by Basil Copper
made. That they were friends he had no doubt; with their wealth and background the couple had no reason
to befriend an obscure scientist other than on purely social grounds.
The girl was laughing down at him as she drew herself up on to the raft with lithe supple movements. He
trod water, then rested his forearms on the warm surface of the inlay that rocked gently in the swell.
Once again he noticed that Ravenna had very beautiful teeth. Like everything else about her; for the
rich, he thought with inward amusement, everything was perfect.
“I am so sorry, Mr Thompson,” she was saying in her very precise English.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She shook her head, sending a fine spray of water from the dark tangle of her hair.
“Merely that I was thoughtless. I had forgotten that you were recovering from a severe accident and
thought to race you to the raft. But you kept up well. I do hope I have not hindered your recovery.”
Thompson laughed.
“Hardly.”
But as he drew himself up to sit beside her, there were tingling pains in his legs which warned him that
he must not over-exert himself at this stage in his convalescence.
“You are sure?”
She was serious again now.
He nodded.
“Quite sure. But thank you for your concern.”
The goodness of salt air and the gentle murmur of the sea, combined with the healing rays of the sun,
made him even more conscious of the importance of good health. Without it life was practically
meaningless. He had a quick flash of the oncoming car and closed his eyes quickly to blot out the impact.
Ravenna was very close to him now.
“Is everything all right? You turned quite pale.”
He was touched by her concern.
“It was really nothing Just a momentary recollection of my accident. The contrast between then and now
was quite overwhelming.”
“That is good then. Let us enjoy the sun.”
She lay back on the raft, stretching out long legs, closing her eyes against the brilliant light.
Thompson did the same. Rarely had he felt so contented as time slipped by. Presently he slept. Later, he
turned over. Somehow his flank brushed against the girl’s side. In an instant she was upon him, her mouth
on his in a fierce, primitive kiss. Almost without any awareness of what he was doing, he had undressed.
The girl was already naked and they made love in the blazing sun, oblivious to their surroundings. Once
an elderly man swam close and gave them a disbelieving stare before splashing loudly away in the
direction of the shore. When they had exhausted their lust, they drew apart, Ravenna laughing into his
face.
“I hope I didn’t hurt your leg!”
Thompson laughed in turn.
“Hardly.”
They quickly resumed their costumes and plunged into the sea, holding on to the ropes at the side of the
raft, staring intently into one another’s eyes.
“I do not know how that happened,” he began hesitantly.
Ravenna gave him another of her secret smiles.
“Does it matter?”
“Perhaps not.”
On the raft Thompson had noticed that the girl had a small, triangular tattoo high up on her right thigh,
which seemed to contain a minuscule heraldic symbol within it. Now, as they trod water at the edge of the
raft, face to face, he discovered for the first time that she had a similar, but smaller symbol in the
deep valley between her breasts. She intercepted his gaze.
“It is a fancy within our family. We are very numerous and widespread. All the women wear this crest. By
that way we can know one another.”
Thompson was somewhat taken aback. He hoped it did not show on his face.
“I do not understand. Isn’t that rather an intimate form of identification?”
Ravenna laughed once more, showing very white teeth.
“You do not understand, certainly. We live mostly in tropical climates. The women wear low-cut dresses
and are often in bathing suits.”
“You are extraordinarily like your father,” Thompson said.
Ravenna looked at him with a serious expression on her face.
“He would be very amused—or annoyed—to hear you say that.”
Before he could ask what she meant the girl went on, “Let us return to the shore. I see that the car has
arrived.”
She must have had extraordinary eyesight because, as they swam slowly back toward the beach, it was some
while before he could pick out Karolides’s opulent vehicle in the bathing-club car park. Thompson felt
embarrassed and ill at ease, but the Greek was in good spirits.
“I trust you have had a pleasant afternoon?”
“Wonderful!” Thompson had blurted out, but the dark-haired man did not seem to notice anything amiss.
Later, after the couple had showered and dressed, they drove back to the hotel, the girl chattering away
in Greek and Karolides listening intently as he steered the big machine skilfully and safely between what
Thompson regarded as dangerously narrow gaps in the traffic, something he would never have attempted
himself. Perhaps it was the residue of his accident, but he still felt nervous over motor vehicles.
Despite his protests, he was again the guest of the pair at dinner that evening, though he was
disappointed when the girl left the table early, saying she had an appointment to meet friends at the
Casino. After the two men had lingered over coffee and liqueurs in a side salon, they parted amicably and
Thompson went back to his room. He spent half the night lying awake, consumed alternately with happiness
and guilt.
IV
It was with mingled relief and disappointment that Thompson saw that there was no sign of his hosts in
the Magnolia dining room when he came down late to breakfast the next morning. He later learned from the
hotel proprietor that Karolides and Ravenna had gone up the coast to visit friends for two or three days.
Left to himself, Thompson went for solitary walks on the heights above the hotel, but neither the sun nor
the romantic vistas of sea and sky held his attention any more. He wandered aimlessly and at last
sprawled in the shade of a great cypress tree and tried to clarify his whirling thoughts.
He had never been in love before. Somehow, the experiences so commonplace to the majority of mankind had-
eluded him. It was true he had not sought it; he had been too absorbed in his scientific work. He had
been an only child, and his parents had died years before and he had few surviving relatives. Yet
something disturbed him about Ravenna’s attitude. A beautiful, wealthy and obviously sought-after girl
who moved in the international set, why had she chosen him of all people? Or was he merely a passing
fancy to a woman to whom having sex with an almost complete stranger was as commonplace and meant no more
than if another woman accepted a cup of coffee from a friend?
Yet the more he mulled it over, he could not accept that. He did not wish to, of course, and a small hope
was growing within him, as a flame ignited in dry undergrowth slowly blossoms into a roaring furnace. But
he could not afford to get too carried away or he might be in for a terrible disappointment. So he busied
himself in mundane matters as the day slowly passed; he wrote letters to friends in the north of England
and in London; and to colleagues in his laboratory. Or rather, letters to the former and ex
otic cards to
the latter.
He still had several weeks of his convalescence to run, and he would take things slowly and see what
developed on Ravenna’s return. Then, on the third morning, a sudden thought struck him and he sought out
the proprietor of the Magnolia to ask if the couple had quit the hotel. That suave gentleman smiled and
said they were due back that afternoon. Reassured, he ate a leisurely lunch at a restaurant in the town
and later in the day again swam out into the bay and then sunbathed on the rocks, hoping that Karolides
and his daughter would have reappeared when he got back to the hotel.
He saw the big green touring car was parked in the concourse and a hotel employee was carrying in
luggage. He hurried into the lobby with a beating heart. He met Karolides on the staircase coming down,
immaculate in a white tropical suit and a scarlet tie. He started to ask if the couple had had a pleasant
visit with friends but something stamped on Karolides’s face stopped him. There was an ineffable sadness
about the mouth and eyes. He took the Englishman familiarly by the arm and they went down the stairs
together. He anticipated Thompson’s next question.
“Ravenna is resting,” he said. “She is very ill, I am afraid. Our trip was not a social occasion,
unfortunately.”
Thompson felt a tightening of the heart and expressed his concern. The two men were at the bottom of the
staircase now and Karolides looked at him gravely.
“Shall we go into the lounge? It is always deserted at this hour. If you could spare a few minutes I
should be grateful. It is most important.”
Thompson readily agreed, and soon the two men were seated on gilt chairs with a marble table between
them, in the empty silence of the vast room, where rococo mirrors gave back their pale images,
illuminated by the misty light that filtered through the drawn blinds. Karolides began without preamble.
“You may think what I am going to tell you is an impertinence and my request an imposition, but I would
be grateful if you would hear me out.”
Thompson found he could not speak, but gave the merest of nods. Had he found out something about him and
Ravenna? Surely she would not have told him? But he need not have worried. It was nothing like that.
Karolides leaned forward until his hypnotic eyes were boring into the other’s.
“As I noted before, Mr Thompson, you are a blood specialist and a very distinguished one. I might say, in
fact, one of the two leading specialists in the world. Ravenna is extremely ill, I am afraid. She suffers
from a rare blood deficiency. So rare is her group that only a handful of people in the world have the
same.”
Amid his alarm at the state of Ravenna’s health, Thompson felt a quickening of interest but he kept
silent as the other went on.
“We have travelled the world to find a cure but without result. She has remissions when we are able to
get occasional transfusions, but that is not the answer. I happen to own a rather celebrated clinic along
the coast here. We have run your particulars through our computer and have obtained a fascinating CV.”
He held up his hand as the other started forward.
“Please hear me out, Mr Thompson, and forgive my presumption. You must know that such details are readily
available to the medical fraternity on a worldwide basis.”
He smiled thinly.
“In fact, to the non-medical fraternity also; such is the spread of these electronic marvels. You are one
of that small select band of people who have this extremely rare group. As I have said, I am not a
medical man and I forget its actual designation.”
He lowered his voice and leaned forward again, his pale, distinguished face bearing a supplicating
expression.
“I know you are on holiday; I know you have had a bad accident. And I am asking a great deal. What I am
attempting to say is this. I suspect you have a growing fondness for Ravenna. It really is a matter of
life and death. I implore you to help us by giving some of your blood. In other words to undergo a
transfusion at my clinic under the expert supervision of Professor Kogon, whose name may not be unknown
to you.”
He paused, his eyes never leaving the other’s face, and Thompson felt a little rivulet of perspiration
trickle down his forehead. He mopped it away with his handkerchief to conceal his confusion. And
Karolides had been right. He was more than fond of the girl and alarmed and dismayed by this threat to
her safety. He did know Professor Kogon’s work well. He was also a blood specialist, but in a different
area, and he had written some fascinating papers which explored hitherto unknown forms of research.
Instead of answering the millionaire directly he said something very strange, that appeared to have come
unbidden to his mind.
“My great-grandfather was of Greek extraction ...” he began haltingly.
Karolides gave him a brilliant smile.
“Ah! So Greek meets Greek! I knew there was a rapport between us as soon as we first met. It is a million
to one chance that you and Ravenna have the same blood typing. As I have already said, I know little or
nothing of medical matters, but the professor and his colleagues are working on a synthetic compound
which may, if perfected, save her. But that will take time, obviously. In the short term, you are our
only hope. I can assure you that the earth is yours if you will agree to my suggestion.”
Thompson gathered himself together.
“You realize this can only be temporary ...” he began.
Karolides put a hand on his arm.
“That is all we ask. We have found, in fact, that with care the remission can last as long as six months.
Anything can happen after that.”
Thompson hid his surprise as best he could.
“But,” he answered, “I will do everything I can.”
Karolides’s face was transformed.
“Then you agree!”
“Certainly! Anything to help Ravenna.”
~ * ~
V
Thompson sat back in his cane chair and looked out toward a clear blue horizon. He still felt a little
weak, even after a day, but he relished the sight of Ravenna’s smiling face. Karolides’s gleaming clinic
had been everything he had said, and Thompson and Professor Kogon had had interesting conversations on
their specialities and had compared notes on their individual research. The actual transfusion procedure
had rather puzzled him and he did not recognize the equipment in use, which Kogon had assured him was the
latest technology and embodied a machine which he and his colleagues had themselves designed.
In fact its workings were unlike anything in his own experience, and Thompson had actually fainted during
the minor operation. When he came to himself he was lying on a bed in another room, with one of Kogon’s
colleagues raising a small glass of cognac to his lips. As soon as he was fit to travel, Karolides had
driven him back to the Magnolia, saying that Ravenna was staying on at the clinic overnight as the
professor wanted to keep her under observation.
In his euphoric mood, the Greek had suggested a fee so munificent that it had taken Thompson’s breath
away, but he had smilingly declined all his host’s offers. Karolides had finally given up with good
grace, but had insisted that Thompson should be his guest for the remainder of his holiday and that he
would pay all his bills at the hotel. In the end Thompson had graciously given way, but he had privately
resolved to buy Ravenna some extravagant piece of jewellery to express his feelings toward her and also
to repay Karolides’s own generosity.
Ravenna had only just come back from the clinic that morning and the Greek had told him that she was
resting. She had come to his bedside after the operation, and before he had quite recovered had expressed
her gratitude in a most touching manner, impulsively seizing his hand and kissing it, much to his
embarrassment. Just before lunch, Karolides had met him in the lounge by appointment and had brought him
a sheaf of computer print-outs relating both to the transfusion and to the components of both Ravenna’s
blood and his own. They were identical, as Thompson had expected, but there was a curious symbol which
occurred again and again throughout the calculations; vaguely, it reminded him of the curious tattoos on
Ravenna’s thigh and breast.
“Greek, is it not? But my knowledge of Greek is very hazy at this distance in time.”
Karolides gave him a smile in which sweetness was mingled with melancholy.
“It is our own private notation, which you will not find in any textbook or lexicon. It refers to agape,
which, as you must know, is the word for ‘love’ in the Greek language.”
Somehow, Thompson felt a little uneasy at this and wished to turn the conversation in another direction.
As though sensing his thoughts, his companion added, “You will be quite yourself in a day or two, Mr