Most of the houses had a garden surrounded by a high wall over which grew bougainvillaea with crimson, yellow or white blossom.
It was so lovely after the bleakness of the mountains with their bare rugged surfaces and snow-capped peaks that Drogo felt his spirits rising.
He thought what he would like at the moment was not only a glass of wine but somebody to drink it with.
If possible somebody soft and attractive.
Telling himself that he was expecting too much, he looked up at the sky and saw in its translucent dying light the first twinkling star appear.
Vaguely at the back of his mind he remembered his mother or perhaps it had been his Nanny, saying, “wish upon a star!”
Without expressing it aloud, but in his mind, or perhaps his heart, he wished for a glass of champagne and a love
