Sherry had quietly warned her as Zoe had eaten her
breakfast of warm rol s, flower-scented honey, and thick, creamy yoghurt.
Now she paused, hitching the cream canvas bag that held her towel, sun
lotion and paperback novel into a more comfortable position on her
shoulder.
Even though she'd been waiting for this moment, she was sorely tempted to
walk on. To let the past rest in peace. To go with the flow, and let herself be
absorbed effortlessly into Thania's languorous charm. To simply have a
much-needed vacation.
But that would not quel the wondering; she told herself. And when she got
back, and saw Gina's picture newly framed and hanging in her bedroom,
she might kick herself for wasting a golden opportunity.
She turned with renewed determination, and plunged down the rutted track.
It led down through a grove of olive trees, and, although it was stil
comparatively early in the day, she was grateful for their silvery shade. The
air was very stil , and the cloudless sky had a faintly misty look that
promised soaring temperatures to come.
She was wearing a thin, floating sundress, sleeveless and scoop-necked, in
gentian-blue, over a matching bikini, and her hair was piled up in a loose
knot on top of her head.
She rounded a steep bend in the track, and saw, beyond the shelter of the
olive grove, the more vivid green of grass and colourful splashes of flowers.
Not the desolate wilderness she'd half expected. And a little further on, set
like a jewel in the, encircling garden, was the house, all immaculate white
wal s and terracotta roof.
Zoe paused, her hand tightening unconsciously round the strap of her bag.
Immediately in front of her was the turquoise gleam of a swimming pool,
from which a flight of broad, shal ow steps led up to sliding glass doors.
Behind these was a low, pil ared room like an atrium, cool with marble and
towering green plants, and furnished with comfortable white chairs and
loungers.
Trying not to feel too much like an intruder, Zoe skirted the pool, climbed the
steps and tried the doors, but they were securely locked.
It's like looking into a showcase, she thought as she walked on. You can
admire, but not touch.
And halted abruptly, her heart jolting as she reached the foot of another
flight of steps, so immediately familiar she could have climbed them in her
sleep. Pale steps, she recognised breathlessly, dusty with the faded
blossoms of the bougainvil ea that cascaded down the side of the house.
Steps that led up to a terrace, its balustrade supporting a large stone urn,
heavy with clustering flowers. As she'd known there would be. And beyond
that the dreamy azure of the sea.
She steadied herself, then, quietly and cautiously, she climbed up to the
terrace. She found herself standing on a broad sweep of creamy marble that
ran the entire length of the house. Stone troughs massed with more flowers
marked the length of the waist-high balustrade, while below it, from a gated
opening, another curved flight of steps led down through cypress trees
standing like sentries to a perfect horseshoe of pale sand, and the vivid blue
ripple of the sea.
Behind her, shuttered glass doors masked the ground floor rooms
completely. But what had she expected? The place laid open for her
inspection, and a welcome mat waiting?
I should have gone to see a lawyer, she told herself restively, walking along
the terrace. Had the whole legal situation checked out. Approaches made.
She found the main entrance round the corner, a solid wooden door, heavily
carved, and growing beside it, in festoons of blooms that softened the dark
wood and white wal s, an exquisite climbing rose, its petals shading from
creamy yel ow to deep gold.
Zoe found herself thinking of the shower of radiance in which Zeus had
come to Danaë in the legend, then told herself she was being fanciful.
Whoever had planted the garden had simply loved roses, that was al . The
troughs and urns along the
Richard Ellis Preston Jr.