“The cigarettes, then.”
“Va bene. But the water is too shallow here.”
“We’ll take my boat.”
She pointed to a small boat, white with a green line, that was moored close to them.
“Va bene,” said the boy again.
He rolled his white trousers up above his knees, stripped off his blue jersey, leaving the thin vest that was beneath it, folded the jersey neatly and laid it on the stones, tightened his trousers at the back, then caught hold of the rope by which Vere’s boat was moored to the shore and pulled the boat in.
Very carefully he helped Vere into it.
“I know a good place,” he said, “where you can see right down to the bottom.”
Taking the oars he slowly paddled a little way out to a deep clear pool of the sea.
“I’ll go in here, Signorina.”