up a chip of stone, and threw it down at the men, and the two faces turned up to see who it was, and saw Tomeu and smiled.
â Hombre, Tomeu!â
He replied with some impudent back-chat, for they laughed and then went back to their work. Beneath Selinaâs hands the stone wall was warm, and some of the white-wash had smudged off on to the front of her dress, like chalk from a blackboard. She turned to sit on the wall, with her back to the sea, and saw the washing-line, slung between two hooks, with a row of bone-dry wrinkled clothes. A faded blue work-shirt, a pair of bathing-trunks, some white ducks with patches on the knees, and a pair of old tennis shoes worn to a shred and tied over the line by their laces. The terrace also sported a few articles of furniture, but not the House & Garden type. A ratty old cane chair and a wooden paint-chipped table and the sort of booby-trap deck-chair that collapses when you sit in it. She wished that she could speak Spanish and talk to the friendly Tomeu. She wanted to ask about Señor Dyer. What sort of a man was he? Which of the yachts was his? When did Tomeu think he would be back from San Antonio? But before she could start up any sort of communication with him, the sound of Toniâs returning taxi came like a knell of doom. It stopped by the door and in a moment Toni came into the house, looking ill-tempered and more villainous than ever. Selina had to tell herself that he couldnât eat her. She said, firmly, âSeñor Dyer is not back.â
Toni received this information in frigid silence. Then he produced a toothpick and delved about at a troublesome back molar. He wiped the toothpick on the seat of his pants, put it back into his pocket and said, âWhat the hell we do now?â
âI shall wait here. He canât be long. Rudolfo said that he wouldnât be long. And you can either wait here too, or you can leave me your name and address and return to San Antonio. Either way I shall see that you get paid.â
Unconsciously she spoke in her grandmotherâs voice, and to her own surprise, it worked. Toni resigned himself to the situation. He sucked his teeth for a moment or two more and than announced his decision.
âI shall wait too. But not here. At the hotel.â
There was cognac at the hotel and he could have a siesta in the taxi, beneath the shade of the tree. It was half past two already and he did not enjoy being awake at half past two. âWhen Señor Dyer is here, you can come and tell me.â
Selina could have hugged him in relief, but she only said, âVery well, Iâll certainly do that.â And then added, because he looked so despondent, âI am sorry this has happened, but it will be all right.â
He shrugged hugely, sighing, and went back to his car. They heard him start up and drive back over the hill towards the Cala Fuerte hotel. Selina had time to think âPoor Rudolfo,â and then she went back to Tomeu.
âI stay here,â she told him.
He frowned. âUsted aquÃ.â
âYes. Here.â She pointed to the ground. Tomeu grinned his comprehension and went to collect his empty baskets.
âGood-bye, Tomeu, and thank you.â
â Adiós, Señorita.â
He was gone, and Selina was alone. She went out on to the terrace and told herself that she was waiting for her father, but it was still not quite believable. She wondered if he would know, without being told, who she was. And if he did not know, she wondered how she would tell him.
It was very hot. The sun beat down on to the sheltered terrace, and she could not remember ever having been so hot. Her nylon stockings and her leather shoes and her woollen dress became, all at once, unbearable. They were no longer sensible, but unsuitable to a degree that was lunatic.
But Grandmother couldnât stand bare legs, even with a summer dress, and gloves she considered essential. You can tell a lady by her
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