PROLOGUE
CYPRUS 1955.
It was late afternoon when a man, aged before his years, came down from the northern Pentadaktylos mountains. For him, the stone path which led to the stone cottage had become refuge, become home again, despite the troubles.
He had seen trouble before, of course, had dealt with it in his own fashion. Now all he wanted was to be left in peace with his sons, his herd of goats, and his memories.
A smile crossed his dry lips as he thought of her. The way she would look at him, how her bright eyes sparkled and danced under the light from a full moon, and how she made fun of his dark skin and brown gaze. And he remembered too, the lilt in… Continue reading Prologue
CHAPTER FIVE.
Fitzgerald and I were staying at a rented unit in Addison Street, not far from his favourite golf club in Shellharbour. The pro there, with the improbable name of Shaun O’Toole, became friends after a Saturday morning round of golf, when Fitzgerald had hit a satisfactory 94.
For him, it was like winning the open at Saint Andrews. Anything under a hundred was good, anything in the low nineties, was flair… or at least that’s what he told me.
The only thing to mar his delight, were the crows stealing golf balls on the 15th fairway. If he’d had a shotgun in the bag, I’m sure he would have used it, right then and there. It would have been his only birdie all day… Continue reading Chapter Five