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did she realise that foronce she was not quite alone. In the early hours, the calamari shehad stabbed to underline her sarcastic remarks to Yogi woke her upwith its own sarcastic reply – the fun-filled med-holidaytummy-bug.

Now, if she had learnedanything on her previous fun-filled med holidays, it was thatprompt treatment was essential. And so, she left her room andpadded down to the reception desk.

Here, an unblemishedyoung man, fashioned according to the dictates of Golden Apollo,sat watching basketball on satellite television. He looked at herfrom across the faux mahogany counter and smiled with theunthinking affability of youth. The stare which Carla returned hadnothing affable about it. Med men – even the deluxe versions – hadbecome objects of keen resentment. She described her symptoms likethey were the boy’s fault. In return, he paid close attention toevery word, and then, knotting his brows, he performed what seemedto be a long-division sum in his head.

He was translating.

All of a sudden, he satbolt upright in his chair.

‘Are you bad?’

But this was not somuch a question as an exclamation of blind panic. A stomach upsetis as economically damaging for the med hotelier as foot-and-mouthdisease is for the Brit farmer. The damage is caused not so much bythe human suffering itself – people die all the time – rather itwas the sound of suffering. The hoteliers didn’t need the wisdom ofSocrates to understand that if their guests heard someone wringingtheir guts out in the next room then they wouldn’t be back nextyear. And this Carla here, she was big and strong and would makeone hell of a racket before she died.

With that alacrity ofmind which distinguished the population of the area – threethousand years ago, the lad figured out a way to get the woman offhis back and ring-fence the plague all at a single stroke.

He explained to Carlanow, in cursive English, that a Brit doctor was also a guest at thehotel and he might be able to help.

Carla was notimpressed. She might be in keen physical pain and at the mercy of ahandsome cretin, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to sueCyprus for every last damned penny if she died out here.

Her voice wasrising.

The lad leapt to hisfeet and made soothing sounds, or at least soothing in DemoticGreek, and slipped from round the counter before disappearing downa corridor.

Less than a minutelater he was back.

‘Doctor says great.Just great! Follow me, please.’

Carla followed the boyto another hotel room, where they found a man in his earlythirties, with a pleasant but inexpressive face, waiting for themwhile slouched in a whicker chair. He wore a white tee shirt andshorts, and held a glass of orange juice in one hand.

‘Good evening,’ he gavethem a smile and the boy smiled back before he waved and left.

‘Carla, isn’t it? I’mGerald. Take a seat.’ He motioned at the bed while he took a chair.‘Now I expect George did not explain the situation in full, but theHotel nurse is not available this week, she’s off sick.’ The doctorspoke in a smooth, supple voice that slithered through the air andCarla’s brain, without leaving a trace behind. ‘However, I am adoctor and although I’m on holiday I have a personal stock ofmedicine for the usual ailments. If you tell me what the problem isI’ll treat you, if I am able. Or at least I’ll try to make you morecomfortable.’

‘What?’ Carla asked, intoo much discomfort to concentrate.

Gerald took a measuredsip of orange juice. ‘Just tell me how it hurts.’

Carla did so and Geraldlistened with an eerie lack of expression. He continued to stare ather for a moment after she had finished speaking. Then he rousedhimself and went to the bathroom where he put a couple of tabletsin a tumbler and added some bottled water. He came back and handedher the cloudy mixture.

‘Drink this, please.And I’d like you to sit here awhile. You should remain upright forat least fifteen minutes. A little chat will take your mind offthings. The upset may have been exacerbated by nervoustension.’

Carla felt Gerald wasstraying a bit far from her upset stomach by talking about hernerves. But on second thoughts, if by nerves he meant the mentaldistress caused to her by being abandoned on holiday, then that wasspot on, wasn’t it?

‘Thank you, I willthen.’

Gerald took another sipof his juice and gave her a pleasant smile.

‘So, you’re a doctor?’Carla asked. That she already knew the answer made asking thequestion easier.

‘I’m a specialist. Irun a small private clinic.’

‘You’re on holiday?’Another easy question.

‘Definitely. And truthbe told, I shouldn’t mind an extra fortnight off. I need it.’

‘Well, we could all saythat, couldn’t we?’

‘Oh, for sure. Except Imight lose some of my patients if I did.’

‘Me though,’ shecountered bitterly, ‘I couldn’t stay an extra fortnight withoutgoing bankrupt. See, I run a florist shop and plants need constantattention, or they die. Like your patients, I suppose . . . butthen, I bet you still get paid if your patients die, don’t you? Me,I don’t get a penny. I’m on a knife’s edge. And do you know why I’mon a knife’s edge?’

Gerald shook hishead.

‘Because the soddingInland Revenue taxes me up to the eyeballs, that’s why.’

He gave her a long,thoughtful look. ‘You know what?’

‘What?’

‘You should considerthe benefit of having a baby.’

The room went veryquiet. Even Carla’s intestines held their breath. Far off in thenight a med man honked his horn. ‘Eh?’

‘A baby,’ Gerald saidwith an urbane smile. ‘Having a baby with me could solve all theseproblems – ’

Carla’s head span.Well, alright, she didn’t think much of his overture – gauche toput it mildly – but on the other hand, he was a doctor, and thatmade jigging with him a golden opportunity to get more even withSharon than she could have ever dared hope.

‘The woman inquestion,’ Gerald was saying, Carla had missed a bit, ‘was paid tenthousand pounds for bearing the couple’s child. You can believe mewhen I say she didn’t pay a penny of tax on the amount. And what Isay is, why should she? To me, the services of a surrogate mothercan never be gauged merely in terms of a financial