gardens . . .’
He interrupted her. ‘Why don’t you sit down again?’ Blume glanced at the foot of his bed, but, disappointingly, she pulled up a plastic chair. She crossed her legs and anxiously clasped her right ankle with her left hand, and allowed her sandal, a complicated affair with lattice work and even jewels of some sort, to hang loose from her heel.
‘Dr Bernardini told me you were a policeman? From Rome?’
‘I think Bernardini might need reminding of patient-doctor privilege.’
Silvana’s surprise was such that her almond eyes turned momentarily circular. ‘Why? Is it a secret?’
‘No, not a secret,’ said Blume.
‘Actually, I asked him not to say anything to anyone else, because I thought maybe you would not want people to know. Perhaps I was wrong?’
‘No, no, that’s good, though,’ said Blume.
‘Maybe you won’t mention to my fiancé, Niki, that you’re a policeman?’
‘Why not?’ said Blume sharply. He hadn’t wanted to break the mood, but her comment had caught his attention. Now he felt a different more familiar type of arousal, more intellectual and aggressive than the soft sexual feelings he had been inappropriately luxuriating in until now. ‘What’s he got to hide?’
She looked at him, fright written all over her lovely features, and he began to relent. ‘I didn’t understand your comment about not telling Niki, though it’s unlikely I’ll be meeting him.’
‘I phrased it badly,’ she said. ‘Are you leaving so soon?’
‘Yes. Though the doctor wants me here for a few days.’
‘Do you have to listen to him? Wouldn’t you be better off back home? Bernardini is a very nice man, but whatever made you sick is gone now.’
‘I agree,’ said Blume. ‘You still haven’t told me about Niki.’
‘He runs a nightclub and a discotheque.’
‘Uh-huh. And?’
‘Well, you know.’ She clasped her ankle again and stared at the floor.
‘Drugs?’
‘And girls,’ she said, staring at her manicured toes. ‘Not quite pole dancers, but the ones who get up on those flashing platforms, topless and that sort of thing? East European girls. Fifty- and hundred-euro bills stuffed into their panties . . . maybe they sleep with some clients?’
‘This is your fiancé?’
She nodded sadly. ‘He works in an environment where – people in his situation . . . dealings with the authorities, the police can be complicated. He would be angry with me if he thought I spent so long talking to you knowing you were a policeman.’
‘Well, don’t tell him you knew, then,’ said Blume.
Her face brightened. ‘I hadn’t thought of that!’
‘I am not sure I like the sound of Niki,’ said Blume.
She stood up to go. ‘Your car is in the car park, and maybe you’ll pop in and say goodbye to me before you go back to Rome – when did you say – the day after tomorrow?’
‘Maybe, or the day after. Soon. Here, let me accompany you.’
He peeled a monitor off his chest, it was attached to a switched-off machine anyway, and started to clamber out of bed.
‘Don’t be silly! You can’t get out of bed like that! I’ll see myself out. I’ve arranged to meet Niki outside. He’s giving me a lift home.’
‘I need to see how I feel,’ said Blume. ‘If I can’t make it across the room, I’m hardly likely to be able to drive.’
He stood up, paused, and leant down to allow the blood in his head to catch up with the unexpected movement. He was in a hospital gown, which was unbecoming. The machine that he thought had been switched off started beeping, like in one of those American TV shows, except without the team of fast-talking, quick-walking, joke-cracking medics rushing in to save him.
‘I feel fine,’ he said. ‘I just realized, I haven’t eaten either. I think I had better put that thing back on my chest to stop the beeping. Look out the door and tell me if the mad Dr Bernardini or some evil nun is on the way.’
Silvana opened the door, then
He interrupted her. ‘Why don’t you sit down again?’ Blume glanced at the foot of his bed, but, disappointingly, she pulled up a plastic chair. She crossed her legs and anxiously clasped her right ankle with her left hand, and allowed her sandal, a complicated affair with lattice work and even jewels of some sort, to hang loose from her heel.
‘Dr Bernardini told me you were a policeman? From Rome?’
‘I think Bernardini might need reminding of patient-doctor privilege.’
Silvana’s surprise was such that her almond eyes turned momentarily circular. ‘Why? Is it a secret?’
‘No, not a secret,’ said Blume.
‘Actually, I asked him not to say anything to anyone else, because I thought maybe you would not want people to know. Perhaps I was wrong?’
‘No, no, that’s good, though,’ said Blume.
‘Maybe you won’t mention to my fiancé, Niki, that you’re a policeman?’
‘Why not?’ said Blume sharply. He hadn’t wanted to break the mood, but her comment had caught his attention. Now he felt a different more familiar type of arousal, more intellectual and aggressive than the soft sexual feelings he had been inappropriately luxuriating in until now. ‘What’s he got to hide?’
She looked at him, fright written all over her lovely features, and he began to relent. ‘I didn’t understand your comment about not telling Niki, though it’s unlikely I’ll be meeting him.’
‘I phrased it badly,’ she said. ‘Are you leaving so soon?’
‘Yes. Though the doctor wants me here for a few days.’
‘Do you have to listen to him? Wouldn’t you be better off back home? Bernardini is a very nice man, but whatever made you sick is gone now.’
‘I agree,’ said Blume. ‘You still haven’t told me about Niki.’
‘He runs a nightclub and a discotheque.’
‘Uh-huh. And?’
‘Well, you know.’ She clasped her ankle again and stared at the floor.
‘Drugs?’
‘And girls,’ she said, staring at her manicured toes. ‘Not quite pole dancers, but the ones who get up on those flashing platforms, topless and that sort of thing? East European girls. Fifty- and hundred-euro bills stuffed into their panties . . . maybe they sleep with some clients?’
‘This is your fiancé?’
She nodded sadly. ‘He works in an environment where – people in his situation . . . dealings with the authorities, the police can be complicated. He would be angry with me if he thought I spent so long talking to you knowing you were a policeman.’
‘Well, don’t tell him you knew, then,’ said Blume.
Her face brightened. ‘I hadn’t thought of that!’
‘I am not sure I like the sound of Niki,’ said Blume.
She stood up to go. ‘Your car is in the car park, and maybe you’ll pop in and say goodbye to me before you go back to Rome – when did you say – the day after tomorrow?’
‘Maybe, or the day after. Soon. Here, let me accompany you.’
He peeled a monitor off his chest, it was attached to a switched-off machine anyway, and started to clamber out of bed.
‘Don’t be silly! You can’t get out of bed like that! I’ll see myself out. I’ve arranged to meet Niki outside. He’s giving me a lift home.’
‘I need to see how I feel,’ said Blume. ‘If I can’t make it across the room, I’m hardly likely to be able to drive.’
He stood up, paused, and leant down to allow the blood in his head to catch up with the unexpected movement. He was in a hospital gown, which was unbecoming. The machine that he thought had been switched off started beeping, like in one of those American TV shows, except without the team of fast-talking, quick-walking, joke-cracking medics rushing in to save him.
‘I feel fine,’ he said. ‘I just realized, I haven’t eaten either. I think I had better put that thing back on my chest to stop the beeping. Look out the door and tell me if the mad Dr Bernardini or some evil nun is on the way.’
Silvana opened the door, then
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