A Dead Man in Malta (14 page)

‘That worries me,’ said Paolo. ‘It means that we Maltese hate each other more than we hate the British!’

‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Chantale. ‘You really hate the British?’

‘Yes,’ said Paolo shortly.

‘And you?’ Chantale said to Luigi. ‘Do you hate the British, too?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Luigi. ‘Anyone who is not Maltese.’

‘Is this just in football terms?’ asked Chantale.

She could see he did not understand her.

‘Generally,’ Paolo said for him.

‘Yes, generally,’ said Luigi.

He was not too bright, thought Chantale.

‘How’s the wound?’ she asked.

‘Fine, fine,’ said Luigi. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘You did a good job,’ Paolo said to Chantale.

‘I don’t really know much about it,’ confessed Chantale. ‘It’s just that I’ve done it once or twice before.’

‘Not in England,’ said Paolo.

‘No, in Tangier.’

‘Tangier’s a good place,’ said Paolo. ‘I might go there.’

‘You wouldn’t like the French,’ said Chantale. ‘They’re everywhere. Like the British here.’

‘But in Tangier they’re fighting the French!’ said Paolo. ‘Here, no one does anything!’

‘There’s less fighting in Morocco than you might think,’ said Chantale.

‘Not enough?’ asked Paolo.

‘Well—’

‘I ask because you are an Arab.’

‘Half Arab,’ said Chantale.

‘But you’re on the Arab side. You must be.’

‘I like the Arabs,’ said Chantale. She laughed. ‘So did my father. Perhaps too well.’

‘Ah, yes. It was like that, was it?’

‘They loved each other. My father and my mother. It would be better if it was always like that.’

Paolo was silent.

‘It wasn’t like that with my father and mother,’ he said. ‘She was Maltese and he was Arab?’

Paolo nodded. ‘That’s right, yes.’

‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’

Paolo shrugged. ‘It just made it complicated, that’s all.’

‘It
is
that, yes,’ said Chantale: ‘complicated. You don’t know which side to lean to. I find myself agreeing with both, with both the French and the Arabs. And also disagreeing with them. That, maybe, is why I drifted away—’

‘Like me,’ said Paolo.

‘—to England.’

‘Ah, England,’ said Paolo.

‘Don’t you find that?’ asked Chantale. ‘That you’re on both sides, Libyan and Maltese?’

‘Well, yes,’ said Paolo.

‘But not the British,’ Chantale laughed.

‘Not the British,’ said Paolo seriously.

‘Why?’

‘Because they’re British and not Maltese. And because they’ve taken over Malta. And because, well …’ He shrugged. ‘They look down on us. Whichever you are. Maltese or Arab. I worked on a ship. A Navy ship. As a steward. And they treated me like dirt! “I am as good as you!” I said. But they didn’t see it like that. And in the end I had to go.’

Seymour, walking round the pitch at half time to stretch his legs, came upon Cooper, Corke and Price.

‘What do you think of it, sir?’

‘Not bad,’ said Seymour. ‘Not bad at all.’

‘Better than usual,’ said Price. ‘We’ve been able to put a proper team out.’

‘
Amethyst
, I think you said?’

‘There’s three
Amethyst
players and they make a difference.’

‘Got to the finals in Hong Kong,’ said Price.

‘Not bad, then. But the other side’s not bad, either.’

‘Them Maltese is tricky devils!’

‘Do you see a lot of matches?’ asked Seymour.

‘Try to,’ said Corke.

‘Then you’re probably the blokes who can help me. There’s someone in the hospital that I’m interested in, who got injured in a match. I wondered if you saw it?’

‘What match was that, sir?’

‘I’m not sure of the match. The man was named Wilson.’

‘The one that was murdered, sir?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Bad do, that!’

‘He’d been injured in a match. I wondered if you saw it?’

‘We did, sir,’ said Price. ‘Corkey and me. Not him,’ nodding at Cooper.

‘I was somewhere else,’ said Cooper, ‘doing something much more interesting.’

He laughed.

‘And not too far away,’ said Price, laughing, too.

‘You could have come along,’ said Cooper.

‘We were more interested in the football,’ said Corke. ‘But, yes, we saw the match, sir.’

‘Did you see how he got injured?’

‘It was a foul. Their bloke went in on him.’

‘Hard,’ said Corke. ‘And late.’

‘It was meant,’ said Price.

‘He knew what he was doing when he went in like that,’ said Corke.

‘A bit of ill feeling, was there?’

‘More than a bit.’

‘Previous history? They’d played against each other before?’

‘It wasn’t that,’ said Price.

‘No?’

‘He was a mate of the other one.’

‘The other one?’

‘The one Bob got involved with.’

‘Bob?’

‘Bob Turner. Him who had his jaw smashed.’

‘Ah, yes. The one in the other ward.’

‘That’s right. He got murdered, too.’

‘Bastards!’

‘Sorry, can I get this straight? The one who went in on Wilson was a mate of the one who broke Turner’s jaw?’

‘It might not have been him who broke it. But he was there, all right, and the one who went in on Wilson was there with him. I saw them talking when I went in.’

‘They were mates?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what you’re saying is that Wilson’s injury in the match was a carry-on from the fight in the bar?’

‘Yes.’

‘So it all comes back to what happened in the bar?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And what actually started it in the bar?’

‘Well, we was in the bar, and Terry had just joined us—’

‘After my recreation,’ said Cooper.

‘—and this little bloke comes in, and he sees Terry, and he stops dead. Then he says something to one of the other Maltese. And the Maltese says something to Bob, and Bob says something back, and that’s how it all started.’

‘With the little bloke?’

‘That’s right. I reckon he’s a trouble-maker, because after that we didn’t see him—’

‘He’d gone for his knife,’ said Corke. ‘I heard him say it.’

‘Well, I didn’t hear anything because by that time it was a general barney.’

‘That was when Bob got hit,’ said Cooper.

‘I did see that,’ said Price. ‘At least, I saw him go down.’

‘He wasn’t up for it, really, because by that time he’d already had a skinful.’

‘He wasn’t big in it at all, and yet he was the one who got his jaw broke!’

‘And that wasn’t the end of it, either,’ said Cooper. ‘Because I don’t reckon they left it at that.’

‘Meaning?’ said Corke.

‘They went after them even when they was in hospital, didn’t they?’

The half-time interval came to an end and Paolo and Luigi rejoined their band. It struck up and, soon after, the second half began. The St John Ambulance stand had a steady, though small, trickle of visitors. Most of them seemed to be children with bruised knees. A few women had had ‘turns’. There was nothing serious; no stabbings on this occasion. Feelings, thought Chantale, were not very high, despite the sentiments that Paolo and Luigi had given utterance to.

And yet the match was closely fought. Coming towards the end, the score was two-all. The band raised its volume, the Maltese supporters urged on their team to a final effort. But the Navy held out. Two-all it remained, and that was the score at the final whistle.

The crowd began to disperse.

‘Now’s the time,’ said Inspector Lucca, ‘if there is going to be any trouble.’

He stood on a box to see better.

‘All right so far,’ he said with satisfaction.

Most of the sailors had prudently left just before the end. There was no show of defiance from either side. The players had left the field shaking hands. There seemed to have been no ‘incidents’.

Cooper, Corke and Price, typically, had not left before the end. Seymour caught sight of them pushing towards the exit, but peacefully. They appeared to be talking animatedly, but, he guessed, about the game, going over key moments.

On the far side of the pitch the Birgu band was breaking up. After a final blaze of music they had started to pack up their instruments. They began to melt into the crowd.

Seymour looked around for Chantale. She was helping the St John ladies to pack up their stall. He went across to help carry.

They made their way towards the exit, too. It was a small gap in a fence and the crowd funnelled together to get through it.

Seymour, carrying the Ambulance’s small card-tables, was approaching the gap when he saw Cooper, Corke and Price ahead of him. The crowd had slowed down almost to a stop and they were awaiting their turn peacefully.

Suddenly, there was an interruption in the flow. People began to move aside and there were a few shouts.

He saw Lucca pushing his way through the crowd.

The crowd swirled and then parted and in the gap he saw the three seamen again, no longer trying to get out but drawn up together and standing shoulder to shoulder in a short line.

Opposite them was a little group of Maltese and in the group, shouting angrily, his face contorted with rage, was Luigi.

‘You watch it, mate!’ Seymour heard Cooper say.

‘I will kill him! I will kill him!’ Luigi was shouting.

‘It’s that little bloke again!’ said Price, surprised.

‘What’s your problem, mate?’ said Cooper dangerously. ‘I will kill you!’

‘You’ll have a job!’

People were trying to pull Luigi away.

There were warning cries.

‘He’s got a knife!’

The crowd broke away, and suddenly there was Luigi on his own, going towards Cooper with a knife.

‘Watch it, mate!’ said Corke urgently. ‘He’s got a knife!’

‘Use your boots, Terry!’ cried Price.

They pushed forward beside Cooper.

Luigi, though, was on his own making short stabbing motions in the air with his knife. Suddenly, he lunged forward.

And was caught, equally suddenly, by someone who put an arm round his neck.

‘I will kill him! I will kill you—’ shouted Luigi, struggling to get free.

‘You’re not going to kill anybody,’ said Inspector Lucca. ‘Put your boot in, Terry!’ cried Corke. ‘Now! While you’ve got a chance!’

‘Cut it out!’ shouted Seymour. ‘You three! Stand back!’

‘I’ll bloody get him!’ said Cooper.

‘He’s under arrest!’ shouted Seymour, pushing the card-tables before him. ‘You keep out of it!’

‘He’s under arrest, Terry!’ said Price, warningly.

‘I will kill him!’ shouted Luigi, struggling in Lucca’s grasp.

‘Where the hell are you, Rico?’ cried Lucca.

‘Right here, boss! Right here!’ said someone forcing their way through the crowd.

‘Help me with this crazy bugger!’ said Lucca.

‘And you lot get out!’ shouted Seymour. ‘Get out! Get out of the ground! At once!’

He pushed the table between them and Luigi.

The seamen wavered. Then Cooper shrugged.

‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘This time.’

The other two linked arms with him and began to move away.

‘Let me get at him!’ shouted Luigi. ‘I will kill him!’

Cooper stopped and made a movement as if he was going to come back.

‘Keep going!’ shouted Seymour. ‘You other two, get him out!’

‘Come on, Terry,’ Price urged him.

They pulled him, unwilling, away.

Suddenly, Lucca cried out.

‘Boss!’ shouted Rico.

Luigi fell heavily to the ground.

‘The bastard got me!’ said Lucca, surprised.

‘I’ve bloody got him!’ said Rico. He bent over Luigi and Seymour heard the clink of the handcuffs going on.

‘Get the knife!’ whispered Lucca.

‘I’ve got it, boss,’ said Rico. ‘I’ve got him, too. Boss, are you all right?’

‘I’m all right,’ said Lucca. ‘It’s nothing. But I’ll remember this, Luigi, you daft bastard,’ he said.

Luigi, from the ground, began to whimper.

‘Sorry, Benito!’ he said. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to get you.’

‘Well, you bloody got me, Luigi,’ said Lucca. ‘And I shall remember that! Get this daft bastard away!’ he ordered.

Rico heaved Luigi on to his feet.

‘Luigi,’ he said. ‘You don’t have a knife any more. But I have a truncheon. And if I have any trouble from you, I’ll beat the hell out of you! Now, get going!’

He pulled Luigi off through the crowd.

‘Jesus!’ said someone, as they went through the gate. ‘What was all that about?’

‘Can we have a look at that, Benito?’ said one of the St John ladies.

‘It’s nothing, it’s nothing!’ protested Inspector Lucca.

‘We’ve got someone here who knows about knife wounds. Let her have a look at it.’

‘I don’t—’ began Chantale, but allowed herself to be pulled gently to one side, out of the way of the crowd. Lucca was pulled, too, still protesting.

Someone in the crowd found a chair and pushed the Inspector into it. Chantale bent over him and began to examine the wound.

‘I can get him over to the hospital,’ said Umberto, who had suddenly appeared. ‘It’s just round the corner.’

‘That would be a good idea,’ said Chantale. ‘It would be best to get a doctor to look at it. I just want to stop the bleeding.’

‘Pad, Miss de Lissac,’ said one of the St John ladies.

‘Bless you, ladies!’ said the Inspector. ‘I always knew, Margarita, that you weren’t just a waste of time!’

‘I wish I could say the same about you, Benito!’ retorted Margarita, proffering the pad. ‘Still getting yourself into these schoolboy scrapes! At your age!’

Chapter Ten

Early the next morning Seymour went to the Police Headquarters to find out how Lucca was.

‘He’s all right,’ said the man at the desk. ‘He’s a tough old bird. It’ll take more than this to kill him. In fact, he’s come in as usual. He’s in his office. Why don’t you go along and see him?’

Seymour found him sitting behind his desk.

‘No, I’m all right,’ he said. ‘It’s sore but not painful. He did an incompetent job, as usual. Waved it around but missed all the vital places. He probably never really meant to hit them anyway.’

‘I admire your broad-mindedness, Lucca.’

The Inspector shrugged.

‘Well, I know the little bastard,’ he said. ‘He’s mostly piss and wind. Never actually does anything when he gets to the point.’

‘He stabbed you, though.’

‘He probably didn’t even know it. When he’s put on the spot, he waves that knife around. They all do round here. But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s to frighten people. More than people frighten him, which is quite a lot. Especially in the case of that big sailor, who is about twice the size of Luigi. So when he went in on him, Luigi pulled his knife.’

‘I don’t think he actually went in on him. I was watching them. They were leaving peacefully.’

‘Were they? What the hell was Luigi doing, then?’

‘I think I know,’ said Seymour.

* * *

Luigi, small before, seemed to have shrivelled even since the previous day. He was sitting on his bed in the cell, his head in his hands, but jumped up when he saw Lucca.

‘Benito!’

He rushed forward and clutched him.

‘Benito,’ he said, looking at him anxiously. ‘You’re all right? I didn’t really look when you came in before, I was in such a state. But you really are all right, are you? Jesus. I wouldn’t have—you’ve got to believe me, Benito, I would never—Benito, I’ll light a candle for you!’

‘Well, thanks, Luigi,’ said Lucca.

‘I really will! Two!’

‘Now, steady, Luigi!’

‘And ask God to forgive me my sins.’

‘Well, that’s a good idea, Luigi.’

‘Even the thought! I’ll ask him to forgive me the thought. What I was doing, I don’t know. He made me mad, that Englishman. Just the sight of him. I would have killed him, but I would not do anything to hurt you, Benito, I really wouldn’t!’

‘Well, thank you, Luigi.’

‘You believe me, don’t you?’

‘All right, then, yes, I believe you.’

‘Oh, thank you, Benito! Thank you!’

‘I believe you didn’t mean to do it, Luigi. But you bloody nearly did do it.’

‘I lost my head. When I saw that big Englishman—’

‘Yes, well, that’s not right, either. You can’t go round sticking people with a knife. Whoever they are.’

Luigi hung his head.

‘Luigi,’ said Seymour, ‘exactly why did you want to kill the big Englishman?’

Luigi shook his head slowly from side to side and did not reply.

‘Come on, Luigi,’ said Lucca. ‘Why did you want to kill him?’

Luigi continued to shake his head and said nothing.

‘It was your girl, wasn’t it?’ said Seymour. ‘He had gone with your girl.’

Luigi’s eyes flashed.

‘I will kill him!’ he said.

‘Tell us about this girl,’ said Lucca.

‘She was my girl,’ said Luigi. ‘Before she was his!’

Lucca shook his head sorrowfully.

‘It happens, Luigi,’ he said. ‘It happens!’

‘Did you know what went on in the hospital?’ said Seymour. ‘In the cupboard?’

Luigi’s eyes flashed again.

‘It was wrong!’ he said. ‘She was my girl. She shouldn’t have gone with others.’

‘What do you think I was doing in there?’ said Cooper aggressively.

‘I know what you were doing in there,’ said Seymour. ‘I just want to know the rest.’

‘The rest?’

‘You were in the cupboard enjoying yourself while your mate was being killed next door!’

‘No, I wasn’t! I’d got out by then.’

‘How do you know?’

Cooper went silent.

‘How did you know?’

‘I didn’t know. Not at the time. I worked it out later.’

‘You must have been in there when it was happening.’

Cooper’s face worked.

‘Christ!’ he said. ‘Christ!’

‘Did you hear anything?’

‘No!’

‘See anything?’

‘No! Christ, if I had …’

‘If you had?’

‘I’d have fixed him. I’d have fixed him good. But I didn’t see anything,
anything
. I just crawled out and got out of the place fast.’

‘And you didn’t see anything?’

‘No, nothing!’

‘What time did you go into the cupboard with her?’

‘How do I know?’

‘Just tell me!’

‘A bit after midnight,’ said Cooper sullenly.

‘Was there a nurse on duty?’

‘She had her back turned—Suzie knows the ropes. She went in first, then beckoned to me. I went on hands and knees, so I was below the level of the beds and the nurse couldn’t see me.’

‘You’d done it before?’

‘Yes. I’d done it before.’

‘With the others? After you’d done the visiting?’

‘Sometimes. But not usually in the cupboard. She knew other places. She’s an artful bitch, she is.’

‘In daytime? After you’d done the rounds of the wards?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘But this was at night. How did she know you were looking for her?’

‘She works in the laundry. We sort of looked in earlier.’

‘But she did not do it there?’

‘No. She came out.’

‘Let’s go back to the night Wilson was murdered. Was there anything different about it that night? From the other nights?’

‘No.’

‘You went in just after midnight and you were in there for how long? About an hour?’

‘Less. It doesn’t take long.’

‘And then you came out.’

‘Yes.’

‘On your hands and knees?’

‘Yes. It was dark. They dim the lights, see, at night. There’s a sort of light there, but it’s by the nurse, and she’s usually sitting at her table.’

‘You saw her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And nothing else?’

‘Just the usual. People sleeping.’

‘Was anyone awake?’

‘Not as far as I know. Except, perhaps, that bugger, Vasco, who’s always got his eye on you. But I was looking out for him and kept my head down till I was out of the ward. Look, there was nothing different that time. Nothing! It was quiet as the grave. It was later, later, I’m telling you, that it happened. By then I was out of the place.’

‘How did you get out of the hospital?’

‘There’s a coal chute. Suzie told me about it.’

‘That’s in the boiler room. Did anyone see you while you were on your way there?’

‘Only that daft old bugger who’s always drifting around, and he doesn’t count.’

‘Dr Malia?’

‘Yes, that’s his name. He’s always around.’

‘And he saw you?’

‘Well—he was standing there, right by the door to the boiler room. I’d have given him the go-by if I could, but I couldn’t. He was standing there, right by the door. He seemed to be sort of asleep. Standing up. I waited there for quite a while and then I reckoned that he
was
asleep. So I just went past him. And he didn’t say anything or do anything. Just looked at me. But I don’t reckon he saw me. His eyes were open, yes, but I don’t know that he was seeing much. I reckon he was asleep on his feet. It’s like that sometimes when a bloke’s on watch. He’s standing there, all right, but he’s dropped off.’

‘He didn’t mean to,’ said Suzie. ‘I’ll swear!’ she said earnestly.

‘He swears that, too,’ said Lucca unimpressed. ‘I went along to see him this morning when I got in. It was all I could do to stop him falling on his knees and begging my forgiveness.’

‘He means it,’ Suzie assured him. ‘He really means it!’

‘Oh, sure, he means it,’ said Lucca. ‘But that won’t stop him trying it again.’

‘It’s all my fault,’ said Suzie penitently.

‘Yes, it is,’ said Lucca.

‘I wasn’t really serious about him,’ said Suzie.

‘Which one was this?’ asked Lucca.

‘The Navy. I don’t know their names. The big one.’

‘Cooper?’ said Seymour.

‘Yes, I think that’s his name.’

‘The one who was with you that night?’

‘I don’t like to think that.’

‘You said, and he said, that he left before—before anything happened.’

‘Yes,’ said Suzie. ‘That’s right.’

‘He says he left the hospital at once.’

Suzie was silent. Then she said: ‘I expect he did. I’m sure he did. Look, I told you: they were his mates.’

‘There wasn’t anything between them, was there? Between Cooper and Wilson? The one in the bed? Over you?’

‘No, no. I never went with the one in the bed. I knew him, of course, but just to talk to.’

‘What about the others? There were others, weren’t there?’

Suzie nodded.

‘Take those three for a start. There was nothing between them and the two who were murdered, was there?’

‘No! They were their mates! And they used to visit them!’

‘And they didn’t mind about you?’

‘No, it was all free and easy.’

‘There was nothing that might have led Cooper—the big one—to stay behind that night?’

‘No,’ said Suzie. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘What about others?’

‘There weren’t many,’ said Suzie humbly. ‘It had got down to those three. There had been more, I admit that. The Navy has looked after me, and I like to look after the Navy.’

‘So why are you down to three?’

‘The others have gone back to sea. Also, I don’t do patients. It’s bad for them, the sisters say. And there haven’t been any other ones. At least, not in the hospital.’

‘But outside?’

‘Well—maybe. Occasionally.’

‘And others, not sailors?’

‘Oh, I never see them in the hospital. It’s always outside.’

‘Luigi?’

‘Not even him. I mean, he’s different. He’s my bloke.’

‘Did he come to see you in the hospital?’

‘Once or twice. But he doesn’t like the hospital. It’s too big for him.’

‘Does he know about the coal chute?’

‘Well, he does, but he doesn’t like that, either. It’s too dirty for him. He’s funny like that. Over his clothes, I mean. He likes to keep them clean.’

She looked at Lucca. ‘I’ve brought some clean ones in for him. That’s all right, isn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave them at the front desk.’

‘Now, listen, my girl,’ said Lucca, in a fatherly way, ‘I know how it is with you and the Navy. They’ve done right by you, and you want to do right by them. But you can’t go on like this. It’s not fair to Luigi. If he really is your bloke.’

‘You see, I’m not really sure that he is,’ said Suzie. ‘Not
really
sure. He’s nice but I’m not sure I want to be with him for ever and ever.’

‘I appreciate that. But it’s landed him in a mess, hasn’t it? Not least over me.’

‘You won’t be hard on him, though, will you, Benito?’

‘It’s not up to me,’ said Lucca. ‘This has got to come to court. I can’t just forget about it, because too many people saw.’

Suzie hung her head.

‘It’s all my fault,’ she said. ‘Can’t you tell them that, Benito?’

‘Yes, but you didn’t have a knife, did you? All right, all right!’ he said, and held up his hand. ‘I might be able to put in a word. But that doesn’t affect the others, does it?’

‘What others is this, Benito?’ said Suzie, mystified.

‘He had it in for Cooper, didn’t he? Could he have had it in for anyone else? Those two blokes who were killed while they were lying there, for example? Over you, Suzie, over you!’

‘Oh Christ!’ said Suzie. ‘Surely not! Surely not, Benito!’

‘Did you go with them, too?’

‘I—I might have, Benito. I don’t really know. I like Navy boys. They’ve been generous to me and I like to be generous—’

‘All right, all right,’ said Lucca hastily. ‘But you see what I mean? If you’d gone with them, and if Luigi knew, might he not have slipped into the hospital and—’

‘No, no, no!’ cried Suzie. ‘He’s not like that! He gets carried away sometimes, and does crazy things, but he only does crazy things when he
is
carried away! A sort of fit of passion—’

‘Yes, yes, all right. But I’ve got to ask, Suzie, because of the way you’ve been carrying on.’

‘I’ll try not to in future,’ said Suzie penitently. ‘I really will, Benito!’

‘Sophia,’ said Mrs Ferreira, ‘could you do something for me?’

‘Sure,’ said Sophia, who was nursing the youngest Ferreira child. ‘What is it?’

‘I promised Mr Vasco I would take a message for him, but I’m running behind time and I don’t know when I shall find a moment to do it. Would you take it for me?’

Sophia put down the youngest Ferreira with alacrity. It was not that she minded nursing him, it was just that for Sophia a little domestic responsibility went a long way.

‘You see he doesn’t fall off,’ she said to another sister.

‘Hold him for a minute while I get the letter,’ said Mrs Ferreira.

She put down the saucepan she was holding and went out of the room.

‘I’ll hold him if you like,’ said Chantale.

‘No, no—’

‘I’ll put him down in his cot,’ said Mrs Ferreira, returning with an envelope, which she gave to Sophia. ‘It’s time for his sleep.’

Sophia took the envelope.

‘It’s to his brother,’ said Mrs Ferreira.

‘At their house?’

‘I promised to give it directly into his hands,’ said Mrs Ferreira. ‘I think he’s working in the yards at Kalkara today.’

‘Right,’ said Sophia. ‘I’ll get over there.’

‘Kalkara is where they do the boats?’ asked Chantale.

‘Yes. It’s worth a visit.’

‘Perhaps I could go with Sophia?’ suggested Chantale. ‘If she wouldn’t mind?’

The Ferreiras’ house was small and when most of the family was at home, as it was during the siesta hour, it was very crowded. She could do with some fresh air.

‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Sophia, who, lacking an older sister, quite liked to talk things over with Chantale.

They took a
dghajsa
over to Birgu and then walked through the narrow streets past the Grand Inquisitor’s Palace and past the Band Institute with its splendid balcony for the band, until they got to Kalkara Creek, where they turned along the front to where the old boatyards were. The smell of salt and tar suddenly became strong.