doing.
‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘There were some very interesting discussions today on the differential diagnoses between acute lymphatic and acute myelogenous forms of the disease.’
I stopped.
‘Really?’ she said. Her eyes were holding mine, shining. Her hair dripped again and she shook her head to flick off the water.
‘Yes, really,’ I said, laughing. Then, ‘No, not really, not at all.’
Our wine arrived and our food not long after that and as we ate, Marian began to grow more lively again, more animated.
‘Just the thing for a damp day outside.’
I agreed, and saw her come to life before me, waving her hands around as she spoke, talking about the places she’d seen in Europe, the places she wanted to go next.
‘And Paris,’ she said. ‘There’s still so much to see here. God, I love this town.’
‘Where do you come from?’ I asked. ‘Where’s home?’
She darkened slightly at the memory of her family.
‘New York. The Hamptons.’
And though I knew little of American geography, I knew that meant that when she’d said her parents had money, they had serious money.
‘It’s my sister I miss the most,’ she said, suddenly, bluntly.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think of painful things.’
‘That’s OK. I’d fought too much with my parents to stay. It had to happen. They were never going to understand that the world has changed, that it’s not the one they grew up in. Even Amagansett. I just miss my sister.’
‘Do you write to her?’
Marian nodded.
‘But I don’t often hear back. It’s possible they’re hiding my letters.’
‘They’d do that? I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and suddenly looked so miserable I wanted to put my hand out to touch her. I didn’t.
I poured her some more wine.
‘So, what do you want to know about Hunter?’ I asked, smiling.
She laughed. ‘Was it that obvious?’
I nodded.
‘So, you know, I’ve been thinking. Easter is coming and I have some time off. I’ve never been to England, well, apart from the stopover at London airport . . .’
She trailed off, for once seeming unconfident, and I decided to help her out.
‘Would you like to meet Hunter?’
She almost exploded with joy.
‘Oh yes, yes, I would, very much. Do you think he’d mind? Do you think you could arrange it?’
I held up my hand.
‘It would be a pleasure. I’ll call him as soon as I get back. And, you know, Hunter is also a very good host. We’ll dine well.’
So it was settled that Marian would visit. I would find her a room in Caius if I could, or Hunter might be able to swing something at Sidney.
After a while, she began to grow tired again, though we spoke for a little while more, about her studies and the doctorate. It seemed Marian felt she’d get her PhD effortlessly if she just once met the great, as she called him, Hunter Wilson.
It amused me to see someone I thought of as just a good friend idolised in this way, and I asked Marian if she would be able to speak in his presence.
‘You try and shut me up,’ was her reply.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘you haven’t really told me anything about this research of yours. Just that it’s something to do with Dante.’
‘Blood,’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘It’s about blood, how blood is used in The Divine Comedy . What it means.’
‘What it means?’
She nodded, but I wasn’t really listening to her reply, because two other thoughts had hurried into my mind.
The first was this: blood. Of course it would be blood.
And the second made clear something that had been nagging at me ever since Marian had sat down with me that evening. That she looked paler than the day I had met her. Much, much paler.
Chapter 11
Almost as soon as I boarded my flight home, a few bald thoughts hit me, the main one being this: what on earth was I doing?
I’d flown to Paris with dreams of a glittering career in medicine; I’d come home feeling decidedly jaded about
‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘There were some very interesting discussions today on the differential diagnoses between acute lymphatic and acute myelogenous forms of the disease.’
I stopped.
‘Really?’ she said. Her eyes were holding mine, shining. Her hair dripped again and she shook her head to flick off the water.
‘Yes, really,’ I said, laughing. Then, ‘No, not really, not at all.’
Our wine arrived and our food not long after that and as we ate, Marian began to grow more lively again, more animated.
‘Just the thing for a damp day outside.’
I agreed, and saw her come to life before me, waving her hands around as she spoke, talking about the places she’d seen in Europe, the places she wanted to go next.
‘And Paris,’ she said. ‘There’s still so much to see here. God, I love this town.’
‘Where do you come from?’ I asked. ‘Where’s home?’
She darkened slightly at the memory of her family.
‘New York. The Hamptons.’
And though I knew little of American geography, I knew that meant that when she’d said her parents had money, they had serious money.
‘It’s my sister I miss the most,’ she said, suddenly, bluntly.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think of painful things.’
‘That’s OK. I’d fought too much with my parents to stay. It had to happen. They were never going to understand that the world has changed, that it’s not the one they grew up in. Even Amagansett. I just miss my sister.’
‘Do you write to her?’
Marian nodded.
‘But I don’t often hear back. It’s possible they’re hiding my letters.’
‘They’d do that? I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and suddenly looked so miserable I wanted to put my hand out to touch her. I didn’t.
I poured her some more wine.
‘So, what do you want to know about Hunter?’ I asked, smiling.
She laughed. ‘Was it that obvious?’
I nodded.
‘So, you know, I’ve been thinking. Easter is coming and I have some time off. I’ve never been to England, well, apart from the stopover at London airport . . .’
She trailed off, for once seeming unconfident, and I decided to help her out.
‘Would you like to meet Hunter?’
She almost exploded with joy.
‘Oh yes, yes, I would, very much. Do you think he’d mind? Do you think you could arrange it?’
I held up my hand.
‘It would be a pleasure. I’ll call him as soon as I get back. And, you know, Hunter is also a very good host. We’ll dine well.’
So it was settled that Marian would visit. I would find her a room in Caius if I could, or Hunter might be able to swing something at Sidney.
After a while, she began to grow tired again, though we spoke for a little while more, about her studies and the doctorate. It seemed Marian felt she’d get her PhD effortlessly if she just once met the great, as she called him, Hunter Wilson.
It amused me to see someone I thought of as just a good friend idolised in this way, and I asked Marian if she would be able to speak in his presence.
‘You try and shut me up,’ was her reply.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘you haven’t really told me anything about this research of yours. Just that it’s something to do with Dante.’
‘Blood,’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘It’s about blood, how blood is used in The Divine Comedy . What it means.’
‘What it means?’
She nodded, but I wasn’t really listening to her reply, because two other thoughts had hurried into my mind.
The first was this: blood. Of course it would be blood.
And the second made clear something that had been nagging at me ever since Marian had sat down with me that evening. That she looked paler than the day I had met her. Much, much paler.
Chapter 11
Almost as soon as I boarded my flight home, a few bald thoughts hit me, the main one being this: what on earth was I doing?
I’d flown to Paris with dreams of a glittering career in medicine; I’d come home feeling decidedly jaded about
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