Page 41 of Lela's Choice

“Down to the coast at Marsaxlokk Bay. It’s still a traditional fishing port, although according to the concierge, it’s had a few add-ons in recent years to satisfy the tourists.”

“We aren’t tourists.” But she smiled again, all sass and sunshine. Getting confirmation that Sophie was safe had made her lighter, and she was starting to reposition chess pieces in her head in response to Mariella Debrincat’s story. He couldn’t think of anyone other than his mother, who was so cool and focused in an emotional crisis.

“We need to eat as well as make plans. There’s no law that says we can’t do that in pleasant surroundings.”

Rounding the final hill, he knew the second she got her first glimpse of Marsaxlokk. Her involuntary cry of delight gave him a quiet buzz. “This is gorgeous, and you knew it. Thank you.”

He took her hand to amble along the esplanade, past the market stalls selling bric-a-brac, local sweets, small woodcarvings, sunglasses and sun hats. A mix of treats and essentials you suddenly realised you needed to cope with the blasting heat of the sun. When she tried on her third set of sunglasses, Hamish bought them for her.

“Thank you. The glare’s ferocious.”

They covered the full length of the esplanade in silence, stopping occasionally to eavesdrop on other tourists haggling over a meal or a boat ride, or to watch children paddling off the edge of the harbour wall. Hamish came to a halt, Lela beside him. He watched some local fishermen gutting and cleaning the day’s catch. The quiet walk had helped, given he figured both he and Lela had decisions to make after meeting Mariella Debrincat. Disdainful-looking cats surrounded one old fisherman, disinterested until his hand lifted and a scrap was thrown. Immediately the half dozen other felines abandoned nonchalance to vie for the tastiest piece of fish.

Hamish turned Lela back the way they’d come. “The deal is you select a fish and the kitchen cooks it on the spot.” He pointed to a scattering of tables and chairs on the waterfront. Bright tablecloths with matching umbrellas identified each restaurant, while blackboard menus listed dishes of the day.

“Smells and looks delicious.”

“The kitchens are over there.” He waved towards shopfronts and refrigerated barrows, piled high with fresh seafood, across a busy road.

“You pick the fish,” she said.

“Is this some kind of test”—he led her towards a laden barrow—“where you make some monumental character assessment about me based on whether I say, ‘Of course I’ll pick the fish,’ or ‘No, you pick the fish’?”

“My tests are more subtle.” She tipped her sunglasses down. “You’re more familiar with Malta and its fish.”

Hamish made his choice. The waiter directed them to tables at the quayside with blue-and-white-checked cloths under navy umbrellas, following almost immediately with water and a bread basket.

“Life would have been different in our family if we’d had an aunt like Mariella Debrincat.” She nibbled a corner of Maltese flatbread.

“In what way?”

“For a start, she’d have recognised Mari’s loneliness, how vulnerable she was to a boy on the make, and lectured her on birth control, probably supplied the pills.”

“Was the boy on the make?”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know at this distance. But I don’t think so. Dean was out of his depth with Papa, and they gave me different versions of the story. Dean didn’t stay around for Sophie’s birth, but he was a kid himself. Papa said Dean asked Mari for an abortion, and she threw him out. Dean says Papa convinced him to support an abortion, and then Papa disowned Mari when she refused.”

“So your father potentially used abortion as a wedge between your sister and Dean?”There was a lot not to like about old man Vella.

“Papa was shocked and devastated when Mari announced she was pregnant. It wasn’t long after Mama’s death. I’m not sure he was even sane about it; if he thought the threat of abandonment would make her bend to his will.” She fiddled with the sunglasses she’d set on the table, then shot him an up-and-under look. “He had plans for her. Stupid plans. She was stunning, all black curls and smiling eyes, with one dimple. When it peeked out you knew you’d do anything for her. ‘You have a responsibility when you’re part of a dynasty,’ Papa said.”

“What were her other responsibilities?” Hamish probed with care, unwilling to shake her out of this reflective mood, yet struck by how easily her description of her sister could have applied to herself.

“When Mama died, he expected Mari, as the oldest, to look after us all. She took on the cooking, the cleaning, the caring, but she needed something for herself. Along came Dean.”

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t dislike him.” She sighed. “Ultimately he walked out on her, on them.”

“It’s hard to know what goes on between two people, a couple.”This isn’t about me.But learning that ten-year-old Lela had been prepared to put the well-being of her baby niece above all other considerations made him see Olivia’s attempt to bring him to heel in a different light. “What did you do?”

“After Papa issued his ultimatum and Mari left, my brothers and I were on our own for a while. No one in charge. I could do what I wanted before and after school. I gave her money.”

“Where does a child get real money?”

“After I emptied my brothers’ and my piggy banks, I stole money from Papa,” she said.

Not a hint of defiance or regret in her voice, just pride.

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