visible between the bottom of her T-shirt and the belt of her skirt when she bent over to take a bottle from the cupboard was smooth and flat, not an ounce of fat.
    ‘I haven’t got a great choice. To be honest, I hardly everdrink aperitifs – I just keep some for friends. Do you fancy a Martini?’
    ‘Perfect!’
    It was as if there were a second world underneath the smoked glass of the low coffee table, an almost aquatic parallel universe where the reflection of the hands dipping into the bowl of peanuts merged with the floral carpet.
    ‘It’s funny seeing you here,’ she said.
    ‘It was you who invited me, the other day. You suggested I cook for you.’
    ‘I was joking.’
    ‘Well, I took it seriously. Would you rather go to a restaurant?’
    ‘No! It’s just that it’s surprising, that’s all. Normally you get to know people in a public place like a café or a club …’
    ‘A neutral place, yes. But why do you want to get to know me?’
    ‘I don’t know. Maybe because you always look a bit sad and bored.’
    ‘You must get a lot of people like that at the hotel, travelling salesmen, loners, people passing through …’
    ‘This is the first time! Don’t think—’
    ‘I didn’t mean anything like that, believe me. I’m happy to be here. Are you hungry?’
    ‘A little, yes.’
    ‘Okay then, I’ll get started.’
    ‘Do you want me to show you …?’
    ‘No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll manage.’
    It was as he had expected. Luckily, he’d thought ofeverything. It was a typical singleton’s kitchen. The fridge was practically bare and contained just a few fat-free yogurts, half an apple wrapped in cling film, some leftover rice, a half-frozen lettuce stuck to the back of the vegetable drawer and a jar of Nutella for those nights when she needed comfort. It was touching.
    The new potatoes were soon bobbing up and down in the boiling water, the shallots slowly caramelising in the pan to which he added the two good-sized pieces of calves’ liver drizzling them with balsamic vinegar and sprinkling a pinch of finely chopped parsley. The surrounding white ceramic tiles, unused to such aromas, blushed with pleasure. Madeleine’s face appeared in the doorway, her nostrils twitching.
    ‘Mmm, it smells nice.’
    ‘You can sit down if you like. It’s almost ready.’
    The liver was cooked to perfection, the onions melted in the mouth and the potatoes, glistening with butter, were as soft as a spring morning.
    ‘It’s been a very long time since I’ve had calves’ liver. I never think to buy it. It’s delicious. And the shallots …!’
     
    I am cooking for you because I like you. I am going to feed you. We barely know each other and yet here we are, just inches apart, where together we’re going to drool over, chew and swallow the meat, vegetables and bread. Our bodies are going to share the same pleasures. The same blood will flow in our veins. Your tongue will be my tongue; your belly, my belly. It’s an ancient, universal, unchanging ritu al.
     
    ‘… and that’s why she was worried.’
    ‘Who was?’
    ‘My grandmother, of course.’
    ‘Ah, yes, sorry.’
    ‘It was just a bit of anaemia. It often happens to kids who grow too quickly. I hated that.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Minced horse