I had not expected him to be gone quite so long, for the midnight bells had just sounded from St Marco’s across the street from the Tamarind. Hidden in shadow on the balcony, I had watched him leave as night fell and there had seemed little point in my dressing again, so I lay n***d and uncovered in the heat trapped inside the room from the afternoon sunshine. The candles were all alight, waiting for him. I wished I could snuff them as I could not find sleep with so much light.
The street outside was quiet now, with only an occasional shout carried on the breeze from the less salubrious streets and alleyways where Raphael, no doubt, used his potent charm upon serving wenches and idle w****s alike. Or, indeed, upon anyone susceptible who might have the information we sought. Charles Grant
