Page 45 of Someone in the Water

Lola

An hour and a half later, their plates have been cleared, and Lola calculates that enough wine has been drunk for her to turn the conversation towards Izzy.

‘I guess it’s not long now until the anniversary of Izzy’s death,’ she starts, her eyes flitting between their faces as subtly as she can manage.

‘Thursday,’ Harriet says, nodding. ‘Two days after …’ She looks at Jack. ‘Never mind.’

‘Why are you talking about Izzy?’ Jack asks gruffly. Their eyes catch and Lola has the sense that he can see right through her. ‘It’s not like you knew her. Or were even born then.’

‘I guess I like murder mysteries,’ Lola says, flustered by the directness of his question.

‘But it wasn’t a murder,’ Dom reminds her. ‘It was a tragic accident.’

Raphael shifts in his chair and stares at Frankie. ‘We all know how she died.’

Shit. This isn’t going according to plan.

Lola needs to steer the conversation away from her mum.

‘Isn’t the anniversary the same day as the gathering you’ve organised for Salvo?

’ The question is partly to change the subject, but she has also been thinking about the coincidence, and whether it implicates Raphael.

Except why would he draw attention to Izzy’s death if he was involved in it?

Is there any chance that Salvo killed her and confided in his son, and this gathering is some kind of macabre celebration of him getting away with it?

Raphael nods, crosses his forearms, and leans them on the table. ‘The 31st of July is an important date in Corsican history,’ he explains. ‘It’s just ancient folklore, but the old boys still like to believe in it.’ He pauses. ‘My father believed in it.’

‘Ah, you mean the famous mazzeri legend,’ Harriet says. ‘I still remember that gruesome procession on Bastille Day. I read up on the myth after that summer.’

Lola notices how colour drains from her mum’s face. Could Bastille Day be another difficult memory for her? She narrows her eyes in concentration. Didn’t that newspaper article say that Raphael’s uncle was shot dead on that night in another Corsican town?

‘Hang on,’ Harriet continues, turning to look at Frankie. ‘You were the expert back in the day, I seem to recall. Didn’t your dad used to tell you mazzeri stories when you were little?’

‘Yeah, sometimes,’ her mum mutters, threading her napkin between her fingers.

‘So what is the mazzeri legend?’ Lola asks, feeling left out.

‘The mazzeri are Corsican sorcerers with the power to kill people in their dreams,’ Jack says, with an icy tone. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Frankie?’

‘Actually no, that isn’t right,’ Raphael butts in impatiently.

Lola tilts her head. Why is Raphael coming to her mum’s rescue? She turns to look at Jack’s taut expression. Is he the real villain here after all?

‘You know, there’s an amazing painting of a mazzeri scene in the shop,’ Harriet says. ‘Have you seen it? Do you know the one I mean, Dom?’

‘No, sorry, I haven’t been in the shop in a while,’ Dom says. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why we’re arguing about Corsican folklore.’

‘I think some Corsicans use the legend to remind everyone how ruthless they can be,’ Anna says, looking sadly at her empty wine glass, then reaching for the bottle. ‘One of many excuses, that is.’

Raphael clicks his tongue and shakes his head, but he doesn’t challenge his wife.

‘What’s the significance of the 31st of July?’ Lola asks, trying to pull the conversation back to Izzy, the date of her death.

‘It’s the darkest night,’ Jack says. ‘When most of the killings take place.’

‘Again, you’re not explaining it right.’ Raphael’s voice rises a notch. ‘The legend goes that the mazzeri are most active on the night of the 31st of July. But they are prophets, not killers.’

‘Whatever,’ Jack says, wafting his hand like he’s bored. ‘I’m going to the bar for a drink.’ He pushes back his chair and stomps off without offering to buy drinks for anyone else around the table.

Raphael raises his eyebrows, then continues. ‘Dom is correct that it’s just a fantasy story, but Salvo saw it as more than that. So when Patrick suggested we have the gathering on Thursday, it felt like a good way to honour him.’

‘Did Izzy believe in the mazzeri?’ Lola asks. She knows it’s a stupid question, but she wants to start talking about Izzy again.

‘I told you,’ Harriet says. ‘It was your mum who knew most about the legend back then.’

‘Oh, it’s all so long ago,’ her mum says, wafting her hand in the air. ‘I haven’t thought about that story in decades.’

Her mum’s voice is light and dismissive, so Lola doesn’t understand why no one except Harriet can meet her eye.

‘Well personally, I’m looking forward to celebrating Salvo’s life on Thursday,’ Dom says.

‘I’m done with that date being all about Izzy’s death.

Especially with it coming two nights after the anniversary of Archie’s passing.

’ He shakes his head. ‘I still remember how happy he looked the last time I saw him.’

Her mum looks up. ‘At the waterfall? But Archie didn’t look happy at all. He left because of how bad he was feeling.’

‘No, not then: later. I couldn’t sleep because that cut on my head was throbbing like hell fire.

And when I went out to get some fresh air, I saw Jack and Archie down by the hut.

They were playfighting like a couple of schoolkids.

’ He sighs. ‘That’s why the news the next morning was such a shock.

But I guess people are past logic when they decide to take their own life. ’

Her mum turns towards Harriet, and they share a look. ‘What time was this?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe around two o’clock?’

‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ her mum goes on, a mix of confusion and shock on her face. ‘Izzy told me that Jack was in town all night.’

Dom raises his eyebrows. ‘You mean Izzy the pathological liar?’

Jack returns to the table and drops into his chair, making everyone jump. He swirls an ice cube in what looks like a glass of whisky. ‘Speaking ill of the dead again, Dom?’

‘I don’t remember you mourning her too much.’

Jack shrugs. ‘I asked her not to go swimming and she ignored me. It’s not my fault that karma got her.’

‘That’s why I didn’t go,’ Harriet says. ‘I felt it was disrespectful.’

‘I’m pretty sure you just didn’t want to get your hair wet,’ Dom murmurs.

‘Did you go swimming, Dom?’ Lola asks, pretending she doesn’t know.

‘Um, yeah. I took a bit longer to get in than the girls though, so I hadn’t swum that far when it all kicked off.’ Dom turns to Frankie. ‘Do you remember? I was still in the shallow water when you started screaming. I can’t remember when you got in, Raphael?’

‘After you, for sure,’ Raphael says. ‘It’s hard to remember exactly.’

‘You were on the beach too, weren’t you, Jack?’

Everyone, including Lola, turns to look at her mum, surprised by the hardness in Frankie’s voice.

‘When Raphael found Izzy,’ she goes on.

Jack bristles. ‘I came when I heard all the commotion. I didn’t go in the water.’

‘Why not?’ Lola asks. ‘Didn’t you want to help with the search?’

Jack’s face sours. ‘There were heaps of people looking by then. And I’d just had a shower; I didn’t want to get dirty again. Is that all right with you?’

Lola nods in response, then looks at her mum’s stricken face. Maybe it is time to drop the conversation. But she can’t help thinking that a shower gives Jack the perfect excuse for having wet hair.