CLONER : a Sci-Fi Novel about Human Cloning (A Captivating Story about Reproduction Outside the Womb and Identical Humans) (30 page)

‘I didn’t mean it that way. What I suggest is that
I
take him to Morgenstein this time. If he’s allergic to both metals, it’s more than just a simple allergy.’ He paused, looking at her, evidently uncertain. ‘There could be another problem, Lisa.’

‘Such as?’

‘The child could be autistic.’

Lisa laughed at that. ‘My goodness, Alec. Autism shows itself by lack of verbal communication, an inability to relate to other people. Janus is pretty good at expressing himself! And he’s pretty popular with the other kids.’ As though she hadn’t considered such matters, as though, in a sense, she wouldn’t welcome a known disorder. ‘Anyway, the great man’s already spoken, and the tests were negative. There’s nothing wrong with Janus. Physically
or
mentally, it’s all my fertile imagination.’ By now her voice was even, low. She turned and laughed again, an unsteady laugh. ‘We have it on the highest medical authority.’

‘Do be fair, pet. You said yourself, the bloating had gone down by the time you got to the paediatrician. The boy’s coming up to it again. I’ll make an appointment. He won’t evade the issue with me.’

There was nothing further to say as far as Lisa was concerned. She felt fairly confident that the doctor would insist on the usual three weeks before an appointment. Alec could hardly plead an emergency. And meanwhile she’d work something out to safeguard the child. All her instincts told her he was in danger. Real physical danger.

Alec cleared his throat. He seemed apprehensive. ‘You might just bear in mind that Morgenstein did suggest it was an allergy. He didn’t dismiss the whole thing out of hand.’ He smiled, then started sneezing again. ‘We’d better take the earring off Janus,’ he finally brought out. ‘After all, there’s no mistaking which one
he
is.’

‘No!’ It was out before she could stop herself. What could she possibly use as an excuse? But if the child were able to strip himself…

‘You’re reacting completely over the top,’ Alec said slowly, almost gently. ‘You must see that. What possible difference can it make?’

An ear-piercing scream managed to infiltrate through the thick walls, followed by a chorus of lesser sounds. Lisa sprinted for the door, only to be restrained by Alec.

‘Mother is with them, Lisa. She’ll manage.’

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he steered Lisa through to the conservatory and out, over to the children playing in the sandpit.

‘Hello, Mummy. Jansy’s been naughty,’ Seb said as soon as he saw them. ‘Granny said he had to play by himself.’

Alec looked at Lisa triumphantly and walked over to Janus. The child was standing just outside the sandpit, rhythmically smashing his toy aeroplane against the terrace stone.

‘No, Jansy,’ Alec said, removing the toy. Carefully, deliberately he undid the clasp of the platinum earring and slipped it out of the child’s ear.

Lisa stared at the ring, now disappearing into Alec’s wallet. What could she do? She’d have to check on him constantly. The child, she realised dimly, her mind racing her instincts, was unlikely to undress himself during the day. At night she’d go into the nursery and clamp something on to him. She’d have to think the problem through at leisure, when Alec was out of the way.

‘And Mother’s very keen to give you a day to yourself, you know. I wish you’d take up her offer.’

Sarah Wildmore was staying for several days. She looked up from the sandcastle she was perfecting. ‘Why not have tomorrow off, Lisa? Really, I’ll be happy to take the boys on. And Betsy won’t mind helping me, I know.’

‘You’re not used to it, Sarah. It will wear you out.’

Sarah laughed good-naturedly. ‘You think I’m too old. Well, even at the advanced age of fifty plus I ought to be able to cope for a day!’

Lisa gave in to her mother-in-law, relieved that Betsy was prepared to help out on a weekday morning. She’d drive to Bath, look in on the Touchstone Gallery. They were really doing well with her watercolours.

In any case, there was one thing she could rely on: Sarah wouldn’t allow Janus to take his clothes off. Besides, he wasn’t critically swollen yet. Lisa felt pretty confident that Janus wasn’t yet ready to clone again.

Queen Square car park was only a few minutes walk from the Touchstone Gallery. Lisa’s heels clicked briskly as she accelerated through crowds of ambling tourists. Bath was overflowing with visitors. Trevor was absolutely right to place her pictures here.

‘Do you need any help?’ a young woman asked her as soon as she’d opened vast Georgian doors and walked through.

‘Just looking,’ Lisa said, smiling.

She tried to see
Heron among the Willows
as though she’d never come across it before. Windswept willows lining a river, two herons standing on its bank, a third scooping fish, Glastonbury Tor outlined behind them - pastel colours, a gentle English light. It was all make-believe. Time to make a change, time to show the truth behind the pretty façade.

She saw the willows change shape. Thrusting green shoots turned into gnarled broken branches weeping towards a sodden murky whirl of overflowing banks. Leaden skies stretched into drab fields turned into pools reflecting grey. Earth colours instead of pastel, almost monochrome. Blasts of ashen air across the moor. Cattle hump-backed against the wind, resigned to mud.

‘That’s a Wildmore,’ the girl said, coming up behind her. ‘She’s one of our most successful artists. Lives locally, you know. Down near Wells. She specialises in scenes of the Somerset Levels.’

‘I see,’ Lisa said dutifully.

‘They’re still very modestly priced,’ the girl went on. ‘That won’t last long now. They’re simply walking off the walls, so the values are bound to rise. This one’s available for £1200. A bargain.’

Lisa’s face reddened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she turned to the assistant. ‘I should have introduced myself...’

‘Lisa!’

The door leading to the back of the gallery had opened. At first Lisa could not work out who’d greeted her. A silhouette of a man, quite young, bejewelled, elegantly dressed, preceded a shorter figure.

‘Darling! Why didn’t you let me know?’ Trevor stepped forward, rushing his arms at her, planting a kiss on one cheek, then the other.

‘Trev! I’d no idea you were going to be in Bath.’ She grinned, delighted. ‘I’m on parole. My mother-in-law is coping; or at least I hope she is. Last minute decision; couldn’t resist popping in.’

‘Marvellous, darling. Now let me introduce you to one of your most ardent fans. This is Leo - Leo Blanchet. You’ve spoken on the telephone.’

‘What fun!’ Leo greeted her, wine-coloured velvet blazer toning an iridescent tie. ‘So this is my best selling artist.’ Melting black eyes examined Lisa openly under raised brows. ‘Pretty as a picture.’

Trevor’s laugh neighed around re-echoing walls. ‘Leo’s just taken over the Touchstone. His little place in Albemarle Street is overflowing, so he’s branching out.’

‘Fancied the West Country,’ Leo tossed in. ‘Bath is perfection. Good for the Festival, as well. Are you a devotee?’

‘Only in theory at the moment,’ Lisa explained. ‘I’m rather taken up at home.’

Leo’s eyes slid away. ‘Of course.’

‘You’ll join us for lunch?’ Trevor said eagerly. ‘I’m sure you’ll know the best place for us to go.’

Lisa could see the velvet ripple as irritation stiffened Leo’s shoulders. ‘That’s sweet of you, Trev. Actually, I was thinking of…’

‘We really must celebrate. After all, Lis, much of the success is down to you!’ Trevor, standing between them, placed his arms around both sets of shoulders. ‘I know you two have loads in common.’

Leo’s nose lengthened perceptively. ‘Provided you can steer us to a good place for lunch,’ he said, eyes cold. ‘Can’t abide hormone-laden roast with soggy veg. Can Bath provide something wholesome
and
exotic?’

‘Bath can do better than most,’ Lisa said. The Hole in the Wall is only five minutes walk from here. A choice of vegetarian main courses, fish or game, all organic. I’m sure you’ll approve.’ She looked at Leo carefully. ‘But if you prefer something more theatrical, you could try Popjoys.’

‘Done that,’ he said. ‘Not bad; teensy bit trad.’

‘Then try the Hole,’ Lisa said, stalking out of the gallery. ‘I’ll point you in the right direction.’

‘Hold on,’ Leo ran after her. ‘Sounds really good!’ He twirled himself in front of her, bowing low. ‘Do come, we’ll make a real party of it.’ The black coals blazed over her, dancing approval.

Lisa led the way across Queen Square, tripping up Gay street towards the Circle. She was struck again by the brilliance of honey-coloured stone curved to reflect the light. One day she must catch that. ‘Across to George Street,’ she told them, pointing right, jay walking the busy road and sprinting on. ‘Up these steps, the entrance on your left.’

Sinking into the lounge easy chairs, Lisa agreed happily to champagne. ‘We really do have something to celebrate,’ Trevor said. ‘Leo signed the papers this morning.’

‘So, tell me about yourself.’ Leo’s fingers flashed several rings. A large opal caught Lisa’s eye. ‘Like it? Belonged to my aged pa. Died recently.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. Altzheimer’s took him some years ago. Blessed release.’ The dark eyes grew deep. ‘The stone lived up to its name. Opals always shine brighter on the dying. Positively gleamed last time I saw the old roué.’

‘So what’s the news from pastures green?’ Trevor was already reading the menu. ‘I see they’re quite inventive on vegetarian, Leo.’

‘Too green, perhaps,’ Lisa said. ‘Thought I’d pop into the Reference Library before I head back.’

‘Planning on using new pigments?’

Lisa smiled. ‘I do feel stale. Thought I’d try earth colours. More of a sombre mood.’ She turned her shoulders briskly towards Leo. ‘Hope it won’t ruin sales, but I mustn’t get into a rut.’ She twisted back to Trevor. ‘I wasn’t actually thinking about pigments when I said green.’ She twiddled the stem of her glass, fizzing the bubbles. ‘They’re overdoing the fertiliser bit, in my opinion. The grass looks - unnatural, somehow. Too much cerulean blue.’ She looked for a response, but Trevor had lifted the menu and blotted her out.

Leo’s black eyes leaped into brilliance. ‘You’ve decided to check up on them?’

‘Exactly. Our neighbours’ farm is the testing site for a new organic product – ’

‘Trev was telling me, said you weren’t mad keen.’

‘There’s just too much of everything. “Baint natural” is the local expression.’

‘The venison looks good, or there’s saddle of hare,’ Trevor interrupted loudly.

‘Too much?’ Leo folded his menu and beckoned to the waiter. ‘Like your triplets, you mean?’ He said it softly, almost purring it.

Lisa froze. ‘I was thinking of the farm animals.’ Her feet, crossed casually at the ankles, flexed into pointed toes. Had Trevor mentioned anything specific to Leo? He was avoiding eye contact.

‘The grass is as green as a peacock’s preen?’ Leo suggested, not smiling.

‘Precisely,’ Lisa agreed. ‘Emerald green. It’s even crept into my paintings. The untreated moors are actually a somewhat drab colour, more khaki mixed with gull grey.’

The waiter was hovering beside them. ‘So, are we ready to order?’ Trevor swished his menu shut. ‘What’s for you, Lisa?’

‘That’s what’s really bugging me,’ Lisa told them. She took several gulps of her champagne. ‘I think the fertiliser doesn’t just increase the desirable. The kittens, for instance – ’

‘How about starting with the Brandade of Smoked Mackerel?’ Trevor interrupted, then turned to the waiter. ‘That good?’

‘Speciality of the house, sir. We still use Mr Perry-Smith’s original recipes.’

‘Very nice, thank you.’ Lisa turned back to Leo. ‘The litters are much bigger. And I know cats start out blind, and that’s perfectly normal. But we rescued one from a rather large litter a neighbour was going to drown, and it had a lot of trouble with its eyesight right from the start. It keeps getting worse. The poor thing’s virtually blind now.’

‘Leo?’

‘The Brandade will be fine. And you think the fertiliser contributed to that, somehow?’

‘Followed by Venison Moussaka?’

‘Sounds delicious, Trev. You order,’ Leo said, turning back to Lisa. ‘How, in particular?’

‘It seems to aggravate defects. That’s my theory, anyway. The mother cat was swimming in local milk.’

‘Not
Silent Spring
, more of an
Overabundant Autumn
?’

‘So you’ve read Rachel Carson. You’ll know exactly what I’m talking about then. It’s possible that overdoing the fertiliser could have worse consequences than the poisoning nightmare she described.’

‘The sedge is withered from the lake, and no birds sing.’

‘
You
are quoting Keats?’ Trevor sounded almost animated as he turned to Leo. ‘I thought you said you only read modern poetry?’

‘It’s as though he wrote it for us.’ Leo turned back to Lisa. ‘You think that excess could overburden the ecology, making us obese on a planetary scale?’

‘A graphic way of putting it, but yes, I do. Most people assume more is better. It could, in fact, be catastrophic.’

‘Come on, you two, if we could concentrate on the wine?’

‘We trust you implicitly, Trev.’

‘I just wanted to see what the genetic section might have on – ’

‘For goodness sake, you two! You’re being really boring. This is supposed to be a celebration.’

‘Sorry, Trev.’

‘Look behind you, Leo. That’s a fabulous collection of horse-brasses.’

‘What?’ Leo turned round to look behind him, then stood. ‘They are exciting, aren’t they?’

A large collection of amulets, showing their pedigree by traces of constant cleaning, were displayed over the whole surface of the wall.

‘Any good horseflesh in your area, Lisa? Your hunting scenes are much prized, so presumably there’s some good sport.’

‘Actually,’ Lisa said, the noise of clattering hooves coming into her mind, ‘Frank Graftley breeds hunters. Very successful at the local point-to-points.’

‘I really must come down to visit you,’ Leo said, walking back. ‘I’m in the market for a hunter.’

‘Frank has some outstanding breeding stock. But I have to warn you, many of his foals go lame.’

‘No lucky horseshoes?’ Leo raised neat eyebrows. ‘I thought that was the big protection.’

‘Perhaps they nailed them with the ends pointing down, and the luck’s run out,’ Trevor suggested, laughing heartily. ‘Let’s address the positive. This mackerel is outstanding.’