Page 90 of Someone in the Water
And he hopes the jumper softens his landing, because he’s falling now. Sinking into the Corsican soil.
I am bequeathing you the thing I have loved most in my lifetime. It came to me in the embers of my life, but I have treasured it ever since, and I know that you will too.
Suddenly Patrick knows what his grandfather was passing on to him. Not this vineyard. Something that came to him much later, courtesy of the letter.
A clean conscience.
God, he wished he’d paid more attention.
Frankie
1st August
‘No, no, no, no,’ Raphael moans. ‘Don’t you dare die on me!’
I look at the gun by Raphael’s side. He flung it there when he found Patrick, his son’s torso shredded by the bullet meant for me. I want to grab it, but it’s so close to Raphael’s hand. And I’m shaking so much I’d probably drop it.
Raphael crouches down, puts his ear by Patrick’s mouth, his face reddening with shame and anger. Then he pulls back and shakes his son. As the body flops in his grasp, he releases a strangled scream, like the bray of a wild animal rising into the night sky. Then he picks up the gun and pushes to standing. His hands are trembling but he’s only a couple of metres away, too close to miss.
‘Get up!’ he screams. ‘This is your fault! My son is dead because of you!’
I rise slowly to my feet, but from somewhere deep in my belly, injustice rises too. Twenty-one years of hating myself for something this man caused. This man who’s about to kill me. ‘No, he’s dead because of you, Raphael!’ I shout. ‘You shot your own son, just like you strangled Archie with his own belt and then hanged him from a tree! But all I care about is whether Patrick is like you, a monster. Has he hurt Lola, Raphael? Has he killed her?’
‘You think I care about your daughter?!’ Raphael screams back. His face is contorted; tears stream down his cheeks. He’s still enraged, but bewildered too. Like he’s out of his depth.
A sudden realisation hits me.
Patrick orchestrated this. It was Patrick who brought Lola to the vineyard, not Raphael. And Patrick who has charmed Lola into staying in Corsica, and persuaded her to visit Sartène tonight. Did he draw Raphael here too? To kill me?
‘Who called you tonight in the bar?’ I demand. ‘Was it Patrick?’
‘He called to warn me; to tell me you were going to tell the police about Archie. He came through for me when it mattered.’
‘I didn’t know anything about you killing Archie until you told me,’ I hiss. ‘I’ve never talked about going to the police.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Your son played you. Getting you to come here and kill me. I don’t know why he wanted me dead, but he clearly wanted you to do his dirty work.’ Silently I wonder if that means Lola is alive, if I can hope.
‘He wouldn’t!’
‘Why was he here then?’ I go on. ‘Spying on you?’
‘No.’ Raphael shakes his head, but manically, like he’s trying to rid his mind of my logic. ‘He’s my son. He loves me.’
‘But he was closer to Salvo, wasn’t he?’ I say, things starting to fall into place. ‘And Salvo hated you for what you did. That’s why he moved away, isn’t it? He couldn’t bear to look at you. And it’s why he gave Jack half his vineyard, and left Izzy’s mum the rest.’
‘My father?! Hah! He was the most ruthless of us all!’
‘And Patrick hated you too,’ I finish.
‘You need to shut up now.’ Raphael releases the catch on the trigger, takes a breath.
I look at the barrel. I suck in air, but I can’t release it. This is it.
A gun sounds. A thud. Raphael drops to the ground, blood spreading from his head. I spin around and my eyes widen.
‘Jack?’
