It was as if she was gnawing at some wrong bone. Could her parents’ separation really be what troubled her? Or was it her father’s suicide?

“You’d never felt this before?”

“It was like a pool of water that came seeping under the door. Before, it always went back. But now – now I feel there’s no stopping the flood.”

“Why now?”

“Because in the end a point is reached when the truth has to be spoken.”

He pointed to the smudged-out city. “Are you saying Lima caused you to see this?”

“No, Tom, not just Lima.” She stepped away, facing the rubbish slopes, so he was unable to see her expression. She folded her arms and her voice was tired. “You can’t tell the truth without destroying the aura of family life. I married Adam because he brought me a patch of sunlight. I don’t think he could handle that – well, that’s what it is – darkness.”

“You think I can?” He was touched.

“Oh Tom,” she spun around, and he saw confusion lapping at her eyes. “Just being able to talk. It’s been such a boon, you can’t imagine. I’ve not been able to say this before.”

It was his turn to sound awkward. “It doesn’t have to end here, you know.”

“But I leave tomorrow.”

“We can write. Why can’t we write?”

“Would you write to me?” She was animated. “Oh, would you? I would, write back, I promise.”

“I’ll give you our address in London.”

They walked back to the car and she held his arm again. “I feel you’re somebody I can say anything to.”

As if to a child, Wavery replied, “And I would like to be somebody for the rest of your life.” He knew if he was not careful he could be somebody completely different. But he was a careful man, a diplomat who had made a marriage vow. He was able to stop just there, on a clifftop in Barranco, not laying a finger on her.

Chapter Six

1

SENATOR ZAMORA HAD arrived home late from the baths. He had forgotten that Wavery was invited for drinks. When Asunción reminded him he opened his cupboard and surveyed the cardigans hanging there.

He possessed three cardigans, knitted by his late wife in three separate colours and he wore them according to his moods.

A purple cardigan, such as he had worn to Cap Spartel, indicated he was happy. Senator Zamora wore this on the days he spent at the Museo de Arqueología near the harbour where he was employed part time as a director and where he enjoyed nothing so much as to work on his thesis.

Senator Zamora’s thesis was something endured by the Zamora household for as long as anyone in it could remember. The thesis was supported by a simple proposition. It argued the case for Abyla as an important Phoenician city when Athens was an unwalled settlement.

In Abyla, Senator Zamora believed, the Peoples of the Sea had perfected their alphabet. In Abyla they had recognised in an ox-head the possibility of the letter “A” thereafter giving all men access to learning – even their ox-headed Governor, Sexto Menendez.