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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

Manu Chao in my ears, singing about a heart that’s been consumed. I turn the volume up again. I don’t want to leave my weird dream. I sit down, pick up my notebook and my pen.

I’m still drowsy, I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep for, or really where I am. It’s nearly dark, it was broad daylight when I dozed off.

I emerge slowly …

So about that dream, shall I tell you about it before it evaporates? Before I go back to sleep? You’ll be amazed!

You know what?

You were there, my visitor from the future. You were in my dream!

Yes, honest truth, or rather, not you exactly, but that weird dream happened in your time, a long time from now. Not ten years, or thirty, even longer than that. I’d say at least fifty years from now.

Nicolas is still standing in front of me. He looks annoyed.

‘Clo, everyone’s waiting for you. Papa isn’t going to …’

Papa?

Did I miss an episode? Has Papa changed his plans?

My eyes slide, for a moment, to the moon in the sky, the reflection of its twin in the sea, and I start writing even faster. My beloved reader mustn’t get cross with me if I haven’t time to finish one of my sentences, if one of my words is left hanging, if I leave you waiting for more. It’ll be because Papa has grabbed me, gripped my arm and forced me to follow him, leaving behind my notebook and my pen. So I’ll send you a kiss right now and say see you soon just in case we don’t have time for a hug later.

I’ll continue.

In front of me, Nicolas is pulling a strange face, it looks as if during my dream a kind of apocalypse has befallen the island, a meteorite has crashed right in the middle of the yard, a tsunami has uprooted the big oak.

Quick … I mustn’t go or my dream will fly away.

My dream takes place close by, but a long time from now, on Oscelluccia beach – I recognised the rocks, the sand, the shape of the bay. They are still the same. But not me, I’ve grown old. A grandmother. The rest isn’t the same either. Strange buildings have sprouted among the red rocks, built with weird materials, almost transparent, like in science fiction – a bit like the ones Maman designs. Only the pool looks the same as today, a big pool and I’m dipping my wrinkled old feet into it.