‘Your mother went to join her lover. You understand, Clotilde, this shed a whole other light on the events leading up to the accident. In front of us all, in the Arcanu yard, in front of Salomé, your mother had played the victim, she had recited the soliloquy of the humiliated wife. For the entire holiday, she had been obsessed with Saint Rose’s day and her famous anniversary meal with your father at Casa di Stella, but it was nothing but theatre. Your mother desired only one thing: Natale Angeli! At the time, my darling, I almost listened to you. You had me convinced, up there, and I could easily have agreed to let him have a scrap of land for his dolphins. My poor dear, you too were nothing but a pawn. Those two were accomplices, even if I never had any proof as regards Angeli. Was he in on his mistress’s plan? Was he involved in my son’s murder? Could he have prevented it? If he was involved then yes, of course, I could have had him executed. I started threatening him, trying to extract a confession from him, to know for sure. Perhaps I frightened him too much. The coward went and married Aurélia, Cesareu’s daughter. Sergeant Garcia turned a blind eye to many things in this corner of the island, but he would never have ignored the murder of his son-in-law. Over time, I’m not going to tell you that I forgave Natale Angeli, oh no, but I did reach the conclusion that he had been manipulated as well. That the drunkard, behind that handsome face of his, didn’t have the balls to be a murderer. Or even an accomplice.’

Clotilde took her grandfather’s arm.

‘An accomplice in what?’

Cassanu didn’t reply but continued walking. With every metre they climbed, the path opened up to the east, on the boundary between the maquis and the villas of Calvi, flanked by their pools and their balconies overlooking the Mediterranean.