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needed to think about investing in a serious air conditioning system, but she knew that now was not the time to suggest it.
    “Work?” he stammered. His voice had gone up an octave to a high-pitched squeal. He was clearly offended by the idea. “No, no. No work. Don Paulo de Castile, he pay everything.”
    “Has he paid for a bus ticket to La Puesta?” Mary asked.
    “La Puesta is a very bad place. You stay here in Corazon. You are safe with Don Paulo.”
    Mary thanked him, though she was not sure what for and went out into the town. Maybe someone else would be able to offer her work. She didn’t think that anyone would be looking for an English primary teacher, especially during the summer holidays, and she couldn’t speak Spanish, but maybe someone would offer her work as a cleaner, or something similar.
    She tried the café on the square, the local bank, the small shop just off the square that sold strangely-shaped vegetables and a few local cantinas that definitely looked as if they could do with a cleaner. However, everywhere the answer was the same: “No Señora”. Everyone she asked reacted with the same shock and surprise that Señor Marcos had shown at the hotel. They also muttered things about Don Paulo de Castile, but she couldn’t work out what they were saying.
    At midday, she gave up and went back to the café on the square, hot, tired and dripping in sweat. She ordered a coffee and the cheapest thing she could see on the menu. She didn’t know what she had ordered, but she hoped it wasn’t pigs’ ears again. She was relieved when the barman placed a small green salad in front of her. It wouldn’t be filling, but at least it was edible. However, when she went to pay the bill she was told that Don Paulo de Castile had already paid for it.
    “How?” she asked. She looked around the bar. There was a table of men in the middle, directly under the ceiling fan. They all looked about a hundred and ten years old. There was no sign of Paulo anywhere.
    “Don Paulo pay later. You take, he pay,” the barman explained in broken English.
    Mary wondered if she should stay and order something more substantial, but decided that she shouldn’t try to take advantage of Paulo’s generosity. She still didn’t know what he wanted from her in return, although she could guess. An image of him standing in front of her with his shirt off ran through her thoughts. She could see his tanned, broad chest and strong, hard muscles in her mind. She recalled his face, with its strong jaw line and rich dark eyes. Then she remembered the scar under his left eye. It was not unattractive; in fact it gave him a rugged, almost wild look. She wondered how he got it. It was probably in a fight with some outlaw.
    Mary took a deep breath, inhaled hot smoky air and chocked. She had to pull herself together. She had to stop fantasizing about Paulo. He was probably some evil drug baron or bandit and anyway, she was with Nick even if he was not actually physically with her at the moment. She looked around the hot, dusty square. The hotel was directly opposite her. To her right was the large, square courthouse and to the left was the main church. Mary had no reason to go into the courthouse; however, the church might be open. Mary was not religious, but maybe going into the church would help her to cool down and it was certainly a more attractive option than going back into the dingy hotel.
    She climbed up the white marble steps that someone had swept and washed earlier that day. They were the cleanest thing that she’d seen since she arrived in the town. At the top, she pushed open an ornately carved wooden door and stepped in. She was shocked by what she saw. After days of seeing nothing but dust, dirt and grime, she was now confronted by dazzling white walls and at the far end, a huge picture of the Crucifixion painted in bright reds, blues, yellows and greens, but what really caught her eye was the giant gold cross hanging from the