The Man With Green Fingers

Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Man With Green Fingers by Catherine Broughton, Atla
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Catherine Broughton ISBN: 9780957250246
Publisher: Atla Publication: February 4, 2012
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Catherine Broughton
ISBN: 9780957250246
Publisher: Atla
Publication: February 4, 2012
Imprint:
Language: English
Stella crossed over on to the shaded side of the street. There was nobody about. The early July sun blasted down the Skipos avenue and beat against the whitewashed walls of the houses, their shutters closed against the heat, and that heat ricocheted off back in to the air which was heavy with post-luncheon sleep and thick with the feel and scents of Cypriot summer. Her hand-bag, laden with emergency-repair make-up, felt moderately heavy slung as it was over one shoulder. The elaborate scarf she had tied artistically around her neck, with a pretty little butterfly clasp to hold it in place was now limp, like a fading plant. Although Stella would have enjoyed a love affair, she accepted with inherent patience that it just wasn’t possible. That was an advantage to being a bit older – age gives you wisdom, she thought, and she never minded her forty-eight years. Only the most unusual circumstances and only the most private and secure position would allow her to even consider a love affair; and while these conditions did not present themselves to her, there was no way she was going out to look for them. In fact, it could ruin everything. It is odd, she reflected, as she made her way rapidly up the steep incline of the Panayia, how people relate everything to sex. Here in Cyprus, back in England, all over the world, all men relate all things to sex and many women do too. Her heels, unsuitable for the cobbled surface of the road, but worn with stalwart insistence, made loud clicking noises as she walked. Her ankles were slightly swollen from the heat in high heels and this made her smile faintly – women do have these problems to contend with, she thought. Sex, however, was not one of her problems. To be enfolded in the arms of somebody who loved her would be … lovely, she decided. But it wasn’t going to happen, so that was the end of that.
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Stella crossed over on to the shaded side of the street. There was nobody about. The early July sun blasted down the Skipos avenue and beat against the whitewashed walls of the houses, their shutters closed against the heat, and that heat ricocheted off back in to the air which was heavy with post-luncheon sleep and thick with the feel and scents of Cypriot summer. Her hand-bag, laden with emergency-repair make-up, felt moderately heavy slung as it was over one shoulder. The elaborate scarf she had tied artistically around her neck, with a pretty little butterfly clasp to hold it in place was now limp, like a fading plant. Although Stella would have enjoyed a love affair, she accepted with inherent patience that it just wasn’t possible. That was an advantage to being a bit older – age gives you wisdom, she thought, and she never minded her forty-eight years. Only the most unusual circumstances and only the most private and secure position would allow her to even consider a love affair; and while these conditions did not present themselves to her, there was no way she was going out to look for them. In fact, it could ruin everything. It is odd, she reflected, as she made her way rapidly up the steep incline of the Panayia, how people relate everything to sex. Here in Cyprus, back in England, all over the world, all men relate all things to sex and many women do too. Her heels, unsuitable for the cobbled surface of the road, but worn with stalwart insistence, made loud clicking noises as she walked. Her ankles were slightly swollen from the heat in high heels and this made her smile faintly – women do have these problems to contend with, she thought. Sex, however, was not one of her problems. To be enfolded in the arms of somebody who loved her would be … lovely, she decided. But it wasn’t going to happen, so that was the end of that.

More books from Fiction & Literature

Cover of the book Three by Twain by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book The Hunting Of The Snark by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Home for the Holidays by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book City of Blind Killers by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book El regalo de una musa by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book The Cowboy's Orphan Bride by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Heliopolis by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Au Caucase : Récits militaires by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Mastering English Literature by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Parson Busta Bagafyah by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Destiny's Game (The Sampson Project) by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Die Akte ODESSA by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book À contre-langue et à courre d'idées by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book Leggenda aurea. Storie di grandi santi by Catherine Broughton
Cover of the book HRAs by Catherine Broughton
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy