‘What does he want you to do?’
‘Initially just to inspect the place for bomb damage. See if the place is still sound.’
‘And then?’
‘Well, I gather he has great plans for it although I don’t yet know what, or if he’ll hire me to be the architect.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t ask you if he wasn’t going to use you?’
‘Maybe. He’s rich. Has property all over the world and before the war was developing a network of exclusive hotels.’
‘The place must be big then?’
‘It may just be his own place. He’s being cagey. Wants me to get in touch when I know what’s what.’
‘Best figure out if the ferries have a timetable, then. For when we come back.’
The little fishing boat bobbed about on a dazzling azure sea and before long it was discharging them onto a narrow jetty. Florence clutched her canvas bag and smelt the saltyseaweed air while Jack arranged for a cart to take them to their destination.
The island was dusty and mountainous. Dear God, she thought, as they set off, where has he brought me? Malta seemed further away than ever. The driver sat astride the donkey pulling the cart along a stony path – you couldn’t call it a road – past the occasional bleak farmhouse. Then it rattled and jolted along narrower dirt trails that ran up and over the parched hills. All she could see were endless ochre crags rising higher and higher as they left the sea behind. The wind was alive, blowing dust into her eyes and she rubbed them, only making the stinging worse.
Jack noticed. ‘You okay?’
She nodded but her spirits were sinking.
‘Bad time of year,’ he said over the noise of the wheels rolling and bumping over the stones. ‘Dry. Looks greener in the north east.’
She turned away and kept her eyes closed. Would any time of year here be better?
They reached the peak of the mountain they’d been climbing and then began the descent through the sun-bleached landscape. She opened her eyes wide. ‘Oh,’ she said and drew in her breath at the sight of the sea. It seemed endless and such a deep violet blue.
He grinned to see her surprise.
They jolted down the hill and she saw volcanic cliffs plunging into the sea where brightly coloured fishing boats bobbed about.
‘Should be plenty of fish,’ Jack said.
‘Man cannot live on fish alone,’ she said and smiled at him.
They arrived at a long tree-lined track, road, she wasn’t sure what, leading back towards the mountains again but flat here. She spotted a tanned workman in a long leather apron who waved at their driver. Could you call a man on a donkey a driver? The drive, she decided it was a drive, was now lined with sculptures on squat columns, some of them damaged, and then she saw it.
She whistled in amazement.
A mansion, for that is what it appeared to be, was coming into view.
The driver spoke in guttural Sicilian and Jack said. ‘I think he’s telling us it used to be a palace and, but for a housekeeper, it has been unoccupied for decades.’
The two-storey terracotta and cream building spread out before them in a long, high rectangle. She counted the first-floor windows, all with delicate wrought-iron railings. Ten? No. Twelve. At least twelve. All of them with their canvas blinds down but held away from the windows on rods at the bottom to allow air into the rooms.
The man steered the cart round to the side of the house which turned out to be the front.
Jack helped Florence climb down.
She felt suddenly exuberant, a feeling that had been absent for some time. Something important was waiting for her here, she knew it.
Florence looked up at the main doorway of the grand house. It was on the first floor with two large windows either side and surrounded by ornate stonework with abalcony in front. From the balcony a staircase descended on both sides curving to the front. Beneath the main door, tall gates enclosed a huge archway. The stone of the building shone like gold in the bright sunshine, purple bougainvillaea crept up the walls and a strong scent of lemons wafted in the aromatic air. Herbs too she thought, certainly thyme, mint, rosemary. She inhaled deeply and pinched her arm. Could this place be real? Behind the house the volcanic mountain rose, magnificent, pink, hazy, and when she turned the other way, she saw the smudge of silvery sea glinting not far away.
Jack looked almost as surprised as she was.
