‘My Moroccan garden,’ he said. ‘My wife and I wentto Marrakech on our honeymoon, and I promised her I would build her one.’
‘Did she love it?’
He shook his head. ‘Filomena died before I got round to doing it. So many things I should have done and then it was too late.’
She glanced at the pretty jewel-like colours of the tiled floor – blue, white, ochre and turquoise. They surrounded the cup-shaped fountain and also rose halfway up the walls while patterned terracotta tiles paved the edges of the courtyard where two rectangular sections had been planted with orange trees. The sight of it lifted her heart. Over by the archway two giant palms in terracotta pots stood sentinel like exotic birds, their wings stretched out either side as if ready to take flight. She detected a scent that seemed to waft all around her.
‘What?’ she asked, sniffing the air.
He smiled and pointed at some white blooms that grew around the fountain. ‘Angel’s trumpets.’
‘The scent is heavenly.’
‘It’s good to see you looking happier,’ he said.
‘How could I not? This is paradise.’
‘And that’s plumbago,’ he said, glancing over at the archway. ‘I trained it to shade the alcove beyond. It’s an evergreen.’
‘You did the work here?’
‘Some of it … until my arthritis got the better of me.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it may surprise you to know that I am in my late seventies. I don’t usually admit it. Eitherway, the arthritis is creeping, hips, spine and so on, but the worst thing is that it’s happening in my fingers and wrists.’
‘Can I do anything to help?’
He seemed to study her face before saying, ‘Maybe.’
Absorbed by her thoughts, she hung back as he headed for the archway where a white sofa with pretty patterned cushions sat in the shady alcove. She glanced back at the garden and inhaled the scent again, but Addison turned right and opened another door.
‘This place is a rabbit warren,’ she said.
‘More than you realise.’
They entered a small and rather gloomy hall which opened onto a bedroom and a bathroom, both painted a pinkish terracotta but with high windows from which you could only see the sky. He flicked a switch and a lamp burst into light, making the walls glow as if lit from within, and she saw an embroidered Moroccan wall hanging behind the bed.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘How lovely.’
‘I bought that in Marrakech. As you know the electricity on the island is limited so a part of this little place is lit only by oil lamps. We’ll go up now,’ he said.
Back in the hall she saw a spiral staircase in the corner. ‘I didn’t spot that before.’
‘I hadn’t turned the light on. You go first.’
She climbed the stairs which led straight into a large bright kitchen with a dining table at one end. She felt puzzled by this charming, but odd, little upside-down house.
‘There’s a refrigerator,’ he boasted. ‘American of course, made by General Electric. Carry on up.’
She did and when she reached the top she gazed around in surprise. A spacious, high-ceilinged sitting room decorated in the palest blues and greens overlooked the landscape of Malta. Delicate silk scarves hung over two large lamps. Strings of silvery beads hung from a mirror and embroidered cushions were stacked up on a navy blue sofa. There was no large terrace beyond, just double glass doors that opened onto a balcony just big enough for one small cast iron table and two chairs with a tiny pergola above them for shade.
‘Do you like it?’
She smiled. ‘I adore it. But it’s so odd. I’ve never seen a house with just one room on each floor.’
‘I’ve arranged for coffee and pastries if you’d like to follow me.’
