MORNING SERIAL

“SURE,” I said. “I’ve had a really nice afternoon.” And I had meant it.

“Me too,” she said.

We stopped for half an hour for some coffee and cake on the way back down the mountain, and the whole place was beginning to feel less and less Mediterranean and more Appalachian or something like that – firs and chipmunks and picnic benches. Lou laughed and she elaborated on stories of the Russian Mafia and its ties to the “Famagusta tunnel”, and how the armed guards were actually hunting for signs of criminal gangs hiding away. But she said, without laughing, that there were also stories of some people living in Famagusta who had never left, they had refused to abandon their homes.

“People would surely know that though,” I said. “I mean, you couldn’t hide for thirty years in an abandoned town, especially if the military were looking for you.”

“I don’t know,” said Lou. “As I say, this is a crazy island. What you see is more than you can possibly understand, and you don’t see the half of it.”

THIRTEEN

As I dropped Lou back off at her digs, I found myself telling her that I wished to see her again. I had to trust myself that I didn’t sound romantic, but I may have done. I called Clare when I got back to the house but there was no answer and the message I left her was perfunctory – Just checking in, hope everything is good with you, will call tomorrow.

However, when I went to call at Lou’s room the next day – we arranged to get some food in Napa before she started work – there was no answer there either.

I persisted, peeked through the slatted window and sought out someone who looked like a janitor and asked for information, but there was none to be had, and so I walked out into the glaring heat of the main drag and decided that rather than return to the tower and the solitude of that strange occupation of mine, I would instead go and amble around in the sun for an hour or two, clear my head.

> The Golden Orphans by Gary Raymond is published by Parthian www.parthianbooks.com

CONTINUES TOMORROW