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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

‘I do care, Franck, but I’m out of my depth. Do you understand? So where I’m at right now is that I could just tell you everything: yes, I think my mother is alive. And yet I know it’s impossible. I didn’t dare talk to you about it. I know who killed my parents, who messed up the steering of the Fuego, who …’

‘I don’t care, Clotilde!’

Franck had raised his voice.

‘I don’t care about that accident, I don’t care about your parents who died twenty-seven years ago, I don’t care about the brother I’ve never met. I don’t care about any of it! All that matters, the only thing that is driving me insane, is that you kissed someone who wasn’t me, someone who felt you up, and who you wanted to meet up with and fuck this very night. I can’t accept that, Clo. I can’t. You’ve spoiled everything by coming back here, Clo. You spoil everything!’

During the whole of their long descent they didn’t say another word.

~

Franck sat hunched over his coffee, his face drawn. Valou sat with a bowl of chocolate milk covered with a mountain of cornflakes, two fried eggs, and an orange juice, as fresh as a rose.

Behind them, Clotilde was going into action. Franck took a sip of his coffee before speaking.

‘You want some good news, Valou? That boat, the 470 that I’ve hired for the day? We can keep it for longer, two days, three days, maybe even a week. I did some bargaining, and it’s all arranged.’

Valou broke the two yolks on her plate.

‘So the three of us are going to spend a week on a sailing boat?’

‘The two of us, Valou. Maman isn’t coming with us. We’ll make a few stops. Ajaccio, Porticcio, Propriano … Not to mention the inlets that can only be reached from the sea.’

Valou mopped up the fried egg with some fresh bread, without asking anything further, then took out her mobile phone like a managing director who needed to cancel her meetings for the next few days.

Behind them, Clotilde came and went, filling Valou’s bag with warm clothes, medicine, toothbrushes, sun cream, her favourite biscuits, Franck’s favourite biscuits, enough for the two of them. Might she be able to help repair the past by playing the part of the perfect wife, thoughtful and attentive?

How stupid could she be?

Why see it as a role now, when these were the same tasks she had been carrying out for years?

Franck got up.

‘Leave it,’ Clotilde said. ‘I’ll clear up.’