There is not one part of him that sees Malta as its own nation, free from any rule but its own.
‘I will do my part,’ I say, and that’s not a lie. I will.
Nicco nods. He trusts me. ‘I have one more question for you, Maia.’
‘Ask it,’ I say.
‘Why? Why are you willing to act against your own nation?’
‘I’m only half-British,’ I tell him. ‘But my heart – my heart is all Maltese.’
If he wasn’t so blinded by his own ambition, he might understand exactly what that means. Instead, he believes that Malta can never be her own country, entirely independent. Like so many who have come before – the French, the English included – he wants to claim the island for his own nation.
‘Oh, I have a favour to ask you,’ I say, taking out of my pocket a piece of paper on which I have scribbled the last piece of information I took from the twenty-first century. ‘Please could you translate this for me?’
Chapter Sixty-Five
Christina is approaching the half-house from the other direction just as I arrive.
‘What luck,’ she says, clapping her hands joyfully. ‘I was hoping to find you at home. I need your help, dear heart, if you can spare it?’
‘Of course I can,’ I tell her with a laugh. ‘I have some work to do for Miss Strickland that needs doing right away, but after that, count me in. But what do you need me to do – hang bunting or something?’
‘Once you’re dressed for the party later, meet me at my place. We have to take all manner of props, instruments and costumes to the club, and of course there’s no petrol for transport, so I’m putting together a convoy on foot. Even Miss Strickland is pitching in! We need all the help we can get, there’s so much still to do, and I’m rather afraid there are also three cases of Greek wine.’
‘Why is Greek wine a bad thing?’ I ask her.
‘Because they were acquired bysomewhatunderhand methods,’ Christina tells me, lowering her voice as she leans in closer. ‘Not stolen, you understand. No, my Warby, he is ever the eccentric and always on the look-out for an adventure, as if flying reconnaissance in a war isn’t exciting enough. He told Command that he had engine trouble and needed to make an emergency landing in Greece. Of course, he had no such thing – he simply wanted an excuse to stock up on wine and a few other delicacies. Honestly, I don’t know what I see in him.’
‘I think it’s his dashing good looks, his incredible courage and his wine,’ I chuckle.
‘Darling, do not encourage him,’ Christina tells me, breaking into an irrepressible smile. ‘But I do so love how he can find joy in everything. It keeps one’s spirits up so, don’t you think?’
‘It certainly does,’ I say. ‘You certainly do, my dear, brilliant Christina.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, don’t go on so,’ Christina chides me. ‘Now, the next time I see you, I expect you to look ravishing. Tonight’s the night, after all!’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I call after her. Nevertheless, the butterflies dance in my belly at the thought of seeing Danny again. The thought of finding a way to be alone with him is even more thrilling. That I have found myself in the middle of an exchange of secrets is less so, but I have half a plan forming in my head – one that I think I might just about be able to pull off.
But first, I need to talk to Sal, alone.
* * *
He is sitting on a chair with a series of half-opened books on the table. David and Eugenie are sleeping one each end of the sofa. In his hand, David clutches his Spitfire.
‘Maia.’ Sal’s smile is a little sad.
I sit down at the table. ‘We haven’t had any time to talk since I got back,’ I say, glancing at the children.
‘They are exhausted,’ he says. ‘What happened with the count?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ I say. ‘But it will be OK, I promise.’
Sal sighs deeply. ‘I worry for you, my dear. So, tell me everything youcan.’
‘Well, it’s hard to know where to start,’ I say. ‘But I think it all ties together. You, me, quantum consciousness and the temples, and, yes, atonement . . .’
* * *