‘Orsu will be fine. I’m defending him. I’m his lawyer. Orsu is innocent!’

Cassanu set down his glass.

‘Innocent?’ he said with a hint of a smile that disappeared as he wiped the napkin over his lips.

That’s right, treat me like a little girl! Well, apologies to your poor heart, Papé, and apologies to your stove, Mamy, but I’m about to put my foot right in it!

‘Innocent,’ Clotilde repeated, raising her voice. ‘Orsu couldn’t hurt an ant. I know, and not just because he’s my brother.’ She paused to assess the effect of the bomb she had just dropped. ‘I know because he was the only one who loved my mother. He was the only one who helped her all these years.’

A petrifying bomb, Clotilde thought to herself. Six hands froze. Bodies mummified. Only the lentils, the thyme and the bay simmered away in the pot, abandoned by the witch who seemed turned to stone.

‘I want the truth, Papé, I beg you. Tell me what happened.’

Cassanu Idrissi hesitated for a long time. He looked over at Speranza, Lisabetta, the pot, the wine bottle, the bread, the four plates, the knife, then finally pushed his chair back.

‘Come on, then. Follow me.’

~

This time Cassanu was careful to bring his walking stick with him. They left the yard and headed towards a path lined with black elders that rose up behind the farm. Passing in front of the kitchen window, they heard the carillon of plates being washed. He turned towards his granddaughter.

‘Four plates … that’s only the beginning of the end. Those two mad old women will have to get used to eating on their own, I won’t be around for much longer. That’s how it is, it’s the fate of women, to look after men who leave, to accompany them, wait for them, visit them. Choose a house near a school when they are young, near a cemetery when they are old.’

Clotilde merely smiled. For a moment she thought of taking her grandfather’s hand, but Cassanu pointed at the path ahead of them.

‘Don’t worry, we’re not going to climb Capu di a Veta, even if Dr Pinheiro is a dunce. My legs will go on walking even after my heart has stopped. I’ll explain everything, Clotilde, and show you Corsica as we go, its history will help you understand ours. Come now, and tell me what those two old crazies have told you.’

They proceeded along the narrow path. Clotilde told him what she had just learned, about her father’s mistress and the secret child, what had happened on the evening of 23 August, Salomé taking her mother’s place, the accident, Lisabetta’s fears over the last words Palma had uttered.

Cassanu nodded.