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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 don’t ever want to become like her!

I don’t want to be a mother like her. A woman like her. An old woman like her.

Wow.

I was miles away there. I look up and realise that there’s nothing to panic about. Maman is still lying on her belly. Her back is bare. She has unhooked her green bikini top and it’s fallen like a jellyfish, crushed by her flattened breasts. She might make fun of me for my T-shirt, but she’s the same with her disguise. That little top that she fastens again, playing at modesty, every time she sits up, just in case some guy catches a glimpse of nipple. Putting down her book. Sprinting with little footsteps towards the sea; aren’t you coming, darling?, she says to me. She comes back dripping; it’s lovely, darling, aren’t you too hot, wearing all that? Lying down again, pretending to be interested in the book that will last her the whole holiday. And taking off her top again so that she can tan one side without exposing the other.

Maman would rather die that have strap-marks. With the marks left by my T-shirt I’ve become accustomed to the brilliant joke I get to hear every time I go back to school at the Lycée Aragon: ‘Hey, Clo, have you been doing the Tour de France this summer?’

Hahaha … OK, that’s it for today, because I can tell you’re about to come out with some two-bit psychobabble. Go on, admit it, because that’s what you’re thinking.

I’m jealous of my mother!

Pfff … If it makes you happy.

If you had any idea what this dark little rebel was saying to you. She’s clever, she has a plan. She’s not going to be taken in by anyone. She will find herself a lover to enjoy the rest of her life with. She will have babies that she will fill with constant laughter so that they can hardly bear it. She will have a job that will be a constant fight: a boxer, bear trainer, acrobat, exorcist.

I testify here on Alga beach!

Are you happy now? Next time, I’ll tell you about Papa.

But now I must leave you. Maman has squeezed her boobs into her little top and is coming over to MY towel. I don’t know whether to be nice or bite her. I don’t know yet. I’ll improvise.

Bye …

* * *

He closed the notebook again.

Yes, without question, Palma was a beautiful woman. A very beautiful woman.

She didn’t deserve to die. Certainly not.

But since the worst crime had been committed, since she couldn’t be brought back to life, he needed to make sure that no one ever learned the truth.

6

13 August 2016, 9 a.m.