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Show 235 since the thirties," said Molly. "Makes one forty years thirsty," said Jonathan. As Philip studied the pink cloud over the cemetery, he could feel the sun on the back of his neck. Low now, less than an hour from setting, it burned his skin and transformed the old weathered headstones across the road into soft, crumbling squares of white. "Sugar cubes," he said. When the trucks stopped for the night the Arabs would boil water and fix mint tea, pour it into little glasses filled with small, perfectly white sugar cubes. "Does that mean you're ready for another drink?" Molly asked Jonathan. "Oh yes," said the ex-monk, "they're delightful." Delightful? Philip reached automatically for the empty glass, glancing as he did at Julia. Her eyes flushed approval; he was being a host. "Can I service anyone else while I'm up?" he asked, rising. Tia giggled and half-extended her glass. "But I'll help you," she said, rising also. The look in Tia's dark, round eyes made Philip's mouth go dry. It was clear that she still wanted him. It was a problem. "No problem," he said. "Only two drinks, I can handle it." "But what about the chicken?" "She's right," said Paul, "the coals are just about ready." Tia didn't wait, was already on her feet and heading for the house. Philip followed. As he passed Julia she reached for his free hand, squeezed it. His wife. In the kitchen Tia put her arm around Philip's waist and |
