42
Monday morning was a glorious day, reaching twenty-five degrees by ten o’clock. It was the heat that woke Helen, who felt heavy-limbed from the explorations of the previous day and heavy-headed from the red wine she had drunk with Day before bed. There was no movement of the lace curtains meant to deter flies from her open window. For a while she just lay there, listening. The house was quiet and only the occasional car or motorbike passed on the road.
In his room at the other side of the house, Day was staring moodily at the ceiling. He had found it hard to get to sleep despite the excellent red wine of the night before. He had been kept awake, not by excitement at their discovery, but by a dark disquiet. He had considered Rania’s parting question and come up with answers he didn’t l
