“Gone for a little early skiing”   V stewed over the text, marinating it in her resentment as she trudged up the sweep of drive to the house. Greenhaw sat as smug and implacable as ever. The sunny stone facade lording it over the village below. At least the bloody Jack wasn't flying today. Because … Continue reading A Little Early Skiing

Black running shorts and a red tank top, she smells of hot lycra and damp cotton and sweat and this morning's shower. Pulse of electricity on the glance from under her ball cap, from behind her thick hair as she takes it off and my hands... my hands reach. I hold her by the elbows, … Continue reading Red Tank Top

The villa reminds Merry very much of that film with Binoche and the Sikh on the motorcycle. It is more than half-ruined and hidden away in the wild country north of Ravenna, a tumbledown fastness in a grove of cypress and olives among the gnarled wind-whittled sun-hammered rock. At first, they had just stopped on … Continue reading Merry and the Merman