With Franck and Valou, first of all. To no avail. No reply, just a silent voicemail service that endured her insults without complaint.

Then she had managed to get through to Natale, at the beginning of the climb, and demanded that he join her, that he go with her with to the top of Capu di a Veta, but the fisher of dreams had declined her invitation. It’s impossible, Clo, I can’t get away before this evening, I’m working all day at the shop, but Aurélia is on duty at the clinic tonight, so, yes, Clotilde, tonight if you can, if you want to.

OK, until this evening, my brave knight.

More than anything, Clotilde had had the impression that, even after all these years, he didn’t want to see Cassanu. Her pirate wasn’t much of a mountaineer, and perhaps he was also a bit of a chicken.

It wasn’t important anyway. Papé Cassanu seemed harmless enough. Leaning against the vast wooden cross, he looked as if he would never be able to get back on his feet after that insane climb. They were both panting from the exertion and could barely speak.

Towards the middle of the climb, Clotilde had made her final call, the most unexpected of the three, and this time the person at the other end had answered after two rings, in almost impeccable French, with a German accent barely any stronger than his father’s.

‘Clotilde Idrissi? Mein Gott, how strange to speak to you after all this time.’

Clotilde was amazed – Hermann Schreiber didn’t sound at all surprised to receive her call.

‘My father phoned me yesterday,’ he explained. ‘After your visit. We talked a bit about the summer of ’89.’

He addressed her formally. His voice had a slightly disagreeable authoritarian tone. Clotilde wondered if Hermann remembered his nickname, the Cyclops. She dismissed the idea of throwing that sobriquet at him.

‘You remember that summer?’ she asked instead.

‘Yes, all the names, even the faces. It was quite a traumatic summer, though, wasn’t it? For all of us.’

Especially for me, you great plank.

She decided to forge ahead and tell Hermann the reason for her call, summing up in a few words what Cervone Spinello had revealed to her: her brother Nicolas, crashing the car a few hours before the accident, damaging the steering column and the bolts without realising it. Hermann sounded surprised, as if he couldn’t believe it. Then, after a moment’s reflection, his voice became almost solemn.