Island of Mermaids by Iris Danbury Page B

Punta Carena with its lighthouse and turned along the south coast of Capri towards the Green Grotto.
    ‘I haven ’ t seen the vestige of a mermaid, ’ complained Althea.
    Kent laughed. ‘ Perhaps you ’ re too sceptical. You can ’ t expect to see mermaids unless you really believe in them. ’
    ‘ And you do? ’
    ‘ Of course. Every inlet in the coast was full of sirens or mermaids longing to entice unwary sailors or fishermen into their caves. ’
    ‘ That ’ s always been a good excuse for men who wanted to dally in some more pleasant place than their hometown ,’ said Mr. Buckland, who had been idly listening to the conversation.
    Althea made some trivial laughing remark, but Kent ’ s face was thoughtful. ‘ I believe you ’ ve given me the idea I ’ ve been searching for, ’ he said slowly. ‘ This so-called opera I ’ m trying to write. I’ ve had only a few hazy ideas of the music and also two or three legends on which to base the story, but I need a strong pivotal character. ’ Kent nodded and smiled at Mr. Buckland. ‘ Thanks very much, if I may use your notion. ’
    ‘ Of course. I was only generalising. ’
    Althea gave Kent a sidelong glance. ‘ Beware, Kent. My father is an astute businessman. Before you know where you are, he ’ ll be demanding a share of the royalties !’
    ‘ Oh no, Althea! ’ he protested. ‘ I ’ m not that much of a tycoon. There ’ s no copyright in mermaids, anyway. ’
    ‘ H ear, hear! ’ agreed Kent. ‘ Let mermaids be free for all. ’ By now they had arrived at the entrance to the Green Grotto and Althea gazed in wonderment at the enormous liquid emerald offered by the sea as a small part of its handiwork of thousands of years.
    At Marina Piccola, the small beach on the south side of Capri, Kent asked, ‘ How d ’ you feel about continuing round the rest of the island after lunch? Or will you do that trip another day? ’
    Althea allowed her father to decide that question for himself. ‘ Another time, I think, ’ Mr. Buckland said. Althea was relieved, for she knew her father needed rest in the afternoons. She was glad, too, that she had not been forced to give Kent the impression that she was hoping to have another sea trip with him.
    Kent chose a restaurant with a shady garden and a view of the sea. He ordered various Italian dishes with which Mr. Buckland was familiar.
    ‘ You probably know a lot more about Italian cooking than I do, ’ Kent said. ‘ You ’ ve been to so many parts of Italy. ’
    ‘ Mostly in the towns. It ’ s in the country parts that you often find the most enjoyable local dishes. ’
    For her part, Althea was content to eat the dish of spaghetti with mussels she had chosen and drink Vesuvio wine from the Naples district.
    Kent suggested that Mr. Buckland might like to visit the Villa Castagna. ‘ We ’ ll take a taxi up there and you might be interested in what I ’ m doing. You can have your siesta there just as well as anywhere else. ’
    Lawrence Buckland welcomed the idea. ‘ Yes, I ’ d like to see what Carla calls your old ruin. ’
    Mention of Carla struck Althea with a sense of guilt. There was no reason in the world why Althea and her father should not spend a day with Kent, but all the same Althea was apprehensive and now welcomed the idea of postponing her next meeting with the Marchettis as long as possible.
    ‘ I ’ d rather you see my tumbledown old shack first, ’ Kent explained when they arrived at his villa. ‘ Once you ’ ve visited San Michele and seen its wonderful treasures, anything I may restore is an anti-climax. ’
    Althea had not so far entered any part of the villa, so it was as new to her as to her father. She now viewed the large salon, its walls still rough and unpainted.
    ‘I thought of having plain whitewash here, ’ explained Kent. ‘ Not much furniture. Less than I have now. This lot is junk, but I ’ m hoping to buy a couple of good tables and some old rugs. The piano I