Page 78 of Someone in the Water
After all, I’m not going tonight out of respect for Salvo. Or to see the town my father grew up in.
I’m going to watch over my daughter. To prove to her that I am her protector, not Patrick nor anyone else. Never mind that I can barely see from tiredness.
Maybe I’ll find out who took Lola’s travel documents too, but I’m not sure how much I care about that anymore. It’s too late.
When I flew to Corsica on Sunday morning, I had one job. To get Lola home before the anniversary. But here I am, heading to the town most indelibly linked with the mazzeri, on the legend’s most important night. Lola is barely speaking to me, someone is threatening to kill us, and Dom – the one person I thought I might be able to trust – might have been lying to me for years. And for what reason? An obsession? Or to find out what I remember about that night?
When I think about the online conversations I’ve had with my dealer, Nick Daniels, the details I’ve confided, it makes me feel sick. Because it has to be him. Dominic. Nick. How could I have not seen it before?
Does that also mean he slipped those notes under my door? It would explain how he knew to use the mazzeri legend to scare me. But I’ve also told Nick how much it felt like an assault in the moment, how forcefully I was pulled under the water. Have I put myself in danger?
‘You okay, Mum?’
I open my eyes. Lola has twisted around in the front passenger seat and is looking at me. I gather my hair off my face and force a smile. I need to pretend I’m in control of myself for her sake.
‘Did you get some sleep earlier?’
‘Yes, some,’ I lie. ‘I’m feeling much better.’ The intense relief on Lola’s face makes me want to cry.
‘That’s good. The views are spectacular, aren’t they?’
I turn my head to take in the scenery. Patrick has started climbing the mountain road to Sartène and I can see for miles. A patchwork of pea green fields, craggy rocks, and darker woodland, with peaks and valleys that blur in the hazy evening sunshine. Lola’s right, it is stunning. But it’s also frightening. A rugged, alluring landscape that is full of promise, but only for those strong enough to face down its threats.
‘Did you ever visit Sartène when you worked here?’ Patrick asks without taking his eyes off the road.
‘No, I never got around to it,’ I mumble. The truth is, his grandfather put me off exploring my heritage, but I’m not going to tell him that.
‘It’s an impressive town. And you’ll be able to taste some of this season’s wine fresh from the barrel. I promise, you’ll love it.’
Patrick’s comment takes me back to Raphael’s office, and Salvo’s will. ‘Is that from your grandfather’s vineyard?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ Patrick says, nodding. ‘I spent my summer holidays at my grandparents’ house when I was growing up, so I hung out at the vineyard a lot. When I was older, Salvo taught me how to harvest the grapes, and I’d watch them being pressed. One day I’d like to have a vineyard of my own.’
I bite my lip. Does Patrick think he’ll inherit Salvo’s share of the vineyard? Maybe Raphael hasn’t told him what’s in the will. I wonder how he’ll feel about his grandfather leaving it to someone outside the family.
‘Like your grandfather?’ Lola asks.
‘Yeah, exactly. Although he only owned half his vineyard; he had a business partner.’
‘Don’t tell me, it’s your dad.’
Patrick laughs. ‘No, for once my father didn’t get his greedy fingers on my grandfather’s assets.’
Lola laughs along with him, so this dislike of his father can’t be news to her. But it jolts me. Family is everything in Corsica, so seeing him so blatantly criticise Raphael is a shock.
‘He’s not really built for Sartène though; it’s too authentic for him. He belongs in Porto Vecchio with its flashy tourists and their corrupting euros.’
Despite myself, my mouth lifts into a half-smile at the image. ‘So who is Salvo’s business partner?’ I ask. I don’t add that whoever it is, they’re going to have to get their heads around working with a grieving French mother in her sixties.
Patrick looks into the rear-view mirror and our eyes catch. He looks conflicted, and I wonder why. Then he shifts his gaze back to the road. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ he asks.
‘I guess.’ I look over at Lola, try to read her expression. But she’s facing forward now.
‘Salvo’s partner is Jack, but my father doesn’t know, so keep it to yourselves.’
‘Jack?’
‘Yeah, I know. It is odd.’
