But the door to my office flies opens and Fanny falls into my arms, sobbing hysterically. In that moment, I do not yet know that God has just sent the solution to all our problems. The God of the Italians. The one we prayed to as children in the little church of Montaldicio.

“I killed Vinca!” she wails. “I killed Vinca!”

15

The Prettiest Girl in the School

1.

By the time I left the emergency department at La Fontonne Hospital it was two a.m. What does death smell like? To me, it is that smell of medication, bleach, and cleaning products that pervades the corridors of every hospital.

Maxime had fallen at least ten meters and landed on the paved path below. Shrubs and branches on the slope had broken his fall, but that had not been enough to prevent multiple fractures to his vertebrae, pelvis, legs, and ribs.

Taking Olivier with me in the car, I followed the ambulance to the hospital and caught a brief glimpse of Maxime as he was being admitted. His body was covered in bruises, immobilized by a rigid brace and a cervical collar. His face, pale and expressionless, half hidden by IV tubes, was a painful reminder that I had not been able to protect him.

The doctors that Olivier managed to talk to had been pessimistic. Maxime was in a coma. His blood pressure was very low despite an infusion of norepinephrine. He had suffered a skull fracture and bruising to the brain, possibly even a subdural hematoma. We sat for a long time in the waiting room until the hospital staff made it clear that there was little point in our hanging around. The prognosis was not good, although they were taking Maxime for a CT scan to get a clearer picture of the extent of his injuries. The next seventy-two hours would prove crucial. I knew from what they did not say that Maxime’s life was hanging by a thread. Olivier refused to leave, but he insisted that I go and get some sleep.

“You look terrible, and anyway, I’d rather wait on my own—you understand.”

I nodded. In fact, I had no real desire to be there when the police came to take statements. Stepping out into the parking lot, I was met by driving rain. In only a few hours, the weather had changed drastically; the wind had dropped to make way for a lowering gray sky streaked with flashes of lightning.

I climbed into my mother’s Mercedes with some difficulty and checked my phone. No messages from Fanny or from my father. I tried calling but neither of them picked up. This was typical of Richard. He had probably found his wife, and now that he was reassured, everyone else could go to hell.