Hide and Seek (Write Awards 2014)

Chapter 12

The Phoenicia Hotel, a landmark since the late 1940's, stood just outside the city walls.The story for Sean would be that Callie was catching a film and that they planned to go home together. The Phoenicia had a taxi rank, so it was a natural meeting point.

Dana hurried across the square that separated the hotel from the City Gate. The area was a busy place in the early evening, crowded with commuters and tourists. Sean broke into a smile at at her approach; behind him she saw a little three seater electric taxi.

'Signorina, your carriage awaits.' He patted the little vehicle and helped her in behind the driver.

This is different, she thought as the taxi slowly and silently weaved its way through the pedestrian traffic of Triq ir-Repubblika, the road that ran top to toe of the city from the Gate to Fort St Elmo.

'May I ask where this chariot is taking us?' she enquired.

'To paraphrase our mutual friend, Cavafy, 'It's the journey, not the destination that matters.'

Dana smiled at Sean's allusion to their first meeting, and realised that she didn't care where they were going.

'I was surprised to hear such a sexy young Aussie girl reciting lines from 'Ithaca'...'

'Oh yeah, and you are practically geriatric, you must be at least, what, thirty?'

'Did you google me?'

'No. Callie did.' Dana returned to the subject of 'Ithaca'. 'I've known that poem since I was little. An old family friend lives by it, he'll recite it at the drop of a hat.'

They passed the famous Caffé Cordina on their left and the imposing Grand Master's Palace to their right. The little car turned and headed downhill to Grand Harbour. A brightly painted boat waited for them.

'We are going on a cruise?' she ventured to Sean as he handed her into the boat.

'More of a crossing - this is the best way to travel at sunset, don't you think?'

As the little boat glided across the dark water, she had to agree.

The journey took about ten minutes, soon they were climbing up onto the landing not far from the ancient Fort St Angelo. Dana marvelled at the beauty of the stone bathed in the light of the setting sun. Sean took her hand to help her out of the boat and didn't let go as they made their way up a maze of alleys. 

They wandered and he told how 700 Knights of St John and the people of Malta, just a few thousand, had held off a force of more than 30,000 Ottoman Turks for five long months during the Great Siege in 1565. It was only after the siege that the fortified city of Valletta was built so Birghu, neighbouring Senglea and Cospicua were the much older than the capital.

'I thought that this place was called Vittoriosa.'

‘I prefer Birghu, that's how the older people refer to it,' he explained.

They stopped in front of a house that dated from the 13th century. Looking up at the twin arched window with zigzag decoration, Sean said in wonder, 'Imagine - this place not only survived the Great Siege but three years of bombardment by the Luftwaffe in World War II!'

She followed his gaze to the starkly beautiful decoration.

Sean ushered her through the heavy wooden door of the house opposite. It seemed to be a gallery filled with contemporary art.

'Must tell Callie about this place,' she said. 'She's into art in a big way, she works at the National Gallery of ... wow, this is magic.''

They had arrived in a courtyard lit by candlelight. Tables of dark wood and chairs with silken cushions were set around a lemon tree. The scents jasmine and citrus mingled in the soft, evening air.