Territorial Rights

Territorial Rights

Muriel Spark

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 0811222659

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Wheels spin within wheels in Spark’s comedy of betrayals and terrorism, set in her beloved Venice

Layers of intrigue; triangulating love affairs; murders; international spy-craft; adultery; parental interference; the sweet careless rapture of youth; unmarked graves ― Territorial Rights claims much ground and Muriel Spark enjoys a wicked dance on it.

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tall and idealistic, with vivid large brown eyes and a dark skin. Lina’s mother came in with a bowl of fruit, jaunty, still with her slim figure, her hair smartly cut, her dimples and pointed chin. She laughed as Serge, without waiting for the knife and the fruit-plate to come, took a peach and bit right into it with his white teeth. Lina laughed, too. The mother left the room and Serge continued to talk against the noise of traffic and children in the street below. He spoke in the manner of

your researches, like you said you will help me with mine. Don’t worry.’ ‘You promised,’ said Curran, suddenly infuriated, ‘to help her find her father’s grave.’ Violet stood still and dignified, as if the pink and pearl daylight were her natural backdrop. ‘Her father’s grave must be somewhere in Venice,’ Curran said somewhat emphatically. Violet looked at Curran and they smiled at each other. ‘My spirit-stove,’ Lina said, pouncing upon it where it lay behind a box. ‘Now I go up to the top and I

protective smile and asked her what she would like to drink. Violet looked up from her reading. She was on the last page. ‘Yes, do take a drink,’ she said, ‘quite forgot to ask you before.’ Then she went on reading. ‘The trouble is,’ Grace said when she had got her glass of sherry, and Curran had settled in a chair with his whisky, ‘that in fact I used to do a dance-turn, but I wouldn’t call it strip. I was in the entertainment business as a girl like many another of talent. So far so good. But

this it occurred to him that this church might well be a focus-point for contact with Robert. Robert had been studying the architecture; he had been seen in the church and outside it the day he disappeared. Curran now lost interest in Mary but waited politely till she had finished her tea. He walked back with her to the Lord Byron hotel. There were no messages for him. He phoned Violet. ‘Any message for me?’ ‘No’ ‘Thanks. See you later.’ He then set out for the Pensione Sofia by way of the Campo

afternoon he had been ringing up his lawyers and banks. Violet had told him that Italian lire were out of the question, too traceable and too likely to be false; and still, in the early evening of Friday when the arrangements were complete, there was another crisis, a hitch. Violet had received a phone call to say that the Butcher wanted deutschmarks after all. But it all blew over, and after some more cautiously worded phone calls it was agreed that Curran should take his pay-off dollars to the

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