Very soon she was feeling bashful about the whole thing — within minutes of the man turning and striding away, in fact: having made an embarrassing noise like a sheep being throttled, she’d run backwards for half a dozen paces, then forwards for rather more till she came to an archway that led through into the arena. There she’d stumbled across to lean against the wall, where Adam and Joe had found her. What would they say, anyway? she asked herself as she listened to Adam describing the present-day bullfights held in the amphitheatre. Adam might have some sensible explanation — someone in fancy dress, or an actor in costume rehearsing for some pageant — and Joe would dismiss it as my imagination. She had to admit that both explanations were entirely feasible. She wondered why they failed totally to convince her. She fell into step beside Adam as Joe led them off round the perimeter of the arena. Predictably, he was still ranting on about Christians being martyred.
