The sea was smooth as glass and as we roared westward at nearly twenty knots a liner was steaming into the Bay between Capri and the Sorrento peninsula, looking very big by comparison with the yachts whose white sails scudded round it. We passed Procida with its castle prison and the crater harbour of Porto d’Ischia. At Casamicciola, where we landed, the villas and hotels shone in the sunlight and the air was laden with the scent of blossom.
Zina took me to a small hotel where she was apparently known. We had a drink whilst our baths were prepared and I asked her what they were like. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘They are natural hot springs. They say that they are radioactive. I do not know anything about that. All I know is that you feel good afterwards.’ She glanced down at my leg. ‘Is that made of metal?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Some aluminium alloy.’
She nodded. ‘Then I should not take it inside the cubicle. The steam will not be good for it.’
‘The steam won’t hurt it,’ I answered. My voice sounded angry and I could feel the blood coming up into my face. I hate being reminded that the damned thing isn’t a part of me.
‘Do you never take advice?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Sometimes,’ I answered.
‘Very well then. Do not be stupid about your leg. The steam will do it no good. When you are inside, pass it out to the attendant.’
I laughed. ‘I’ll do no such thing. As for the steam being bad for it, there’s one advantage about an artificial limb, you can always go to a shop and get another if it gets rusty.’
Her eyes were suddenly violently angry. ‘You have not had one of these radio baths before, no?’