‘It was so provocative, my darling. Such a humiliation for Palma. None of it was premeditated on our part, but we did nothing to stop her. I even joined in, to tell you the truth, and poured Salomé a glass of wine. How could your mother respond to this girl who was taking her place as if she had never existed? This girl who was attacking her without saying a single word? What could your mother say, my darling? Nothing, like the rest of us? You remember her, Clotilde, saying nothing wasn’t really her style. Your mother got up, I remember it as if it were yesterday, I remember each word, each breath, each sound. We’ve weighed up every one since then, believe me. Not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about it again, when I haven’t wondered if it wasn’t the greatest folly of our lives.’

Clotilde was shivering with cold. Even though she was sitting down, her head was spinning. She rested her frozen fingers on the immaculate tiles of the nearest wall.

‘Your mother pushed back her chair,’ she went on, ‘turned towards your father and simply said, “Tell her to leave.” Your father didn’t say anything, so your mother repeated, in a louder voice, “Tell her to leave.”

‘All the cousins, the whole family, all the friends were looking at him. All hostile to your mother. All against him if he took her side. “Don’t ask me to do that, Palma. I’m here, in my home. With my family. You tell her to leave.”

‘I still remember the silence, my poor Clotilde. Even the birds, even the wind in the branches of the oak tree had fallen silent. Your father took such a long time to answer, as if his whole life depended on it. Which it did, of course. Finally he said, “Please, Palma. This isn’t easy for anyone. We’ve all got to make an effort.” When I think of your mother’s face, I can still see her fury. We all saw it, that look. Of anger. Of hatred. And that clinched it. Only your father didn’t notice, I think. Losing his wife didn’t matter in that moment, he wasn’t afraid of losing Palma. At that moment the only thing he was afraid of was losing his honour in front of his family. Then he added, “We all have to make an effort. Me. You. Tonight I’m leaving my family behind in order to spend the evening with you.” And she said, “An effort? Today?”

‘Then Palma pushed over the chair in front of her, the nearest vase of yellow roses and a bottle of Clos Columbu. Maybe you heard some of the noise at that moment, some shouting? Maybe you woke up?’

Clotilde saw herself shrugging, turning up the volume of her Walkman, sinking back into her dreams.