Going Viral (13 page)
You know how it is when you’ve been in a different world, a
really
different world, which nevertheless made perfect sense at the time? It can be in a dream, or more rarely (but more acutely) when you’ve passed out.
Anyway, it made such sense to me that it was coming back into
this
world that seemed so screwy and I wanted to shout:
This
is
all
fucking
nonsense
,
let
me
stay
in
the
other
place
…
But of course you’re stuck with
this
world, which you know somehow isn’t as good as the one you’ve just left…
And then you realise that you
have
shouted:
This
is
all
fucking
nonsense
etc.
… because an attractive staff nurse is looking at you strangely and saying, ‘What’s all fucking nonsense?’
I tried to apologise, but she said, ‘Don’t worry – it’s good to have you back with us.’
‘How long have I…?’
‘Oh, about twelve hours. It’s eight in the morning, just after – does that make any sense to you?’
I nodded and wished I hadn’t. ‘Got a shitty headache.’
‘Not really surprising. We’ll be keeping you in for a day or two in case of concussion.’
She got me something for the headache, and once the pain had eased a bit, I slept.
When I woke, I hadn’t been in the other world again, which was perhaps a good sign. My head still ached, although bearably. I touched it and felt a thick bandage.
‘Herry…?’ a voice said…
I turned my head slightly and opened my eyes. It was Sarah.
‘What’s so funny?’ she said.
I couldn’t help it, I was laughing, even though it hurt my head rotten …
‘Was told you were at death’s door,’ I managed, ‘told you were in hospital asking for me, I came in, got thumped, and now it’s
you
coming to see
me
…’
‘And that’s funny?’
‘Well, isn’t it?’
‘Who told you I was at death’s door?’
‘The ward sister rang me up…’
‘
What
ward sister?’
I closed my eyes and, keeping my head still, told her about it.
‘But who’d want to do
that
?’ she said.
‘I’d quite like to know that,’ I said. I thought for a moment – it was reassuring that I
could
think… ‘Someone who knows about me - and you and Grace, obviously – and is mad at me…’ I opened my eyes and looked at her… ‘I think we both know someone like that.’
She shook her head and it hurt just to see it.
‘No. Dad’s a shit, but he wouldn’t do that. He’d do something more… cerebral…’
I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t say anything… then I thought of –
‘
Roland
! Why was he so against having the meeting last night…?’
Of course, she didn’t know what I was talking about I had to tell her, some of it, anyway – not the fact we were waiting for a smallpox outbreak to hit us any moment – so I told her about his jealousy and the fact he’d been undermining me and trying to take over the SCRUB team…
‘But you’ve always told me it’s a waste of time…’
I said, ‘It’s a status thing, a symbol of the fact he didn’t get my job.’
‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Is there something you aren’t telling me, Herry?’
I was wondering what the hell I could say to that when the door opened and Rebecca came in. She had a bunch of flowers and a brown paper bag, which I guessed held grapes. Obviously a traditionalist.
Sarah looked round and I saw her brow contract and her mouth tighten. I don’t know whether it was Rebecca she was annoyed at, or the fact that she’d brought flowers and grapes… anyway, she jumped to her feet –
‘Don’t go…’ I began, just as Rebecca said,
‘You don’t have to go…’
‘I
know
I don’t, but far be it for
me
to be a gooseberry…’ And she flounced out. There aren’t many women who can do a good flounce these days, but Sarah was one of them. The door slammed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rebecca said.
‘Don’t be,’ I said, but then I found that just for a fleeting moment,
I
was – sorry she’d gone, that is…
‘What happened?’ Rebecca asked.
I told her as much as I could.
‘Can you describe them?’
‘Big and nasty, but otherwise no.’
‘Did they say anything?’
‘Not a sound.’
She let out a sigh. ‘That’s what the witness said, the guy who scared them off and called for help. You owe him.’
‘I know. Who was he?’
She looked in her notebook. ‘Darren Murrell. He’s a porter.’
I grunted. ‘Didn’t know we still had any. I’ll go and see him as soon as I’m up and thank him.’
‘He did say one thing…’
I waited.
‘When he shouted, one of them looked up at him – they were both wearing balaclavas – then very deliberately kicked you in the head. They meant to harm you, he said.
You
, specifically.’
I told her how I remembered that kick. ‘It’s why they’re keeping me in.’
‘So who was it? Who set them onto you, I mean?’
I told her I could only think of Roland or Pops.
‘Why Wade-Stokes?’
‘He wants my job. Both of them.’
‘Putting you out of action might get him the SCRUB team, but not your main job. Would it?’
‘It would be a first step. And there’s another thing…’ I told her how Roland had been badmouthing me to the rest of the team, the meeting I’d arranged for that evening and how he’d pleaded with me to put it off…
Her eyes took on that inward look they had when she was thinking. After a moment, she said, ‘Were you convinced by it… why he couldn’t come?’
‘I was at the time, or I wouldn’t have accepted it.’
‘Would he know how to find heavies like that at such short notice?’
I shrugged. ‘No idea.’
Another pause, then, ‘D’you really think he wants your job that much?’
‘You’ll have to ask him that.’
‘Oh I will, don’t you worry – I’m having them both in the moment we’ve finished here.’
I nodded slowly. She said, ‘But I get the impression you don’t really think it was either of them?’
My turn to sigh. ‘It’s just not their style…’
‘What
is
their style?’
‘Pops works through unofficial channels, always has. And as you know, he’s done that already – after the row we had.’
‘But it didn’t work, did it? From what you told me, he went out on a limb to try and get you back with your wife and you chucked it back in his face. Maybe he saw this as the only answer.’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I think he’d rather go on trying to undermine me.’
‘OK, what’s Wade-Stokes’ style? Would he go for violence?’
‘He’d have to be pretty desperate.’
She said, ‘You see, I’m wondering if it was John Amend-all.’
Pause… ‘But that would mean that they know about me...’
‘They probably do anyway, if they’ve done their research – SCRUB’s not that hard to find on the web. What worries me more is that they might know about
me
.’
‘Well, it’s nice to know your priorities…’
She leaned forward. ‘Putting
me
out of action might help them, but why
you
, what would it gain them?’
I shrugged. ‘Disrupting our efforts?’
‘What efforts?’
‘At finding them…’
‘But you’re only peripheral in that – your job’s managing an outbreak, should there be one.’
I said, ‘I don’t know… it seems even less likely than Pops or Roland.’
‘Is there anyone else you’ve annoyed?’
I shook my head before I could remember not to – ‘Can’t think of any.’
‘Besides, why would they do something that indicates we’re on the right track? It just doesn’t make sense…’
The Staff Nurse came in with some pills and said it was time I had some rest. I was quite glad, because my head was throbbing again. Rebecca asked if she could take a short statement from me first. Nursey looked to refuse, so I said it was all right. Not because I wanted to, but Rebecca might need it as ammunition against Roland and Pops.
It was done in about ten minutes, then I took the pills and sank into a kind of semi-slumber. At least, that’s what I thought it was, but when I woke, they told me I’d been out for nearly six hours.
Rebecca was asking to see me again. It felt as though hardly any time had passed since she’d been there before, but she’d done quite a lot.
Both Roland and my beloved Pater-in-law had been questioned – vigorously and at length. I was untroubled by any thought of their discomfort. They’d both absolutely denied anything to do with the attack, no surprise there, but Rebecca had been inclined to believe them.
‘What about Roland’s reasons for not being able to go to the meeting?’ I asked.
‘All true, so far as we could make out. His wife
was
on call, and his parents and in-laws
do
live some distance away.’
‘You’d think he’d be able to find someone…’
You would, she agreed… ‘He said he didn’t get on with his neighbours and happened to know his friends were busy that night.’
‘And you believed him?’
She thought for a moment. ‘More to the point, I believed him when he said he simply wouldn’t know how to go about hiring thugs to beat you up.’
‘He is very good at sincere,’ I observed. ‘What about my esteemed father-in-law? I bet
he’d
know how to…’
She said, ‘He came across just as you said he would. He told us he didn’t have to resort to hired thugs to make your life uncomfortable. His exact words. I believed him.’
‘But you can’t rule them out?’
No, not entirely, she agreed.
*
I slept through the night. My head still hurt in the morning and the reg said she wanted to keep me in another night. I seriously thought about overruling her, but when I tried getting out of bed, the pain doubled and I nearly fell over.
They let Tim come to see me a couple of hours later, when the painkillers had started to work. He’d gone to the Bath laboratory on his own and had just begun telling me about it when Rebecca arrived. He started again.
‘The lab’s got all the equipment they need to grow the virus,’ he said, ‘but their security’s very good.’
He told us how Mary Broomfield was in as good a position as anyone to grow it, but he found it difficult to see anyone getting away with it for long.
‘She doesn’t come in during the evenings or weekends, then?’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Nobody does, unless they’re on call – which she doesn’t do.’
‘What’s she like?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Oh, late thirties, dark hair streaked with grey, a bit plain… and unmarried,’ he said. ‘No ring,’ he added to Rebecca’s quizzical look.
‘We’ll make a detective of you yet,’ she said.
He went on, ‘And she doesn’t like men.’
‘How d’you know
that
?’ she demanded.
‘She didn’t like me –’ he hurried on before we could make the obvious comment – ‘and the other men around all avoided her.’
‘Definitely a detective,’ I said.
He smiled cheesily. Rebecca said,
‘So the bottom line is you don’t think it’s worth pursuing?’
‘No.’
They stayed for a bit longer and tossed a few ideas about. I asked Tim if he’d heard any more from Roland and he said no.
But before we could really develop that theme, nursey came in and shooed them away.
The snow lining the road crunched as Rebecca pulled up outside Craig’s at 7.30. He’d phoned in the afternoon to offer her a lift to Marc’s, and she’d said she didn’t mind sharing a car so long as it was hers. He’d accepted.
He must have been looking out for her, because the door opened just as she pushed the bell.
‘How did you get on at the hospital?’ he asked after she’d negotiated the pavement and they were on their way.
‘OK. They said they’d like to take me on – as a clerk – but they’d have to get permission from above.’ She shot him a glance – ‘I’d much rather have the job at your place, obviously.’
‘Did they actually offer you a job?’
‘No, but they did ask if I’d accept if they did, so I had to tell them about County Hall. They were fine about it and we agreed to leave it open for the moment.’
He told her he hadn’t heard anything yet and she said she wouldn’t have expected it. A few minutes later they parked near Marc’s house.
Marc himself let them in and took them to the living room, where to her surprise, she saw Sophie, sitting with a drink in her hand.
He got them both drinks – wine for Craig and juice for her – then went to the kitchen to see if Hannah needed any help. A pleasant, steamy aroma drifted back to them.
Sophie asked Craig if everything was still on course for the forum and they chatted about that while Rebecca looked around the room.
The child detritus had been cleared away and it was tidy and comfortable, if a little Spartan. The only pictures were Van Gogh’s sunflowers, and a rather intense pre-Raphaelite lady in filmy gowns.
She realised Sophie was speaking to her –
‘How did your session with Ron go?’
‘Oh, fine.’ She went on, ‘I was a bit apprehensive to tell you the truth, but he’s a lot more bearable one-to-one.’
‘Why were you apprehensive?’ Sophie’s smile suggested she knew perfectly well.
‘Because I thought he might be an octopus as well as a bore.’
‘Ah. And he wasn’t?’
‘No. Neither, to be honest.’
Marc came in and said dinner was ready. They followed him to the dining room next door and sat down while he took plates and dishes from Hannah through the hatch. Rebecca glanced round. The room was dominated by the dark, doomy portrait of Beata Beatrix doing her thing with her hands, and Rebecca guessed that Hannah must be in charge of the picture selection.
Then Hannah herself came round, red-faced and slightly harassed.
‘Hi everyone –’ she sketched a circular wave ‘– don’t say anything, let’s just eat.’
They laughed as Marc poured wine and then started serving. It was Beef Stroganoff that looked as good as it had smelled and Rebecca realised how long it was she’d had a decent meal. She was slightly surprised, she’d thought Hannah might be vegetarian.
It was beautiful, so good that the silence after the obligatory compliments was quite natural. It was as though you could taste each ingredient separately, and yet in a glorious blend at the same time.
Rebecca looked up to find Hannah’s eyes on her – then Hannah looked away. She wasn’t as absorbed in the food as the others – maybe the stress of preparing it, maybe because food you’ve cooked yourself never does taste quite the same.
Marc offered the wine around again. Rebecca declined – she’d allowed herself one glass, but didn’t want any more.
Hannah said, ‘How’s the search for jobs going, Rebecca?’
She swallowed before answering. ‘Not bad, actually…’ She told her about the interview with Craig’s boss. ‘It was supposed to be informal, but turned out to be –’ she glanced at Craig ‘– let’s say
searching
…’
‘I told you, that’s a good sign,’ Craig said.
‘Anyway, he’s going to let me know.’ Rebecca finished.
‘I thought they were supposed to be shedding jobs,’ Hannah said.
‘We are,’ Craig said, ‘but there’s someone leaving who needs to be replaced.’
Hannah asked her about the hospital and she described her fictitious interview there. ‘Obviously, I’d rather have the job at County Hall,’ she finished.
Marc asked her how the meeting with Ron had gone and she repeated what she’d told Sophie. The octopus jibe brought a smile even from Hannah.
Rebecca, emboldened by this asked her about the rents on the shop and flat.
‘Well, I can’t tell you off the top of my head, I’ll have to look it up. Why d’you ask?’
Rebecca started to tell her when Marc interrupted – ‘I’d better come clean,’ he said. ‘Ron rang me yesterday and told me how thoroughly you’d looked into everything.’ He went on, ‘He seemed to have this idea that you were willing to coordinate the operation of moving the shop.’
Rebecca laughed. ‘Not while I’m trying to get a job… anyway, he convinced me that there isn’t much we can do at the moment.’
‘Well, we certainly won’t be evicting Emma and Will,’ Hannah said sharply.
‘I never suggested we should,’ Rebecca shot back.
‘Anyway –’ Marc overrode them ‘– he, Ron, said he thought you had some interesting ideas.’
Rebecca, wondering which ideas he meant, said, ‘That’s nice of him, but they were only that, ideas. He has a very impressive local knowledge, which shot most of them down –’ She told them about the surrounding housing estates.
‘Oh, Ron knows his stuff underneath all the clownish garb,’ Marc said.
‘Why
does
he look like that?’ she asked curiously.
‘Because he wants to, I expect,’ Hannah said.
‘Compensation,’ said Sophie.
‘For what?’ Craig asked her.
‘His otherwise rather undistinguished persona.’
‘Ooh, you bitch!’
‘Look who’s talking…’
There was no aggression whatsoever between them, Rebecca perceived amid the laughter, and she wondered again about their relationship.
She said as the laughter faded, ‘I’ll tell you who else has got an impressive grasp of things – Ron’s friend Malcolm. I’m surprised he’s not on the committee.’
Hannah let out a snort. ‘You mean that speech of his at the meeting? Oh sure, it was clever, but I thought it came dangerously close to racism.’
Craig stared at her. ‘How d’you work
that
out?’
‘Those references to the
lucky
few
who’re allowed over here. How patronising, and rude. As was the suggestion that they stay put and be grateful for the crumbs we throw them – these are fellow human beings we’re talking about.’
Craig, still looking at her, said, ‘Hannah, you’re trying to blend the unblendable. BTA and
Open
Door
have completely different agendas and we should –’
‘Rubbish. We’re both about repaying our debt to Africa.’
‘There’s a difference between helping starving people in their own countries and bringing them over here.’
‘We should be doing both.’ She stared back at him and said deliberately, ‘What about people with incurable diseases like AIDS, whose only hope for treatment is to come here?’
It seemed to Rebecca that the silence went on for longer than the second it took Craig to reply…
‘For the cost of treating one case in Britain, we could treat something like a hundred in their own country. How many times do I have to tell you, Hannah, that I want to benefit the many, not the few.’
Hannah was about to reply when Marc pre-empted her –
‘I’m going to use chair and host’s prerogative to veto this. We already know how divisive it is.’ Turning to Rebecca, he went on, ‘So Ron wasn’t so bad when you got to know him?’
‘Not at all,’ she said, wondering how she could keep the controversy going without appearing to…
But Marc had turned to Craig, who was still looking a little put out. ‘Why don’t you tell us what you’ve got planned for the forum.’
Craig got his brain into gear and started, a bit haltingly at first, then more confidently – he had a persuasive, almost compelling manner and Rebecca found herself listening too.
As it led into tangents that the others picked up on, she remembered with a jump what she was there for. She caught Marc’s attention –
‘The loo?’ she mouthed at him.
‘Up the stairs, right, at the end of the passage.’
She thanked him and slipped out. At the top of the stairs, she waited a moment in case anyone else came out, then went left. Door on the right, she turned the handle and put her head round… Spare bedroom…
A floorboard creaked as she came out… door at the end… large, old-fashioned airing cupboard…
Back past the top of the stairs, door on the left… their son’s bedroom, she could hear him snuffle as he turned over… then, opposite, the main bedroom…
It wasn’t as large as she thought it would be… then she saw why – it had what looked like a walk-in wardrobe… Unlikely, but she had to check… she flitted over, slid it open… only clothes.
Just the bathroom left – she came out of the bedroom door and walked straight into Hannah –
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said quickly, ‘but I can’t find the loo…’
Hannah was staring at her… ‘It’s there,’ she said, pointing…
‘Oh thanks, I was getting desperate…’ she smiled and hurried off to it, feeling Hannah’s eyes on her back.
She closed the door, locked it, then leaned against the wall and closed her own eyes… Why did it have to be Hannah…?
At least she’d followed the First Rule:
When
caught
with
your
pants
down
,
say
as
little
as
possible
.
Her face was burning, so she bathed it at the sink. She tidied herself up, pulled the flush and went back down.
Hannah looked up at her as she came in. She made herself smile again, resumed her seat and tuned in to the conversation.
Pudding was served – pavlova, which Rebecca had to force herself to eat, and then they adjourned to the living room for coffee.
She found herself next to Sophie. She asked her what she did for a living and was unsurprised to hear she was a social worker.
‘Talking of which,’ Sophie said to the company at large, ‘Duty calls in the morning and I need to be off soon. D’you want a hand clearing up?’ she asked Hannah.
Hannah said no and a few minutes later, saw Sophie to the door. Rebecca, reflecting that Sophie always seemed to be the first to leave, looked at Craig and said she’d like to be going soon too.
‘Sure,’ he agreed, and she sensed he wasn’t unhappy to go.
They pulled on their coats and thanked Hannah, who, to Rebecca’s surprise, kissed them both on the cheek. Then she and Marc stood in the doorway as they drove off. It was as though the bedroom incident hadn’t occurred…
‘I just don’t know what to make of that set-up,’ Rebecca said quite sincerely after a few moments.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, for a start, the display of affection just now after she’d been having a go at us earlier. You especially.’
‘Oh, that’s just Hannah. She feels very passionately about things and –’
‘I’d noticed,’ she said, and sensed him smile…
‘Yeah…’ He went on, ‘and she’s very committed –’
‘That too.’
‘ – to the idea we’ve got a debt to repay to Africa, I was going to say.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
‘Sure, but not to the extent
she
is.’
Rebecca said, ‘I wonder why she doesn’t join
Open
Door
if she feels that strongly.’
‘Probably because she and Marc like to work together.’
‘I’m sure
she
does, but does he?’
‘Oh, Marc’s very good at leading from behind… down here –’ he said as they approached his turning.
It occurred to her as she drove down his road that they were talking as if they’d known each much longer – which was no bad thing… was she likely to get any more from him tonight?
She felt sure he was going to ask her in and decided to accept. She found a space near his house and pulled in.
‘Thanks, Rebecca,’ he said. Then, ‘Will you come in for a coffee?’
She hesitated long enough to make it clear she really was thinking about it, then said, ‘All right, a quick one. Have you got any decaff?’
‘It’s what I’m having.’
She locked the car and followed him inside. The hall was very tidy and the tiled floor shone. There were black and white prints of the cathedral and other parts of Exeter on the walls… She’d noticed before that men living on their own tended to be either very tidy or complete sluts.
He showed her into his sitting room and went to make the coffee. She looked round, as she always did entering a house for the first time…