Page 37 of Angel of Death


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‘Is she suffering with this heat?’ she whispered to Charles who smiled and shook his head.

‘She’s used to it. Don’t forget, this is her country. But travelling is exhausting, even if you’re healthy. I shall get her to lie down as soon as we get on the boat. She could sleep for a couple of hours.’

A few moments later she saw masts against the skyline and caught sight of the sea on the horizon. They must be near the coast.

‘Piraeus,’ Charles confirmed and then they turned into a road running into the port, which was crowded with vessels.

With people, too. Crowds flowed along outside rows of tavernas; girls in shorts and t-shirts, with straw hats on their heads, young men in jeans and sleeveless tops, children pulling along balloons. People sat at tables under fluttering umbrellas, eating grilled meat, fruit, locally caught fish, drinking glasses of corn-coloured retsina which filled the air with the strong scent of resin.

Artists sat in front of easels, painting views of the boats and ocean-going cruise ships, while the crowds jostled around to watch.

‘It looks like a film I once saw about St Tropez,’ Miranda murmured.

‘No, no,’ protested Charles. ‘Piraeus is a working port. St Tropez is a playground now, whatever it was before Brigitte Bardot made it famous.’

The hotel’s boat was moored right at the end of the quayside. They parked beside it and Miranda saw black Greek lettering painted on the white hull. That must be the name of the hotel. Pandora stirred, opening her eyes.

‘Are we here?’

‘Yes.’ Charles got out and came round to help her out of the car.

The chauffeur got out too and began unloading their luggage. A young man in a white shirt and shorts appeared and carried the cases away. Miranda warily followed Charles and Pandora down a gangplank into the sleek white vessel bobbing on the water.

Half an hour later they were heading away, out into a blue, blue sea. Miranda sat on deck, under a striped red and green awning, on a matching lounger, dazzled by the blinding light. There was a strange exhilaration in feeling it fill your eyes. The crewman in white had brought her a tray bearing a jug of iced fresh lemonade, a couple of bottles of spring water, and some glasses.

Charles came up to join her and sat down too, to sip a glass, sighing in relief.

‘That’s better, I was dying of thirst.’

‘So was I,’ she said, her own glass still in her hand, her throat full of the taste of lemons. ‘Does it get cooler in the evening?’

‘A little, but just a little. When I first came out here in the summer I used to sleep in the swimming pool, on a floating lilo. It was the only way I could get cool enough to sleep. But now there is air conditioning in the hotel life will be much easier.’

‘How big is the hotel?’

‘We can sleep a hundred guests – it isn’t one of those gigantic hotels, thank God.’

The passage of the boat churned up white spray which blew over her, cooling her face and body deliciously. Suddenly she saw something silver glint among the waves and sat erect, pointing.

‘Oh. What’s that?’

The silvery sleekness cut through the water and leapt up in a glittering arc. Four of them, in a line, great fish with a familiar outline although she had never set eyes on them before.

‘Dolphins,’ Charles said casually, and no doubt he was blasé about them, had often seen them before, but she was entranced by the thought of the beautiful creatures. ‘You see them quite often out here.’

Breathlessly, she got up and leaned on the side. ‘They’re coming closer!’ The fish were so marvellous she could have cried. She would have loved to touch them, swim with them.

‘They’re very friendly creatures,’ Charles told her. ‘They seem to enjoy human company and they’re very curious about ships.’

The dolphins swam beside the boat for some time, leaping and curvetting, turning wide, curling grins upwards to them, so much like smiles of greeting and friendliness that her delight grew even stronger.

When, tiring of their game, they vanished down into the blue waters again Miranda was very sad to see them go. There was something wonderful, almost godlike, about the great, silver-blue fish.

Charles went down to check on his wife and Miranda lay under the awning, her eyes closing in the drowsy heat. When she woke up Charles was back, leaning on the side, staring ahead.

As she stirred he looked down at her, smiling. ‘We’re nearly there.’

Yawning, she asked, ‘Was I asleep for long?’

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