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Catherine McNamara
they think she is in there?
When will they be back?’
Stefano wiped his forehead
and upper lip with the back
of his hand. His trousers
were wet to the knees and
his leather shoes soaked. He
looked over to Frieda speaking
with the
carabinieri
.
‘They think there might be
tracks,’ he said. ‘That’s what
they were saying. They were
following them.’
‘Into the woods? In
there?
’
Magda went on. ‘What
possessed her? What got into
the child’s head? Who could
imagine any of this? We just
drove up here for a simple
holiday.’
Stefano looked up at him.
‘You didn’t see anything from
the window, Sir? Frieda said
she saw you looking earlier.
They think she might have
wandered off on her own.’
He shook his head.
‘Oh, him,’ Magda said. ‘A fine
writer he is. He was asleep
when we found him. No
chance he saw a thing.’
Stefano stared down at
his soaked shoes, bracing
himself on the stair rail. They
heard a dog barking and all
three looked across. The
few remaining voices on the
terrace grew quiet. The dark
trees flowed together, their
tips a blue stubble.
‘You should get out of those
wet things,’ Magda said. ‘I
can’t understand this. I can’t
understand what is happening
to us today.’ She turned away
and walked inside.
He saw his son-in-law still had
something to say to him. The
hotel manager appeared in the
doorway again. He advanced