Something secretive was occurring in the cove; I just sensed it. ‘ Something funny is going on over there,’ I said.
We were sitting on the terrace looking out over the sea. A speck of yellow light came from the rock face, someone’s house built into the cove.
Then it was dark, it could have been an illusion, a mirage, a trompe l’oeil
‘Seriously Jo, don’t you think that light was strange, there one minute, gone the next?’
The night was inky black, it was hard to figure out where the sea began and the sky ended. The only hint of difference was the whispering sound of the ocean, and that weird light.
‘Dunno. Pirates hiding their treasure maybe.’
The cove was the perfect spot for skulduggery. It was cut off from the rest of the beach, hard to access unless by boat. Whoever lived there must have had supplies brought in that way.
Positano was growing more mysterious by the minute.