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Back Time Is a Killer
Chapters (84)
  1. Dedication
  2. Time is a Killer
  3. Contents
  4. Map
  5. 1
  6. Twenty-seven years later …
  7. IRevellata
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. IISaint Rose’s Day
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. IIISempre giovanu
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. Twenty-seven years later
  77. Acknowledgements
  78. AFTER THE CRASH
  79. BLACK WATER LILIES
  80. DON’T LET GO
  81. About the Author
  82. Also by Michel Bussi
  83. More on W&N
  84. Copyright

Or perhaps Basile is talking nonsense.

‘Papé is right to be suspicious, don’t you agree with me, Basile? Even though I only come here once a year, I’m crazy about this part of the world, the Euproctes, Oscelluccia beach, the Revellata Peninsula. I’d like everything to stay the way it is, I don’t want anyone to be allowed to touch it during the eleven months of the year that I’m not here. Like in Sleeping Beauty, a magic wand to make everyone go to sleep when I leave in September, and I don’t wake them up again until July.’

‘But everything changes, Clotilde. You will too, you’ll see. You’ll change. More quickly than the landscape.’

‘It doesn’t have to happen. You haven’t changed, for example.’

Basile was amused.

‘No, that’s true! But that’s a shortcoming rather than a quality. The great shortcoming of the Corsicans, perhaps – not being able to change. I’m like your Papé in that regard. Honour, tradition, respect. But everything will move on anyway, despite us. Because we’re not going to live for ever, he and I. After I’m gone, everything will change completely.’ His eye swept across the landscape, all the way to the tents at the campsite, whose flagpole was just visible. ‘And to tell you the truth, I’d rather not be around to see that.’

Except that he was still here.

And he could see it already.

A procession of teenagers was coming down the path that started above the cave and led down to the sea, in a hurry to get there before sunset. Maria-Chjara walked at its head, all dressed in white lace. Hermann followed after in his cyclopean way, with a radio on his shoulder wailing out ‘You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul’ by Modern Talking; the radio continually changed shoulders as Maria slalomed down the path. Behind him, Cervone and Estefan were pulling a small trolley loaded with packs of beer. Nicolas dawdled a little way behind the others. And Aurélia appeared a few metres behind my brother. Then came Tess, Steph, Lars, Filip, Candy, Ludo …

The herd was on the move. Going to Alga beach, I assumed.

* * *

He closed the notebook and rested the palm of his hand on the cold stone of the cave.

Basile had been right to let his cancer of the colon take him away.

Since then, paradise had been conquered by fools.

28

9 August 2016, 3 p.m.

Everything’s fine

Valou