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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

‘Cervone Spinello is right about one thing. I did want to be sure that Nicolas knew how to drive before agreeing to go off on that trip in the Fuego. Your brother really did steal the keys to your father’s car, and he suggested that we take a short test-drive over to the Galéria. But what happened next is slightly different from the account you’ve been given by the campsite manager. Nicolas drove cautiously and confidently.’ Her fingers gently closed around Clotilde’s, like the retractable claws of a cat. ‘And I can assure you that I pushed the test to the max, kissing him on the neck, hands under his shorts, or in mine. He got us back safe and sound to the Euproctes campsite. Without once going off the road.’

Clotilde remembered Cervone’s words. Nicolas bending to look under the engine of the car. ‘It’s nothing, it’s nothing,’ bringing his black hands towards Maria’s white lace dress, and Maria recoiling, cursing, fleeing.

Who was lying?

Her voice trembled. ‘But Cervone heard you talking in the car park.’

‘That’s true. I don’t remember the precise words, once we got out of the car, but I told Nicolas that since he had passed the test, I would agree to get into the car with him that night. But on one condition …’

Maria-Chjara’s fingers tightened again on Clotilde’s, and as if an electric current had passed through them, Clotilde’s returned their grip.

‘On the condition,’ she continued, ‘that we went on our own, just the two of us, without those other fools from the campsite.’

Maria-Chjara’s words had a miraculous power, like some super-strength painkiller that could eradicate a migraine in an instant.

Cervone Spinello had invented it all!

Nicolas wasn’t guilty of anything, he wasn’t responsible for anything. That story about an accident was nothing but a monstrous defamation.

Clotilde had managed to hold back her tears, and now she was filled with a sweet euphoria. Maria-Chjara, on the other hand, was openly weeping, tears spilling down her cheeks and leaving thin, pale rivulets in the ochre powder she had so patiently applied.