ravenous, and after bathing and changing they went down to dinner, enjoying the best in Italian cooking on the tastefully-lit dining terrace.
The day had been a pleasurable one, Carol liked to think. She and Stephanie seemed to get on well together. The only moment of discord between them had been an incident during the morning.
Realising that she would first of all need Italian money, Carol had gone to see the receptionist at the desk as Gray Barrett had instructed her to. She was amazed at the amount she was handed, for she had already learned the value of the lire by comparing prices ih the hotel shops. She was sure that such a large quantity of money would cover their expenses for a month, rather than a week.
When she had stuffed the notes into her handbag her first thoughts had been for her family and the postcards that would let them know she had arrived in Italy safe and sound. She bought half a dozen colourful scenes of the Venice Lido at the foyer kiosk and stopped to write them at the little desk provided.
While she was scribbling, Stephanie stood over her watching the flying pen. The younger girl noted the numbers of cards and with cool offhandedness she asked, 'Do you have many brothers and sisters?'
'Dozens,' Carol laughed. Though she had meant it only as a joke because of the pile of cards she had to wade through, Stephanie's face pinched up small and tight and she carped, 'Well, there's no need to be so smug about it!'
Carol was immediately contrite. She smiled and said pleasantly, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound smug.'
The incident passed off, and thinking about it now as they sipped their coffee together under the stars Carol shelved it as something she could forget. But this didn't prove to be the case with Stephanie. Later, when they were upstairs in the apartment, the girl found a way to edge round to the subject again.
They had changed into their night attire and Carol was fiddling with her hair before her mirror. Stephanie, looking dark and pretty in a short broderie anglaise nightgown patterned with strawberries, had drifted in to, finger Carol's possessions around the room before flopping idly on to her bed. She lay on her tummy swinging her legs, watching the performance before the mirror for long enough. Then she said casually, 'Who's the oldest in your family?'
'I am,' Carol replied, remembering not to be facetious this time. 'Clive is my twin brother, but I was born three minutes before he was,' she added with impish satisfaction.
Stephanie digested this in silence. She swung her brown gaze away from Carol and studied the border of the counterpane in her fingers. Then she let herself - A ask, 'And what about the others?'
'Well,' Carol went on chattily, only too happy to encourage any kind of conversation, 'there's Peter. He's two years younger than us. Sandra's fourteen, and Steve's twelve. Then there's my two younger sisters, Deborah and Sue.'
'How old are they?' Stephanie tried to give the appearance of being only mildly interested, but it was obvious that she was soaking up the information avidly.
'Debbie's nine and Sue's six.' Carol twisted another smooth coil of hair into an elastic band.
'That makes seven of you,' the voice was figuring behind her. 'Then there's your mother and father.'
'Nine in all,' Carol winced laughingly. 'You should see us when we're all sat down at the table together!'
Stephanie made no comment to this. She seemed to have retired behind that air of frigidity which sometimes came over her. A little while later she said goodnight and went to her room.
The following afternoon they walked in the locality around the hotel. The long straight main road which ran through the centre of the island was lined with souvenir shops, cafes, boutiques, raffia and jewellery stalls and endless ice cream bars which displayed all kinds of wonderful concoctions in glass cases.
Though everything was comparatively quiet in the heat of the day, there was fun to be had.
The day had been a pleasurable one, Carol liked to think. She and Stephanie seemed to get on well together. The only moment of discord between them had been an incident during the morning.
Realising that she would first of all need Italian money, Carol had gone to see the receptionist at the desk as Gray Barrett had instructed her to. She was amazed at the amount she was handed, for she had already learned the value of the lire by comparing prices ih the hotel shops. She was sure that such a large quantity of money would cover their expenses for a month, rather than a week.
When she had stuffed the notes into her handbag her first thoughts had been for her family and the postcards that would let them know she had arrived in Italy safe and sound. She bought half a dozen colourful scenes of the Venice Lido at the foyer kiosk and stopped to write them at the little desk provided.
While she was scribbling, Stephanie stood over her watching the flying pen. The younger girl noted the numbers of cards and with cool offhandedness she asked, 'Do you have many brothers and sisters?'
'Dozens,' Carol laughed. Though she had meant it only as a joke because of the pile of cards she had to wade through, Stephanie's face pinched up small and tight and she carped, 'Well, there's no need to be so smug about it!'
Carol was immediately contrite. She smiled and said pleasantly, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound smug.'
The incident passed off, and thinking about it now as they sipped their coffee together under the stars Carol shelved it as something she could forget. But this didn't prove to be the case with Stephanie. Later, when they were upstairs in the apartment, the girl found a way to edge round to the subject again.
They had changed into their night attire and Carol was fiddling with her hair before her mirror. Stephanie, looking dark and pretty in a short broderie anglaise nightgown patterned with strawberries, had drifted in to, finger Carol's possessions around the room before flopping idly on to her bed. She lay on her tummy swinging her legs, watching the performance before the mirror for long enough. Then she said casually, 'Who's the oldest in your family?'
'I am,' Carol replied, remembering not to be facetious this time. 'Clive is my twin brother, but I was born three minutes before he was,' she added with impish satisfaction.
Stephanie digested this in silence. She swung her brown gaze away from Carol and studied the border of the counterpane in her fingers. Then she let herself - A ask, 'And what about the others?'
'Well,' Carol went on chattily, only too happy to encourage any kind of conversation, 'there's Peter. He's two years younger than us. Sandra's fourteen, and Steve's twelve. Then there's my two younger sisters, Deborah and Sue.'
'How old are they?' Stephanie tried to give the appearance of being only mildly interested, but it was obvious that she was soaking up the information avidly.
'Debbie's nine and Sue's six.' Carol twisted another smooth coil of hair into an elastic band.
'That makes seven of you,' the voice was figuring behind her. 'Then there's your mother and father.'
'Nine in all,' Carol winced laughingly. 'You should see us when we're all sat down at the table together!'
Stephanie made no comment to this. She seemed to have retired behind that air of frigidity which sometimes came over her. A little while later she said goodnight and went to her room.
The following afternoon they walked in the locality around the hotel. The long straight main road which ran through the centre of the island was lined with souvenir shops, cafes, boutiques, raffia and jewellery stalls and endless ice cream bars which displayed all kinds of wonderful concoctions in glass cases.
Though everything was comparatively quiet in the heat of the day, there was fun to be had.
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