by Basil Copper
steely glint to the hazy sea and far out, the dim lights of vessels passing and re-passing on their
mysterious errands. Thompson shivered suddenly, though it had nothing to do with the slight breeze which
had suddenly sprung up. Presently he too went in to his solitary dinner.
II
Thompson saw nothing of his fellow guests the following morning, for he breakfasted late and it was past
ten o’clock before he quit the table. He took the hotel bus the short trip into town and did various
errands. He called in at the post office, where there were several letters awaiting him, none of any
importance; went to Thomas Cook; and drank an aperitif at a cafe terrace, in a shady corner overlooking
the sea, where he never ceased to marvel at the passing parade of grotesque human beings that aimlessly
meandered to and fro along the Grand Cor niche.
Later in the afternoon he would swim, but for the moment he was content to idle away an hour or two in
such trivial pursuits. He passed the interval before lunch in investigating the cool interiors of two
elegant bookshops and then walked back up the dusty road that wound among luxurious villas, until he
reached the hotel. Guy, the dark-haired waiter who usually served his lunch, brought Thompson a Cinzano
with ice and lemon on the lower terrace before he went to his room to freshen up.
He ate lunch in his usual corner of the dining room, oblivious of the animated hubbub about him, and
after a reasonable interval strolled back down the hill to the town, where he changed into bathing trunks
and enjoyed a leisurely swim out to a tethered raft about half a mile from shore. The freshness of the
sea and the salt air did his tired limbs good and he lay spread-eagled on the raft for what must have
been two or three hours. No one came near him, for most of the other swimmers, who included many young
children, kept to the shallows close in shore.
Once or twice sailing boats and larger yachts passed quite close to him, and just before he quit the raft
for his return swim, a blonde girl, who was sunning herself on the stern of a rather palatial vessel,
switched on her portable radio, and the nostalgic voice of Charles Trenet singing “La Mer” came drifting
across the water, making an appropriate background to his return to the beach.
He took the bus back this time, as he was feeling rather tired after his exertions and once again climbed
up to the high terrace for the tranquil hour before dinner which he had come to enjoy. But on this
occasion there were some loudmouthed English tourists at an adjoining table so he came down early. As he
was passing into the dining room he was faintly surprised to be accosted by the tall, commanding figure
of Karolides.
“Mr Thompson, is it not?”
The Greek, once more immaculate in white tropical drill, paused with amusement, noting the faint flicker
that passed across his fellow guest’s face.
“Oh, I admit I looked you up in the hotel register. You seemed rather lonely in your corner by yourself
last night, so I wondered whether you would care to join us for dinner this evening.”
“That is extremely kind of you”, Thompson stammered. “If you’re sure I wouldn’t be an intrusion...”
The other put a hand on his shoulder in a sudden intimate gesture.
“Not at all. We’d love to have you. Ravenna is easily bored, I’m afraid, and there are so few guests here
of a suitable age.”
He indicated the elderly diners in the background with a wry gesture, and the amusement in his eyes
prompted a hesitant laugh from Thompson.
“Of course. It’s very kind of you. If you’re sure ...”
“Certainly, Mr Thompson. Come along.”
The Greek glided effortlessly between the restaurant tables so that Thompson had difficulty in keeping up
with him. As they approached the corner where the girl was sitting he saw that she was even more
beautiful than he had imagined. Her face was a perfectly round oval and she had the most extraordinary
eyes he had ever seen; a deep emerald green which seemed to have unclouded depths in them, so that
Thompson felt almost embarrassed to look into them. But he noticed also that though she could not have
been more than twenty-six or twenty-eight, and her complexion was smooth and perfect, yet there was a
pallor which should not have been there.
“This is Ravenna.”
The girl acknowledged the Englishman’s presence with a slight inclination of the head. Her dark hair was
cut short and immaculately coiffed, and she wore gold earrings of a conch-like shell pattern which set
off her beauty in a way the guest had not seen on any other woman. The table was in a railed-off
enclosure that was banked with flowers. The maitre d’hotel and a wine waiter were hovering in attendance
and the latter hurried forward to draw out the chair for the Greek. Thompson’s speculations were cut
short by Karolides indicating to him the vacant chair which one of the waiters had immediately pulled up
and, almost before he was seated, an extra dinner service was being put in position on the white linen
tablecloth.
He had hardly time to settle himself, when Karolides announced, “You will be our guest, of course.”
He waved away the Englishman’s protests.
“Think nothing of it. A great pleasure to have you with us.”
He spoke perfect English, and Thompson guessed that he had mastered a number of languages, which would
obviously be necessary in his dealings with the international world of commerce.
“Mr Thompson is a distinguished man of science, my dear. But now he is recuperating from a bad motor
accident. It is up to us to help entertain him and rescue him from the boredom endemic to the lot of one
who is passing a solitary sojourn in a Riviera hotel. Is it not so, Mr Thompson?”
Karolides smiled and the distinction of his countenance and the beauty of his daughter erased the
momentary irritation Thompson had again felt at being introduced in such a manner. He wondered how his
host had got the information. But his slight embarrassment passed as the girl again inclined her head and
said in a low, musical voice, “I am so sorry to hear that. I do hope you will soon be better.”
Thompson mumbled some banal expression of thanks and was relieved when Karolides started studying the
menu and there was a sudden flurry of waiters around the table. During the transmission of the orders and
the decanting of the wine, the guest again had the opportunity of studying the couple. His first
impression of the girl was reinforced rather than diminished as the meal progressed. As might have been
expected the food and the wine were of the finest quality and, perhaps slightly under the influence of
the latter, Thompson found his stiffness relaxing and soon he was completely under the spell of the pair.
Karolides spoke eruditely and entertainingly about a wide variety of topics; firstly regarding his
worldwide business interests and particularly his Greek shipping fleet.
From there he advanced to literature and the arts in general and Thompson then realized that the reason
his host’s name was familiar was because he had donated wings to hospitals in Greece, Great Britain and
America and had also given prodigious sums to art foundations and a great many charities.
Ravenna too was well read and steeped in the classics as well as modern authors; and she seemed equally
informed on a wide range of interests in the ar
ts, including painting, ballet and music. As the meal
progressed, Thompson lost his reserve and started to open his heart a little more freely. As a scientist
he had never had enough time for the gentler pursuits which occupied much of the leisure hours of the
wider world, and when he was able to converse on an equal level with Karolides on some obscure literary
point he felt his spirits lifting and the Greek seemed equally appreciative of his guest’s background and
taste.
When the evening was over Thompson felt as though he had known this couple all his life. A naturally
reserved man, he was drawn out by the brilliant conversation of this pair and especially through
Karolides, was led into another world; one where money was no object. But this was no mere vulgar matter
of acquisition but the accumulation of funds for specific purposes; although he was too courteous and
tactful to mention it, his host had done much to alleviate suffering and poverty in the world with the
great outpouring of his wealth; this Thompson already knew from a quick study of the financial pages of
national newspapers.
The girl too, with her own interest in art and culture, made a deep impression on him, as might have been
expected. He did wonder why, with all the assets at their disposal, the couple did not stay at one of the
big international hotels that were scattered along the coast, but assumed that natural modesty and the
discretion already displayed by the couple were the reasons behind it. After all, it was fairly obvious
that they would be recognized at one of the great palaces and would probably run into friends in the
international set. He remembered too, that the girl’s health had not been good. Then he dismissed the
question from his mind; after all, it was none of his business.
When they parted at the entrance to the dining room, Karolides laid his smooth, manicured hand on his
guest’s shoulder in a discreet gesture of affection.
“Consider us your friends”, he said in a deep, resonant voice.
Thompson saw that the girl’s eyes were fixed on him with a particular brilliance and he could not resist
their appeal. He mumbled his thanks and made his way somewhat awkwardly up the fine marble staircase with
the wrought-iron balustrade that led to the guests’ rooms, instead of taking the small, creaky lift. When
he sought his bed he lay awake for a long time, listening to the distant murmur of the sea. He felt a
little feverish, but his somewhat overheated state owed nothing to the wine.
III
Thompson was up early the next morning, bathing and shaving himself quickly and was downstairs for
breakfast by half-past eight. When he entered the dining room he felt slight disappointment, mingled with
relief, to find it occupied merely by a sprinkling of middle-aged ladies toying with their coffee and
croissants. Disappointment at not seeing Ravenna; relief that he might not have to make small talk in the
presence of her father, when he wanted to take a walk with her alone and find out more about her.
The illness of which he had heard also intrigued him; as a scientist as well as a medical man, for he had
several doctorates, he was professionally concerned as well as in a friendly capacity. But there had been
a pallor in her features which he had noted and which was not normal in such a young and vivacious woman,
though it had not been obvious the night before. Possibly the wine and the warmth of the summer night had
temporarily dispelled it.
He was just going out when he saw, through the wide windows facing the sea, Karolides and Ravenna passing
along the front of the building where they got into a big open touring car parked in the driveway. As
they disappeared down the steep, winding road that led to the Corniche and the open sea, he had a sudden
stab of disappointment. It was absurd, of course, as he barely knew the couple, but there was something
about the girl that captivated him. He had been too busy in his career ever to contemplate marriage and
now that he was approaching forty, and had narrowly escaped death a short time before, he was conscious
that there were a great many things in life that he had missed. A wife, for one thing.
Most men regarded matrimony or at least, carnal love, as one of the most important things in life, if not
the most important, and he had smiled rather superciliously when listening to colleagues’ stories of
frustrated hopes or amorous adventures. Now things were different, and he had a glimmer of hope that
Ravenna might find him attractive. It was utterly absurd, of course, because she and her father lived a
jet-set life; travelling the world in great luxury; and obviously me girl would attract many men. In
fact, she might already be engaged to be married. He had never thought of that. He bit his lip with
frustration, mumbled some banality to the restaurant manager and went out into the blinding sunlight and
set off to walk down to the town, which was slowly composing itself from out of the morning haze.
He wandered idly about the shops, keeping mostly in the shade, avoiding the tourists and holidaymakers
who thronged the beaches fringing the Corniche. He ate a frugal lunch at a small restaurant in a side
street where fans in the ceiling distributed cooled air from small vents. As he went out and back toward
the beach, he was arrested by the sight of Karolides’s big green touring car, parked outside a bar. As he
approached, the couple came out of a gown shop a little farther down, the girl laden with
expensive-looking parcels. Their smiles were open and welcoming.
“Just the person we wanted to see,” said the Greek, after they had shaken hands.
“I have to attend to business here in town, but Ravenna wants to go swimming. Would you be kind enough to
accompany her?”
Thompson was caught unawares.
“Certainly,” he said hesitantly. “But I have no costume.”
Karolides smiled again.
“That can soon be taken care of. I own a small club out on the point there. They will supply you with a
costume and towels. Ravenna is a member, of course, so you will have no difficulty. And I will come by
with the car and pick you up at six o’clock, yes.”
Thompson felt the girl’s hand on his elbow and he joined her in the back seat, while Karolides drove
swiftly but well along the Corniche. Presently they came to a place where a calanque, a sort of creek,
joined the sea. Here, on the headland was a dazzling white building, flanked by ornamental trees and
bushes that threw welcome shade. There were terraces, striped parasols, men and girls engaged in idle
chatter and, somewhere an orchestra was playing, or, Thompson mused, perhaps it was a radio.
There were waves and shouted invitations from the people on the terrace as Karolides drew the big machine
to a halt, but he smilingly shook his head. Thompson and the girl got out, their shadows dark and
clear-etched in the dust.
“Until six o’clock, then,” and Karolides expertly reversed and drove smoothly away along the coast road.
Thompson followed the girl, who had not uttered a word during the drive, waiting while she spoke to one
or two people at tables and then they were in the cool interior of the club where a discreet manager
summoned a white-coated attendant who led them to locker rooms for men and women and left them.
“Ten minutes,” Ravenna said in a low voice.
“I’ll be on the terrace,” Thompson said.
&nb
sp; He was turning toward the door labelled HOMMES when he found the attendant at his elbow. He thrust a
plastic case in his hand which bore the printed figure 6 on its cover. Once inside the cubicle, Thompson
found scarlet trunks, toilet things, a comb, soap and brush, and three huge towels. When he had hung his
clothes in a grey steel locker and fixed the key by its cord on to the elasticized waistband of his
trunks, he surveyed himself in the mirror.
He felt the sight he presented would probably not disgrace the girl, but he was a little worried about
the scars on his legs—souvenirs of his accident—although he knew they would fade to thin white lines
within a few weeks. He went outside into the blinding sunshine and sat down in a cane chair to await
Ravenna. The sea looked green and cool and inviting, and there were metal steps with cork inserts that
led down from the promenade into the gentle undulations of the water.
He turned as a shadow fell across the tiling. He was prepared for the sight of an exceptional woman, but
he was so struck by the bronzed apparition that bent over his chair that he let out an involuntary gasp
of admiration. The white bikini made a striking contrast to her brown skin which, however, gradually
faded out toward the throat, leaving her face clear and free from the ravages of the southern sun. But
the pallor he had previously noted had receded, and the smiling young woman pretended not to see his
embarrassment and laughingly told him to follow her.
She made a perfect dive from the swimming club promenade into deep water and was already creaming her
way to a distant moored raft before Thompson had even put his somewhat hesitant feet upon the ladder. The
water was cold and stinging at the first shock, as it always was in this part of the Mediterranean, but
the warmth returned to his limbs as he ploughed doggedly on behind the sparkling wake the girl was
leaving. She swam with beautiful flowing strokes, and he guessed that she had been an expert swimmer from
a very early age.
Now Thompson felt a sense of well-being that he had not had for some time and he realized that his
complete recovery could only be a matter of weeks. It was not only his medical expertise that told him
this, but it was reinforced by the beauty of his surroundings and the presence of the new friends he had