The house on the cliff

What a relief! I would be alone with Loxándra. It was rare for us these days to be left to our own devices. Ever since Dóra had returned and taken up her parental duties once more, Loxándra had been exiled to the lower floor, while I was confined to the piano nobile like a proper young lady. The thought did wonders for my mood. I stopped protesting and set about making myself agreeable on a subject I knew would please her. “Is that a new dress, Dóra?” She liked it that I didn’t address her as my mother. “Yes, what do you think?” “It’s a lovely green” “They call it Eau de Nile” “How perfect for a lady born on the banks of the Nile” She laughed. “Too bad the water of the river Nile is cacao-coloured” “The colour of caca? Shame on you Dóra!” She didn’t miss a beat “I thought that might tickle your scatological sense of humour, child”, she said, archly, turning my joke against me. “Hey, no fair! I was teasing you” “Then it serves you right for lack of respect.” She flashed me her famous all-conquering smile. “You’re right though. The waters of the Nile are brown as caca” “And smell like it too, according to you.” “Help! Reinforcements!” She seized the crystal spray-bottle from her dressing table and started spraying both of us with her perfume - a mixture of sunlight and honey. Laughing, she retreated towards the door, leaving. She offered me her cheek before she left the house and I kissed it carefully, so as not to smudge her make-up. THE RETURN OF DÓRA I continued to think of her as a visitor to our house, especially here in Corfu. She rarely went outside, except at sunset, when she would sit for dinner on the jasmine-scented verandah. All her outdoor pursuits (you wouldn’t think it, but she was an athletic swimmer and tennis player) had, as their