There had been visitors.
Martin Callows, now Director General of MI6, had arrived unannounced one day at the house on the hill and had sat, big and brooding, on one of Quayle’s chairs. The visit was an effort to make the peace, and his attempt to re-recruit Quayle was turned down without consideration.
Marco had also visited and spent a week at the house, his big yacht moored in the harbour. His head had healed well and the hair was growing over the still livid red scar. That night, they got happily drunk – but Quayle missed Holly terribly and Marco, understanding the pain, had sought to take his mind off the matter with whatever came to hand, including attempting to juggle plates one night in the taverna. He gave up after two hundred odd lay broken on the floor and a crowd of tourists had gathered to watch on the street as his last attempt put paid to sixteen at once. He paid up manfully as Nico presented his massive bill. That night, too drunk to walk the hill, they slept on the boat.
Marco had been gone for a month now and, for Quayle, the nightmares were back. Often, the lights in the house burned late into the night as he played chess with himself while Plato, the little tom cat, watched from a cushion, or worked on one of the icons that had sat waiting his loving touch in the cardboard box under the kitchen table.
Most of the weight in the bag he hefted was bottled beer and cat food and, as he took the last steps up to the house, he pulled the papers from his shirt front.
He had just dumped the lot on the veranda table when he heard it. The singing.
He walked inside and there she was, drying her hair with his big towel like she always did.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m back if you’ll have me.”
He didn’t say anything so she continued, “You need stuff for Plato, and you’ve run out of flour and beer, and I love you and I miss you and I want to come home...”
His kiss silenced her.
From The Publisher
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The British Military Quartet:
Let Not the Deep
King’s Shilling
Long Reach
Congo Blue (originally published as Heraklion Blue)
Other fiction titles:
Dark Rose
Angel Seven
Somewhere Out there
About the Author
Mike Lunnon-Wood was born in Africa and educated in Australia and New Zealand. He worked in the Middle East for ten years before moving to West Sussex. His writing was characterised by the quality of research he conducted, spending time with soldiers, sailors and airman in support of each book. Mike Lunnon-Wood passed away in 2008, survived by his son, Piers.
Copyright Information
This edition published by Silvertail Books in 2020
www.silvertailbooks.com
Copyright © Mike Lunnon-Wood 1998
1
The right of Mike Lunnon-Wood to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted in accordance
with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system,
in any form or by any means, without permission
in writing from Silvertail Books or the copyright holder
All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public
domain are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or
dead, is purely coincidental.
