2.4
With a mug of tea in hand, Yvette sat on the balcony floor, back against the wall, warming her legs in the morning sun, and squinting at the small ads in the local newspaper she’d bought in the supermarket yesterday. A Turkish café in Leederville was looking for waitresses. She pushed aside her misgivings, based on a rather superficial loyalty to the original inhabitants of her beloved island, Malta. She’d acquired a tendency to be wary of all things Turkish, largely from Carlos who held a number of bombastic prejudices, especially towards those descendants of the Ottoman Empire. She knew at the time her attitude was ludicrously inconsistent. Following that path, she ought to be wary of the French, the Lebanese and anyone from England. And she was hardly inclined to be wary of herself
