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As he grabbed a towel, Josh shed his T-shirt and sandals then vaguely wondered if anyone had yet emerged for a post siesta coffee. Erin was out and he...had not seen Francesca since yesterday, Becky was probably composing the fifteenth page of her latest epistle to Coral the Marine and the whereabouts of most of the others hardly mattered to him. The courtyard was still empty when he emerged with only the distant drone of a cicada to be heard. He unlocked the bathroom door and peered into the. ‘Right there. I’ll show you.’ She rummaged around for a second in her purse-thing, fished out a compact – that’s what you call them, right, those little round mirror things in cases – popped it open, and pointed it at me. She was right. The icy kamikaze spitball from hell that I had created apparently had cut my face when the wind ricocheted it back at me. Back at ya’ kid! Blood had been dripping down my cheek for blocks, freezing about halfway down, my face too numb to feel it. I looked like. More

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