It was strange for her to watch him resting like this. It was as if he was catching up on years of missed sleep. She didn’t want to leave him for long so she headed along the path by the cabins to the poor dwellings beyond where a local woman sold chickens, eggs and vegetables from her back yard. The old woman had laid down a potato sack and there were five decapitated chickens lying on it and a pile of earthy onions. The chickens were all scrawny and had been plucked inexpertly. Kim pointed to one and scooped up some onions. She walked back to their cabin. The night before she’d told Owen her story about staying at the villa because of the storm and then finding her keys and money stolen; how she’d walked back, then fallen asleep on the beach. She was so sorry she’d worried him. He’d accepted it all without question; he had no suspicions at all. He was feeling faint from the loss of blood and had needed to lie down. She had helped him out of his clothes and unwound the bloody bandages around his torso, had cleaned his wounds and re-bandaged his chest.
