Exhausted, and on edge. Throughout her solitary ascent, in spite of the breathtaking beauty of the landscape, she hadn’t been able to empty her mind, to enjoy the moment, the wind, the scents of mastic trees, citron or wild fig. On the contrary, various questions had been tumbling around her head, and were all summed up by a single one: was it her mother who been waiting for her last night in the shepherd’s cabin? She regretted not having dared to knock on the door after Franck appeared. She was cross with him for that as well, for breaking the spell. She had hardly slept that night, had been constantly thinking, delving into her memories in the hope of finding an answer to the idea that obsessed her.

How could her mother be alive?

She replayed the film of 23 August 1989 in her head, and there were only three possibilities.

Her mother wasn’t in the Fuego.

Except that her mother had been sitting in the passenger seat, with Nicolas sitting behind her, and Papa at the wheel. Clotilde had seen her, before getting into the car, after they had set off, on the journey. They had smiled and talked to each other. There was no doubt about it, all four of them had set off from Arcanu.

Her mother had got out of the Fuego before the accident.

Except that the Fuego hadn’t stopped, it had barely slowed down on the descent from the farm, and Clotilde was sure she hadn’t dozed off on the journey before Petra Coda. In any case they had only driven a few kilometres, and her mother was still in the car when the Fuego had left the road. Papa had taken her hand.

Her mother had survived the accident.

This was the only believable hypothesis, even if the Fuego had performed three somersaults, killing each time, even if she had seen the three bodies, shattered, exposed, then wrapped in plastic bags before being taken away … But she had been in a state of shock. Perhaps her mother was still alive? Perhaps the emergency services had performed a miracle? But then why announce her death? How could they justify resuscitating a patient, saving her, and then not telling anybody? Not even her daughter. Why make her an orphan? To protect her mother? Because she was the one someone had wanted to kill? She was losing her mind. She didn’t know who to trust. Was Cervone telling the truth about her brother Nicolas and her parents’ accident? Was Franck, her husband, playing some unlikely double game? Had Natale really seen her mother’s ghost? What did grandfather Cassanu know? Who was the one pulling the strings right from the beginning?

Like a reluctant teenager being dragged along on a hike by her parents, she had spent a good part of the climb on her phone, trying to get through to three people.