Borgo 3. The Waterfront

The crisp morning light lit the old facade of the restored Caraffa stores in the marina. The resolute patting of the waves against the rocking boats had a soothing effect. Sarah could not believe she was finally here. The islands in the middle of the Mediterranean were rich with a history of travellers who, like herself, had decided to make Malta their home. She had hoped she’d have breakfast at one of the restaurants and cafes overlooking Grand Harbour but most were still closed.

A young man sitting at one of the tables outside with open laptop looked up. ‘I’m afraid we only open at ten.’

“Early bird, I suppose”

“We don’t serve worms either,” he flashed a beautiful set of teeth “unless you want to speak to the boss, that is.”

“Nasty piece of work, is he?” Sarah joked. “Do you mind if I sit at one of the tables?”

“Go ahead, madam. We’ll be open in half an hour.”

Sarah’s phone rang. She reached for her handbag as she sat at the table furthest away from the man.

“Good morning Sarah. Why didn’t you stay for breakfast?” It was Carol.

“Wanted to catch sunrise. I’m at the waterfront. Care to join?”

“No ta.” Carol’s voice sounded drained. “It was a good thing you weren’t here.”

“Are you OK?”

“Anton and I had a tiff. Nothing serious. He left off in a huff. Can’t tell him anything. He made a big fuss about having had to babysit the children yesterday. It’s not as though he often does!”

“I’m sorry, Carol. If it’s awkward having me there, I’m sure I can rent a room until I move to the new place. It’s no problem”

“He just gets on my nerves. I come back from work and I try to be a good mother, I cook, I keep the house clean.”

“But you are, Carol. You’re great with the kids. You know that. He knows that!”

Carol started to cry at the other end of the line. Sarah hesitated. “Carol? Shall I come back now? Look, I’ll be there in 5 minutes”

“No. I’m fine. I need to get to the studio. Fast…erm, I’ll see you this evening for dinner. I’ll cook something special. I’m being melodramatic. It was just a domestic. I’m fine.” The line went dead.

Sarah held the mobile to her ear for a moment. Carol had sounded seriously upset.

“Earl Grey?” The young man was standing right next to Sarah, eyebrows raised.

She stared blankly at him.

“Tea, is it not?” he asked, looking her in the eye, “or would you rather have coffee, madam?” Maltese men can be handsome, she thought.