‘I’m going to put my cards on the table, Orsu. We’ll talk about our father later, if you like. But first of all, I’d like to sort out the matter at hand.’

The only thing that moved was his left index finger, cutting off the ant’s retreat.

‘First of all, I know you didn’t kill that bastard, so I’m going to get you out of here, trust me.’

The ant attempted to get away in a series of desperate zigzags. A thumb and a middle finger closed the circle.

‘Secondly, I know you understand very well what’s being said to you, but you don’t want to let it show. You also know much more than you want to admit. Like Bernardo in Zorro. So if you want me to help you, I’ll need a bit of give and take, my little brother.’

The ant went round and round in a circle. For the first time, Orsu raised the same eyes towards Clotilde as he had when she’d yelled at the stupid teenagers in the shower block at the Euproctes. Shy and embarrassed eyes that begged her to leave things as they were, that seemed to murmur ‘let it go’, ‘I don’t deserve this’, ‘thank you, but you didn’t need to’. Expressing all that in a single look was proof that Clotilde had gained his trust, even if Orsu still wasn’t ready to speak to a stranger.

She rummaged in her bag and placed two pieces of paper on the table, then ran her finger along the final lines of the first.

My whole life is a dark room.

Kisses,

P.

Then the second.

Wait there. He will come and guide you.

Wrap yourself up, it’s bound to be a bit cold.

He will lead you to my dark room.

‘I just want an answer, Orsu. Just a name. Who wrote that?’

She could go on talking; he was only interested in the ant.

‘Was it my mother? Was it Palma who wrote those letters?’

Ask the question again, communicating via antennae …

‘Do you know her? Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?’

The ant panicked, imprisoned, trapped. Clotilde thought of crushing it with her thumb, just to get a reaction from this mollusc.

‘Damn it, Orsu, it’s her handwriting, they’re your fingerprints, you brought me these letters, you guided me to the cabin in the maquis that night. But … but I saw my mother die in that car accident, I saw her crash against the rocks. So please, if you know the truth, tell me before I go mad.’

Suddenly, after hesitating for one last time, the ant climbed on to Orsu’s hairy finger.

‘Campa sempre.’

Clotilde didn’t understand.

‘Campa sempre,’ her half-brother repeated.