Man on Fire by A. J. Quinnell

had worked at the hotel as receptionist. Guido had a way with girls, even shy, very religious, and highly protected girls, and within a few days she had agreed to meet him for a drink after work. She was slight and beautiful, and very direct in speech and manner. She repulsed his early advances, telling him she was a good girl and a virgin. Guido was intrigued. He had never known a virgin. Creasy looked on at the pursuit with benign amusement and agreed readily to stay on in Gozo while Guido talked and charmed and persuaded.
    The conquest took three weeks, and it was not how Guido had imagined. They had gone, late at night, to swim at Ramla Bay and afterward sat on the dull red sands and talked for a long time. She had told him of her life, simple and unexceptional, her family farmers for generations. He found himself talking also about his life and it was difficult to convey because she kept asking "why" and he couldn't answer. The sun was coming up before they stopped talking and he had forgotten his original purpose. Then she told him that her parents would be very upset. In Gozo for a girl to stay out all night was the paramount crime.
    "But we haven't done anything," protested Guido and saw her enigmatic look and realized that perhaps he was not the pursuer.
    They had made love, and she had truly been a virgin and Guido had hesitated but she pulled him into her, cried out, and pulled him against her still harder. Guido would never forget those moments and all the women he had known were suddenly not women.
    In the growing light he saw the blood on her thighs, the only blood he had ever seen caused by love. He watched her wipe it from her and look up at him and smile, shy but proud, and he knew that his life had changed.
    They had walked together up over the hill, through Nadur to her parents' farm. Her father, already in the fields, watched them, still and silent, as they approached.
    "This is Guido," she had said. "We are going to be married."
    Her father had nodded and gone back to work. He knew his daughter. A night away from home meant a son-in-law.
    They were married in the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul in Nadur. A young priest officiated. He was big and strong and reminded Guido a little of Creasy. He didn't look like a priest and his manner was abrupt and gruff, but the people of Nadur liked him. He worked hard and was practical. Farmers appreciate that. Gozitans give everyone nicknames and this priest they called "the Cowboy."
    Guido had been concerned over how Creasy would react to this marriage. They had been friends for over fifteen years and had hardly ever been separated. But Creasy had been pleased and not really surprised. He had realized the girl loved Guido and had seen the strength in her and was happy for his friend.
    He was best man at the wedding, silent and as gruff as "the Cowboy," and afterward at the wedding feast had drunk a lot of the strong Gozo wine and felt in himself a great deal of Guido's joy. It was happiness by proxy, but for all that a good emotion.
    Julia had instinctively understood the friendship and didn't resent it. She looked upon Creasy as an integral part of Guido. When they left to go to Naples, Creasy had taken them to the airport, and when he bent down to kiss her cheek she had put her arms around him and held onto him for a long moment, and when she drew away he saw the tears in her eyes.
    "Our home is your home," she said simply.
    He nodded, his face strangely set, and said, "If he snores at night, just whistle-it shuts him up."
    She had smiled and turned away unable to say any more. In the plane she had asked Guido what Creasy would do and he had answered that he would go and find a war somewhere.
    So Guido returned to Naples with a wife and bought back the lease on his property and turned it into the Pensione Splendide. His mother's cup had run over and the church in Positano was bright with candles.
    Creasy had visited them in Naples several times, coming or going to