Helen tried to taste the basil ice cream that the bartender promised he had put in her drink. Nope. Just the vodka. Maybe, after a whole day's boring paperwork, and going up and down the thousand steps in and around the city, that's the sharp warm kick you're left with.
Martin smiled, looking at Helen's disappointment. 'Well, if you'd rather have ice cream or something particularly sweet, why did you not go for the chocolate mousse?' Helen frowned. 'But I wanted to taste the basil cream, to see how it went with the alcohol....' her voice trailed off, and her frown disappeared as quickly as it had clouded her face. Damayanti was at the restaurant door, looking happy and tired in blue....always her spirit colour, as she put it.
Jostling through the puffs of cigarette smoke and loud conversations, she reached the table. 'And I thought you guys wouldn't start without me!' 'Just a drink, we love you too much to order the steak, all by ourselves' Martin teased. 'It's lovely to see you, Dom!'
And it was indeed, lovely. Damayanti, Martin, and Susan, after ages, sitting in a buzzing part of the old Phoenician town. The lazy autumn evening settled slowly on the steps, around their tables. The sun dipped behind the castle, leaving it in a dreamy chiaroscuro of colours. Minutes later, the lights went on. Red and pink...or so they appeared from a distance. The night fell, and with it, the humid air....giving way to a cool Atlantic breeze. Damayanti sat, with the breeze on her face, remembering the glory days of camaraderie, companionship, lonely vigil days at work, in her tiny England cottage, and how she would have the heating on by Halloween, sitting on top of that crazy hill.
In this part of the world, in stark contrast, you forget what time of the year it is. Warm mostly. Citrusy. Sometimes dull. But the moment you meet your closest friends, memories flood back, lighting up the darkest corners of your heart.
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