vampire of legend: who seem to attach themselves to others and take nourishment from their energies. I saw Carmine as one of these individuals, in addition to her more 'traditional' qualities. Even vampires, if they exist, must surely have their hopes and fears and dreams, like any ordinary person.
' However you define that '
The cultured female voice at the other end of the phone line said, 'I saw your advertisement in Alternatives . It's possible that I might be able to help.'
The sick lurch of hope had become all too familiar over the last few months, and Penny tried to ignore it and keep her mind neutral. 'I see. What uh exactly would you be suggesting?'
There was a slight pause. Then: 'I'd guess from your tone that you've had other calls, yes? But nothing worth while came of them?'
'You could say that.' Hope turned sour as she recalled them: two fringe herbalists, a crystal healer, a woman trying to sell her a 'magic luck talisman' complete with a Your Personal Love Rhythms chart. Oh, and the crank who had banged on about Jesus and the wages of sin, until she had sworn at him and slammed the receiver down. The magazine had advised her, when she placed the advert, not to include her home number. Desperate needs, though, called for desperate measures.
'Look,' Penny said, 'if you're marketing some new miracle cure, then'
'Oh, no. It's nothing like that, I assure you; what I could offer is entirely practical, and entirely effective. The only caveat is that the patient must be prepared to accept certain side effects.'
Hope began to creep back. Words such as 'patient' and 'side effects' were reassuring; they had a ring of orthodoxy.
'May I ask you a question?' said the woman.
Penny snapped back from the tangent her thoughts had abruptly taken. 'Yes; yes, please do.'
'You obviously couldn't go into detail in the advertisement. It's your husband who's ill?'
'Yes.'
'And the doctors say that well, that there's nothing more they can do?'
'Yes.' The GP; tests; the specialist; more tests; that loathsome hospital Penny breathed deeply and carefully to knock the tremor out of her voice. 'It's incurable, and it's progressive. Over the last two years we've tried everything, but it didn't And now now, he might have a couple of months, but the doctors say that' Something caught in her throat; she turned her head aside from the receiver and tried to clear it.
'That there's no hope,' the woman gently finished the sentence for her.' I understand. I'm so sorry.'
'Thank you,' Penny said tightly.
'So, then. I think I can help you, if you want me to. But I'd prefer to talk about it face to face.'
Penny's cynicism had begun to come back in a reaction to the last few moments, and she demanded, 'Why? That's the sort of thing the evangelists do: worm an invitation, then start on their conversion technique. Only last week I answered the doorbell and there were some bloody'
'Please. I promise you, I am not an evangelist in any shape or form. Far from it. But what I need to explain really does need a personal meeting.'
Penny looked down the length of the hall. The thin February daylight made everything look bleak and depressing; the stairs were deeply shadowed, and David was lying up there in their bedroom, drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers, hardly knowing her, hardly knowing anything.
'All right,' she said on an outward rush of breath. 'When, and where?'
'It's best if I come to your house, I think. Would this evening be convenient?'
'Yes.' Face the thing quickly. If it's yet another disappointment, better to have it over with . Feeling that the situation wasn't quite real, Penny gave her address and agreed on 7:00 p.m.
'I don't know your name,' she added.
'Oh, of course. It's Smith. Carmine Smith.'
Penny didn't believe that, and she didn't believe that the woman could be of any use at all. But what did it matter? There was nothing left to lose.
Carmine Smith was probably in her early forties, elegant in classically understated dark clothes and expensive black silk coat. Her hair, too, was dark, cut in a young, gamine style that suited her perfectly. Her eyes were subtly made up, but she wore no lipstick.
'Thank you,' she said, taking the coffee (black, no sugar) that Penny handed to her. She looked around the room, assessing it, her expression inscrutable. Then she asked, 'Is your husband at home?'
Penny nodded. 'They said there was no point his staying in hospital. They need the beds, and there's nothing'
'Of course. Could I see him?'
Penny became defensive. 'He's probably asleep. He sleeps a lot, and even when he's awake he's vague. He couldn't tell you much.'
'All the same, if I could just look in?' Carmine's eyes were very intense.
Penny hesitated, then shrugged.
They climbed the stairs. Carmine walked noiselessly, which Penny found faintly unsettling. She fancied that if she were to turn her head she would find nobody at all behind her, and that this whole encounter was a delusion.
David, as she had predicted, was asleep. Carmine moved to the bed and stood gazing down at him by the soft
