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 the 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 holiday makers 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.
He was turning toward the door labeled 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 gray 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 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 resu
med 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 skillfully 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 exotic 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 traveled 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 h
ave 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.”
In the Footsteps of Dracula Page 12
