Catch Your Death (3 page)

The answer: because he did. She had carried Stephen’s face locked in her memory for a decade and a half. Whatever else she’d forgotten, she had never forgotten him. This guy did look exactly like him, and that was weird and worth investigating.

She felt compelled to follow him, despite her son’s complaints.

He turned the corner onto Shaftesbury Avenue. The faces of famous Hollywood actors gazed down at her from theatre billboards; Jack made some comment about ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’. The ghost, or lookalike, or whatever he was, turned right. Luckily, the crowds slowed him down so he didn’t get too far ahead even though she was having to drag her son, plus robot, along. He turned another corner, then another, and they found themselves on a quieter street lined with Chinese restaurants and shops flogging cheap bags and faux-silk.

‘
Mum, Billy’s tired too,’ Jack said, waving his robot in the air, and as just as she was about to respond, the man stopped and turned around.

He looked straight at her. ‘Why are you following me?’ he asked.

Kate felt like an idiot. She was an idiot. This was an act of madness, the kind of thing Vernon accused her of. You need help. Some pills. You should see someone. Let me call Doctor Mackenzie. And she’d cry, get angry, protest – I’m sane. There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t want any drugs. I don’t need them. It was the way he looked at her. It made her believe she was losing her mind.

God only knew what Vernon would have said about this.

The ghost/lookalike took a few wary steps towards her. He gazed curiously at her, then down at Jack and back at her.

‘
Stephen?’ she said, holding her breath.

He shook his head. ‘You’ve made a mistake.’

He didn’t seem angry. At least that was something. He wasn’t going to shout at her. But even though he said she’d made a mistake and, of course, she knew he couldn’t really be Stephen, he didn’t only look like her long lost boyfriend – he sounded the same too. His voice was identical: lower middle class English, a soft voice, intelligent. Sexy.

She realised that Jack was looking up at her with wide eyes, scared of the strange man. She put her hand on Jack’s head and smiled. The man must have seen the boy’s fear too. He winked at him.

‘
I’m really sorry,’ Kate said, in a rush. ‘I’ve made a stupid mistake. You look exactly like someone I used to know, this guy I used to be close to, and I had to try and find out if you…it’s stupid because…’

‘
He’s dead.’

She stopped her babble and stared at him.

‘
I assume you’re talking about Stephen Wilson?’

She nodded dumbly.

The man smiled with one corner of his mouth. ‘He was my brother.’

CHAPTER 4

The hotel babysitter, a woman in her early twenties with blonde hair and an Eastern European accent, was well-used to neurotic parents who felt pinned between anxiety and eagerness – the eagerness to get out and see the city, not spend their vacation tied down by the kids. But this woman seemed more worried than average. Her voice trembled as she spoke and she dropped her handbag on her way to the door. Her purse, her keycard, tissues tumbled onto the carpet and she bent quickly to scoop them up. Highly-strung. Or up to something. She had that air about her. She was doing something that made her ill at ease; something secret.

If she had to bet on it, she’d wager that it involved a man.

The boy, on the other hand, was relaxed, leaning back in his chair clutching a toy robot to his chest, his free hand expertly handling the remote control, flicking from cartoon to pop video to wildlife programme. He giggled at the sight of meerkats playing on screen. Perhaps he didn’t realize that his mother was about to go out. Or perhaps he was secure enough in her love to know that she’d be coming back – it was the ones who were insecure who usually freaked out the most.

The babysitter had finally managed to get the nervous woman out into the corridor. Her name was Kate Maddox, and the boy was called Jack. The boy had an American accent but the mother was English. It was intriguing. Where was the father? Not that the babysitter was really all that interested. As long as she got paid, who cared? She liked the boy, though. He seemed like a nice kid.

Kate said, ‘Here’s my cellphone number, and the name and number of the restaurant, just in case.’

‘
Okay.’

‘
Bye Jack,’ she called. ‘See you later.’

‘
Bye.’ He didn’t look up. The meerkats were more interesting. The babysitter was relieved – no tantrums to deal with. Good.

As Kate opened the door to leave, the babysitter sneezed.

Kate turned back. ‘Have you got a cold?’

She shook her hood. ‘Maybe I am getting one.’ It was just a tickle.

‘
Hmm. Well, it depends if your body has encountered this virus before. If so, your antibodies will fight off the cold and it’ll go away.’

The babysitter nodded, not knowing what to say. She was pleased when the anxious mother finally left.

Kate emerged from the tube station and checked her watch. As so often happened, she had rushed out in a hurry and arrived early. Vernon was always going on about her obsessive need to be punctual and reliable. In the early days, he found it endearing, a positive character trait. Later, it became another sign of her uptightness.

She walked up Charing Cross Road and stopped outside a bookshop full of medical and scientific books. She recognised some of them. There was a famous book called The Plague on the Horizon, which contained several quotes from Kate. She had a signed copy back in Boston. The author had interviewed Kate because of her involvement into the investigation of the West Nile Virus, a potentially lethal illness that had first been seen in the US, in New York, in 1999. WNV, as virologists called it, caused muscle weakness and confusion in some people, and could lead to meningitis, paralysis and death in others. It was a particularly interesting virus (and when Kate said this to non-scientists they would raise their eyebrows, wondering how anyone could find such a horrible thing so interesting) because of the way it was transmitted. Mosquitoes became infected after feeding on virus-carrying birds, such as crows. That mosquito could then infect a human. Kate’s team were trying to develop a vaccine for WNV. So far, they had not been successful.

She caught sight of her reflection in the dark glass. She was pale, her eyes wide. She hadn’t been able to decide whether or not to wear make-up. This certainly wasn’t a date, but sometimes make-up made her feel more confident, less exposed to the world, so she’d put on a slick of lipgloss, a touch of mascara. Still, she wasn’t looking her best. A large part of her wanted to be locked up safely behind the door of her hotel room with the TV on and Jack beside her. She hoped he’d be okay. That babysitter had seemed capable enough, but – she let her imagination reach out – what if she was a child-killer, a front for an international child-slave racket, or just plain irresponsible?

She castigated herself. Don’t be ridiculous, Kate. Relax. It’s a reputable chain hotel, the woman had references.

She pushed her hair behind her ears and stood up straight. All you’re doing, she reminded herself, is meeting the brother of an old boyfriend.

His name was Paul.

‘
We were twins,’ he had said, a second after telling her he was Stephen’s brother. Stephen had never told her he had a twin, which seemed very odd in retrospect.. Maybe – probably – he did tell her, but she’d forgotten. So much of that summer was obscured behind thick fog. When she tried to remember those days, it was like trying to read a road sign without her contacts in. No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t make out the details through the haze and, in the end, the effort became painful and she gave up.

When she replayed in her mind the ensuing minute, it made her cringe. She had felt so awkward, and Paul seemed uneasy too. Being followed does that to you. So must being confronted by a woman who is staring at you like you’re a phantom.

He told her his name and said, ‘How did you know Stephen?’

Kate had been aware of Jack looking up at her. Part of her wanted to turn and run. But she was hypnotised by the face of this stranger who looked so much like the man she’d loved long ago. Alongside unease, his face showed kindness, just as Stephen’s had. She had the sudden urge to launch herself at him, wrap her arms around him and kiss him. For years she had dreamt of a moment like this – of bumping into Stephen and him telling her, ‘It was all a mistake. Reports of my demise were exaggerated.’ And they’d embrace, and the years would disappear.

Except this wasn’t Stephen.

‘
We were friends,’ she said.

‘
At university?’

She almost told a second lie, but said, ‘No. I met him at the Cold Research Unit in Salisbury.’

‘
Oh.’

She said, ‘I was there.’

He spoke softly. ‘There…when he…?’

‘
Yes.’

Jack had spoken up then. ‘Mummy, what are you talking about? Billy’s bored. And he needs to pee.’

Jack’s words broke the tension and the adults laughed.

Kate said, ‘Look, I’m really sorry. I don’t normally follow strangers through the streets.’

Paul smiled. ‘It’s okay. It’s understandable.’

‘
Maybe. But I’d better go and get Billy and his master back to the hotel.’

‘
Hotel? You don’t live in London?’

‘
We live in Boston,’ said Jack.

‘
Really?’

Kate went to turn away, but hesitated. She didn’t want to say goodbye to this face, but lingering there was pointless.

Paul said, ‘Wait,’ even though she hadn’t yet moved.

‘
Would you like to meet for dinner?’

‘
I…’

‘
It would be nice to talk to someone who knew my brother. Our parents won’t talk about him because it’s too upsetting. I never see any of our old friends these days. Sometimes it feels like he never existed.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Except I see him every time I look in the mirror.’

Kate didn’t know what to say.

‘
So, dinner? You can bring Jack and – Billy, is it? – if you like.’

Before she could change her mind, she blurted, ‘Where? What time?’

He pointed up the street at a restaurant. ‘Do you like Chinese? We could meet there at seven.’

‘
Alright.’ She turned away, then realised she hadn’t told him her own name.

‘
I’m Kate,’ she said.

Something happened when she said that; it was as if the name meant something to him but he wasn’t sure what. The moment passed and he smiled. ‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

She killed twenty minutes walking slowly through Soho towards the Chinese restaurant. It was a warm, overcast evening, and the streets were rammed with people in T-shirts standing outside pubs. She hadn’t smoked for years, but she had a craving for cigarettes. And cider. She thought she knew why, too: she was going to meet a man she didn’t know for dinner, something she hadn’t done for a long, long time. It threw her back in time, made her feel like a teenager. She wouldn’t smoke or drink cider, or go to bed with this man, but she wouldn’t be enormously surprised with herself if she did. She’d done enough out-of-character things recently.

She paused outside the restaurant, inhaled the smell of cooking rice and sweet and sour sauce and MSG. She watched a trio of chickens rotating on a spit in a window opposite and had to look away. She hadn’t eaten meat, either, for years. Another thing that irritated Vernon – living with a goddamn vegetarian.

‘
You enjoyed the taste of meat when we met,’ he said, the underlying innuendo making her shudder. She had to stop thinking about him. But how could she? When he found out what she’d done, as he would very soon… She didn’t want to think about it.

She didn’t have to. Paul arrived at that moment, appearing out of nowhere and grinning nervously at her.

‘
I left Jack with a babysitter at the hotel,’ she said. ‘I hope he’s OK. I just thought it would be easier to talk without interruption.’

‘
Sure,’ he said, easily.

She’d been worried that he might think she was planning to come on to him, farming her son out to a stranger, being a bad mother – but he didn’t seem at all phased. ‘I’m starving,’ he added.

‘
Me too,’ she said. A white lie.

He led the way into the hot, noisy restaurant, waves of chatter rising and falling amid the clank and clink of cutlery, and a waiter showed them to a table, chucking a pair of menus down on the table and zooming away.

Seeing how taken aback Kate was, Paul said, ‘They’re famously rude in here. It’s part of the appeal.’

They exchanged pleasantries about the warm weather and Chinese food for a few minutes, ordered drinks and studied their menus. The waiter reappeared and brusquely said, ‘Yes?’

Paul gave the waiter a few numbers from the menu, and Kate did the same.

‘
You’re vegetarian?’ he asked. When she nodded, he asked, ‘Do you eat fish?’

‘
No, I’m vegetarian.’ She immediately regretted her snappiness. ‘Sorry, it’s just that everyone always says that – it’s like an automatic response. Proper veggies don’t eat fish.’