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Extract from , by turquoisemoon
Marennes, FR

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Extract from "The Man with Gre

Good for a thirst, she said. Far too hot for tea, but it is an extraordinarily refreshing drink.
What does the girl want? she thought. Why doesnt she just piss off?
Have you had a row with Tom, dear? she asked gently. The last time Kirsty had turned up unexpectedly it was after a row with Tom.
Oh no not at all! Kirsty was surprised. I just thought Id come and see you, thats all.
So sweet of you, demurred Stella, repeating herself.
To be honest, Stella, I am worried about you & is there &well, can I help in any way &?
What dyou mean? Stella was genuinely perplexed.
Well I know youve been very poorly & suddenly Kirsty felt a fool, oh nothing. Im being silly. I was just concerned about you, thats all.
Kirsty dear, Id hate to have to take you in hand. Mind your own business, why dont you?
You are just such a good friend! exclaimed Stella. She stirred sugar vigorously in to the cup and passed in over to her young companion. Sometimes I think I have nobody to care about me, but then I think of you and I think well, I do have my friend Kirsty.
Kirsty was warmed and heartened by this. She badly wanted to ask if Stella were dying, or perhaps recovering from a disastrous love affair. But she remained silent. I will find out all in good time, she told herself. And her curiosity was not born of nosiness but of a genuine fondness for her friend. She sipped her tea thoughtfully and soon the conversation moved on to feminine issues, as was always the way with Stella monthly problems, clothes, mans insatiable desire for sex at almost any price, the irritations of a new bra & Kirsty was pleased she had come.
Well, you know where I am if you need me, Stella, she said as she rose to leave.
But why should I need you? asked Stella.
The question was abrupt and crude but Kirsty saw instantly that it was harmless. She smiled at the older woman and shrugged lightly. Stella opened the gate for her.
Truly, Im fine, Kirsty. But its good to know where my friends are. Thank-you. Bye-bye dear, see you soon.
Bye, then!
Bye!
Kirsty stepped back out in to the sweltering street and heard the courtyard gate close behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of Stella turning the key and ramming the bolt home.
Stella, her ear pressed up to the gate, listened as Kirstys footsteps receded quickly down the lane. The girl hadnt noticed anything &&&.. Stella breathed deeply for a moment, fighting irritation, and finally turned back towards her house.
She removed her hat and shoes.
She had a small collection of tiny mountain plants, arranged in little pots ready for a rock garden she intended to build over the summer. Considering that the Troodos was just a small range, there was an interesting variety to be collected, ranging from tiny heathers to miniature orchids, small succulents and orange grasses called orangum minitii. Altogether she had collected nine varieties and had been looking forward to planting them. Her plan had been to collect rocks from interesting places such as Aphrodites Beach or even loose and discarded stones from the many ancient Greek remains on the island, and make a small rock garden in the corner of her yard, over by the wall where there was reasonable shade most of the day.
She now retrieved the plants, carrying two at a time, and placed them in a shallow cardboard box which she in turn put on her kitchen table. She stared at them pensively for a while, as though they were small children. Her lips were set in a straight line as she concentrated on her task and, both hat and scarf discarded in the living room, her head, almost devoid of hair, bent with intense concentration over the pots as her fingers knowledgeably and lightly brushed the little leaves. She then went to her cupboard and took out, clattering them about, an armful of old pots and pans and bowls of various shapes and sizes.
Back in her courtyard she surveyed her geraniums for several minutes, her arms laden with the pots and bowls, and then set about placing a bowl under each potted plant. She experienced a slight sensation of confusion, because she loved her plants and cared for them daily though she had never chatted to them as if they were able to respond to her && and perhaps they did, she thought. She didnt want to see them perish. Most of the geraniums she had grown from cuttings, and the orchids had been carefully nurtured for a long time before they came in to flower and now, when they were in flower, they were quite a sight. She was very proud of them. Orchids grew wild on the islands, so perhaps they would survive, but she doubted it. She smiled slightly to herself; orchid was the Greek word for testicles.
There was no way the lilies would survive without her constant attention and, making up her mind suddenly, she turned back to her house and, fingers trembling slightly in her haste, she tied her scarf over her head, fixing it at the back of her neck, like a gipsy. She glanced in the mirror and pulled the scarf forwards a little so that it hid her lack of hair. Her big earrings jangled underneath, casting little golden reflections over her skin. She smiled at her reflection and put on a little more lipstick. Back outside again she grabbed two of the potted lilies and went to her gate. Quickly she checked the position of the scarf again and then, balancing one pot precariously on the other, she opened her gate and nipped round the side to her neighbour. She tapped lightly on the door and after a few moments a short tubby woman in a pink housecoat, and black hair tied back in to a tight little knot, opened the door. She smiled pleasantly when she saw Stella.

Description: This novel is my best-seller and I have had some wonderful reviews. I categorize it as a read for women, but men seem to like it too. It fits most themes: romance, murder, adventure, travel ...

My own favourite is "A Call from France" and that is also selling really well.

The other two "French Sand" and "Saying Nothing" are trotting along behind!

Photo Posted: Apr 01,2013 Photo Viewed: 424

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