Cassanu merely smiled. Nothing trembled, not his hands nor his voice.

‘In seventy years, Franck, the price of land in this rocky corner overlooking the sea has gone up by 800 per cent. Since they announced the construction of the marina it has doubled again. Almost 5,000 euros per square metre. So yes, Franck, everybody’s clearing off. And that will go on as long as Corsicans don’t have residential status. For every individual who spends a fortune on an apartment in that marina and comes to live here for two months a year, there are thirty local young people who can’t find a place to live. It’s too expensive! Even if they’re being given the option of diving into the water at the palace ten weekends a year.’

Cassanu had raised his voice slightly. Franck didn’t agree with the patriarch’s line of reasoning. Corsica wasn’t the only place to undergo property speculation. And the fine houses, the fine cars, the yachts and private jets, were the stuff of fantasy rather than a cause for complaint, even if he could never afford such luxuries himself.

But he didn’t reply, he didn’t want to have an argument with his wife’s grandfather. The most powerful man in the district, from what people said.

He turned towards the holm oak.

‘Are you coming back, Clo?’

‘Yes, I’ll be right with you.’

On the horizon, the ball of fire gently fell into the Mediterranean.

~

Valou groaned.

‘What are we doing, Maman?’

‘We’re waiting, just a bit longer.’

‘Until when?’

‘Until it gets dark.’

Ignoring her daughter’s sighs, Clotilde slowly scanned the surrounding countryside again. Slightly elevated on the knoll where the oak grew, she had a three hundred and sixty-five degree view.

Go and stand for a few minutes beneath the holm oak, before night falls, so that I can see you.

Was the author of the message watching her … watching them, her and Valou?

Who?

Where?

There were a million places she could be seen from: anywhere at all on the mountain, which formed a huge amphitheatre to the east and the south; by anyone hidden in the maquis with a pair of binoculars. Unless the watcher were somewhere close by, behind one of the windows overlooking the yard, in the barn to her right, the shed to her left, or in one of the shepherds’ huts scattered around the meadows that sloped gently towards the mountain range.

It could be anybody.

Anywhere.

‘Shall we go, Maman?’

The sun had drowned once and for all. It was hopeless; whoever the watcher was, they weren’t going to reveal themselves. They might still be watching if they had a pair of infra-red goggles.

It was pathetic! She was going mad. Cassanu and Lisabetta must have been wondering what she was doing there and Franck would curse her all evening for having abandoned him at the table with her grandfather.