The Sin of Cynara Read Free Page A

and live there, near the fountain of King Neptune.' He had very much taken to the bearded old god in the Fountain of Trevi, with his trident and his chariot.
      'That would be nice,' she said, and wondered if it would also be possible. Her small store of cash was almost exhausted, but one thing in her favour was that she could speak good Italian and had a good experience of working as a waitress. There were plenty of cafés in Rome, and no doubt plenty of cheap rooms.
      Yet ... oh, it wasn't what she wanted for Teri. Living from hand to mouth, making do with mended clothes, and never being able to send him to a really good school. Education was so important for a boy, especially one as bright and quick as her little Roman.
      She smiled at him, and hers was a singularly sweet smile for anyone she cared for. 'We'll keep our fingers crossed, caro. Wouldn't you like to live on a real isola, among your own kind of people?'
      He nodded and played with his spoon. 'I shall miss Auntie's fruit tarts,' he said.
      'Yes,' she said wryly, and remembered all those times her aunt had stormed at the boy for poking about in her kitchen and nipping hot tarts off the table.
      Their breakfast arrived and they tucked into the food with good appetite. Their journey to Catalina had been rather a long one, and for the most part they had lived on cheese sandwiches and biscuits. Teri's eggs were nice and runny so he could dip his soldiered bread into the golden yolks. Carol sipped her real Italian coffee with appreciation, and thoroughly enjoyed the fig and apricot jam on crusty bread.
      When the waiter made out their bill, she asked him if there was a local bus to the Lake of Lina, for it would work out a little cheaper to go that way instead of hiring a car. 'Si,' he gave her a bold smile and told her they would be in time to pick up the bus in the nearby square. 'Is the signora taking a holiday in this part of the world?'
      'We're on a visit to relatives,' she said, counting coins into his palm. 'That was a very nice breakfast, grazie.'
      'It has been a pleasure serving you, signora.' He gave her a gallant bow, while Teri tugged at her hand and glared at the man for having the nerve to flirt with his Cally.
      'Your luggage, signora, I will get the kitchen boy to carry the cases to the bus for you.'
      'That's kind of you.'
      'Who would not be kind to a young mother and her bambino?' He winked at Teri, and went off to find the kitchen boy, and Carol wondered if she was going to find the same sort of kindness at the house of the Falcone family ... the palace on the island. Oh, it had to
      be an exaggeration of the porter, who probably re-garded any large house as a palazzo.
      The dusty, old-fashioned bus was already being revved up for its journey when they arrived in the square. Her cases were hoisted aboard and she and the boy found seats about half-way along the bus. The other passengers gave them long stares of curiosity, and she heard a woman mutter something to another one. These were real country people, with sunburned faces and dark shawls and wide-brimmed hats to offset the rising heat of the Italian sun ... the solleone, merciless sunlion of late summer.
      The bus started up and bumped its way out of the piazza, passed the huddling, colour-washed houses and shops and roared merrily over a hump-backed bridge on to a road bordered by sword-leaved cacti, sharply duelling with each other, their sharp points glittering.
      That woman on the other side of the aisle had turned her head and was staring at Teri with sharp eyes. He moved closer to Carol and his hand gripped hers. That look from one of the locals couldn't be malignant, for the child was too obviously Italian ; it could only mean that his looks were recognizable and he resembled the Falcone family. Right away Carol wanted to ask someone about them, but when she glanced around for a sympathetic face she found that unsmiling curiosity of villagers who regarded