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“Perhaps.”
    â€œYou do admit it then.”
    â€œNothing so definite. Although –”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œWell, I can’t say Inez hasn’t whetted my appetite. She was a great one for indulging in reminiscences, you know, and she talked of her home so vividly that I felt I’d lived here too. When I first arrived it was just like revisiting a well-loved place.”
    â€œI know. I felt it too. But eerily.”
    â€œAnd yet, I think I would have known this island even if Inez hadn’t brought it to life for me. It is the unattainable dream in each of our hearts. And why should it be? Unattainable, I mean. Why can’t one use one’s prior knowledge to materialistic advantage and give Mr and Mrs Everybody their secret dream?”
    â€œEdward, I don’t care much for your acquisitive look. Exactly what do you have in mind?” But she knew what he had in mind. His fins didn’t show, but undoubtedly he was one of the sharks Felipe had spoken of.
    His hands smacked down on top of hers with a suddenness that made her jump quite violently. “Claim Casa Esmeralda. Give your tenant notice to quit. Exploit your inheritance.”
    â€œIt might not be situated in a position suitable for exploitation,” she said guardedly, “if you mean turn it into a hotel.”
    â€œThat’s precisely what I mean. It’s admirably situated. And well you know it.”
    â€œI can’t make a snap decision about such an important matter. And you have rather jumped this one at me.”
    â€œYou mean you haven’t been entertaining similar thoughts?”
    â€œNo.” But a betraying blush came to her cheeks. Even unseen, she felt the pride of ownership. To see the Casa Esmeralda would be to want to live there. And how could she hope to set up residence without financial means? If she’d been trained as a secretary, she might have been able to seek employment with one of the big exporters. Claude Perryman might even have set her on. The island exported sugar-cane, bananas, potatoes, wine and fruit. Her English would have proved invaluable because Great Britain was one of the main traders, and she might just have been able to eke out a living. But not even Claude Perryman would want to employ a lapsed pianist.
    â€œYou don’t have to decide anything in a hurry,” said Edward, looking complacent now that the seeds had been set. He even patted her hand before resuming his meal. “But think about it. With the right manager installed, that property of yours could be a good working investment.”
    â€œHave you enjoyed your meal?” He set down his knife and fork and crumpled his napkin into a ball. “It’s been delicious.”
    â€œYou obviously enjoy Spanish food.”
    â€œYes.” She smiled at him. “But then, I would. I’m half Spanish.”
    â€œWould you like some coffee?” He averted his eyes to signal the waiter. “With a liqueur, perhaps?” But still he did not look at her.
    They had finished their meal by ten o’clock, which was early by Spanish standards, and she hoped that Edward would suggest they leave the hotel and go on a sightseeing expedition. Earlier, while shopping, she had spied several interesting looking taverns which invited exploration. But Edward smiled benignly and said that he wasn’t yet acclimatized to the long-drawn-out Spanish meals and odd hours and that he was ready for bed.
    He walked her to her bedroom door. “Tomorrow we’ll hire a car and go sight-seeing. You’d like that?”
    â€œYes, I’d like that.”
    She waited.
    â€œAnita?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œNo, it doesn’t matter.” He dropped a quick, embarrassed kiss on her forehead and hurried off down the corridor to his own room. He had been going to tell her something of importance. His tongue had quivered on the brink of confession and then he’d changed his