The Villa of Secrets

Work went on the following day much as it had the day before, but this time, Cleo stayed close to the camp, helping to rebuild Villa Ariadne.

The sun was low when she paused for a break, and a late-afternoon light gilded the villa’s shattered rooftops and the olive and lemon trees that still leaned drunkenly from the storm.

The air was heavy with damp earth and salt, but a fragile peace had settled over the area. Birds had returned, hesitantly at first, and now their song seemed to filter through the ancient villa’s shattered windows and echo down its corridors and round its walls.

It seemed, to Cleo, that the place was beginning to wake from a long sleep, its beams, floorboards, pillars and rafters slowly regaining consciousness, spurred on by the cheerful shouts, singing and activity of the workers.