I went to the cemetery like I promised back in Aïn Deb. I sat on Rachel’s grave and talked to him for a long time. I knew he could hear me. ‘Hey, bro,’ I said, ‘you know what? I just got back from Aïn Deb. It was all down to Ophélie, really, she gave me the cash for the trip. She told me, “Rachel would be happy to see you taking an interest in your family.” See? I’m not a complete fuckup, and I’m getting better fast. Everything back in the bled is fine, apart from the weather, but it’s winter so I suppose it’s normal that it’s freezing and pissing down all the time. The people are really cool. They took care of me, especially Mimed, the shoemaker’s son. You probably don’t know him, he wasn’t even born when you left for France. Actually, you might remember him – that time you came back to bring me to France, he was bawling his eyes out because I was leaving and he blamed you, he was screaming at you. He’s a good-looking guy these days with lots of happy kids. I didn’t tell them you killed yourself, they were so excited to hear about you, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I did what you did, I went to Papa and Maman’s graves. It was nice. Their last resting place is so peaceful. Your cemetery is nice too, it’s beautiful, it’s quiet, full of flowers with people coming and going, birds singing, couples whispering to each other. You’re lucky . . . And I wanted to tell you, I read your diary. Com’Dad gave it to me after you . . . after the investigation. He said, “Your brother was a great guy.” It’s not like he was telling me anything new, I’ve always known that. All that stuff about Papa’s past, it was awful. We’d have been better off not knowing, you’d still be here, still be with Ophélie, things would be fine. At first I thought you were being too hard on Papa, but thinking about it, I realised you were right. What I read in your diary and what I found out from the books you left sent shivers down my spine. I aged, like, twenty years. I mean, could something like that happen again? I tell myself it couldn’t but when I see what the jihadists are doing on the estate and everywhere else, I think they’d outdo the Nazis if they ever came to power. They’re too full of hate and pride to just gas everyone. I’ve been trying to think how we can stop them, the people on the estate don’t say anything, and the cops are keeping an eye, but from a safe distance. My mates and me, we stand up to them as best we can, but we’re just kids, people are more afraid of us than they are of the Islamists. And I wanted to tell you that I’m going to try to publish your diary and mine, I hope you think it’s the right thing to do, I hope I can find a publisher. Like that poet Primo Levi said, you have to tell the children everything. Me and the guys are thinking of setting up a club to teach kids all the stuff people have been hiding from them, they need to know, they’re the ones who’ll take after their parents, the good and the bad. If you’re okay with the idea, I’d like to ask your old teacher, Madame Dominique G.H., to go over it, make it into a proper book. She won’t say no, she had a lot of time for you. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to say, bro. Momo and the guys say hello, and Aunt Sakina sends her love. I suppose you know poor Uncle Ali is a bit gone in the head these days. I love you, I owe you a lot. I’ll come back and visit. Get some rest.’