Thin bands of high cloud stretched from north to south in an otherwise clear sky. Richard stood outside, sheltered by his partially enclosed porch. The wind snaked round the side walls of the house and ruffled his hair. The summer wind blew hard, harder than he was used to, yet invigorating. He was thankful there hadn’t been a calima since he’d arrived; he loathed it when the Saharan trade winds outwitted the ocean wind, storming in with fan-forced dryness and choking the island in dust. The sort of wind that makes a necessity of shuttered windows and internal courtyards. He looked past the drago trees to the mountains in the south. There were many excellent vantages from which to view this valley but he was in no doubt that he had one of the best, a satisfying mix of rooftops and fields r
