Sorting the quick from the dead and throwing the still wiggling into the sea kept her occupied for a while. Keeping a couple of the obviously dead and desiccated, she strolled on. What a setting , she thought.Behind the multi-sided ‘palace’ and its gardens rose stark, mini-mountains of rock. The bay was bounded by rocks too, and at one end a fisherman was busy with his nets. He wore a long checked sarong, an untidy turban and a long grey beard. And when she walked past, he gave her a wide, one-toothed smile.‘Good morning,’ she smiled.His answer was unintelligible, but obviously kindly meant, making her ashamed at knowing not one word of the language. She walked back and headed for the shop in the foyer for a phrasebook. There were guide books too,which she browsed through for ages. It was a shock when she glanced at her watch and saw the time. For a while she had felt she was on holiday in a new and fascinating country, but that mood was vanishing fast. It was time to check on Ano

Slinging everything in her bag, she went inside, wondering whether to call on Superbrat on her way up. Superbrat wouldn’t want to see her, but that was beside the point.Anoushka answered the door with a mutinous expression. ‘Now what?’‘May I come in?’‘If you must.’She flopped back on the bed and picked up one of the magazines that littered it.Claudia sat on the other bed. ‘Was your father spitting nails?’‘I don’t know why you’re asking. You’ve obviously seen him and had an earnest discussion about the enfant terrible .’‘We hardly spoke about you at all.* She wondered instantly whether she’d said the wrong thing. Superbrats generally liked to think they were the centre of everyone’s universe. ‘Look, I know you don’t want me here, but - ’‘I couldn’t care less whether you’re here or not. If Dad wants to shell out on a babysitter I don’t need, that’s his problem.’‘He thought you’d be fed up on your own all day.’Still Anoushka did not look up. ‘If you believe that, you’re even du

Yes, he knew all right. But what had he thought? Mmm, not bad , probably. Coupled with, But Pm not taken enough to start anything that might get complicated .’She’d been standing there like something dished up on a plate with parsley on top and he’d thought, Oh y what the hell. Might as well make her day with a minor thrill.So he’d kissed her and she’d loved it, so he’d kissed her some more. And, being only human, he’d thought he’d test the water with some subtle will-she, won’t-she tactics.They’d been subtle, all right. Just a shivering almost- touch that had whispered, ‘ There's more , if you want it. . .’Just the memory of it made that something in her stomach stir and shift itself again. What was that wretched thing? Why didn’t they tell you such things in O level Biology? Even old Immac would have dealt with it in her own inimitable way.‘ This , girls , is the Lurch organ , which nice girls need know nothing about till they 3 re married. Turn to page sixty-four , please , an

Just the thought sent her Lurch organ wild. Oh, God. Just imagine it.The sand would get absolutely everywhere.Who cares?And imagine it afterwards. You’d have felt awful, won - dering if he was thinking you enjoyed quick, no-strings bonks on a regular basis.But when she finally got to bed, Claudia couldn’t help wishing she was the sort of person who could enjoy a quick, no-strings bonk. She had a feeling that memories of even a quick bonk with Guy Hamilton would keep her wonderfully warm during those long winter nights.In theory. In practise, the side-effects would make her wretched. There would be the leaping-to-the-phone-every- time-it-rings side effect, plus the I-wonder-what-disgust- ingly-slim/sexy/hateful-bitch-he’s-with now? side effect.The trouble with you, she told herself, just before drifting off to sleep, is that you can’t fancy someone like mad without falling for them. And the male animal, as we know full well, operates on a different basis. The male animal is led n

‘I might.’‘See you later, then.’Claudia went back to her room, sorted out a few things for the laundry and wrote a long letter to a friend nowliving in Canada. After that she went to the pool, did twenty lengths and then sat in the shade with the whodunnit, feeling vaguely bored and restless.Over a toasted sandwich lunch with Anoushka at the pool, she turned the conversation after all. ‘I never had all that trouble with snow ski-ing. With snow ski-ing at least you start upright.’Anoushka was sitting beside her in a black swimsuit that screamed ‘expensive ’. The cut was very simple: just one shoulder-strap, high-cut legs and a very low back. She looked much older than sixteen, but that was also due to a figure that owed absolutely nothing to stick-insect supermodels.‘I never had trouble with either of them.’ Anoushka shrugged. ‘I can’t even remember when I started snow skiing. I suppose I was about three.’‘Lucky old you. It must be lovely to learn these things when you’re too yo