Life Class (39 page)

At least Malcolm had sounded friendlier than she’d expected, and had seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea that she was planning to visit. She considered telling him that the plan could fall through, that it all hinged on the bravery of a seventeen-year-old boy, but decided against it. Cross that bridge when and if, she’d thought.

It took twenty minutes before the train pulled in to Strouley station. Doors opened and closed. Businessmen and women with their laptops, and mothers with young children began to fill the seats. Soon, the train started again and quickly picked up speed. The view, as they travelled fast along this beautiful valley, dragged her gaze away from people watching. There was Stowbridge Gardens. She had a moment to catch a glimpse of her flat and then it was gone. Within another minute or two, there was the Wyvern Mill site where Stefan had his workshop. Even at this speed she could see glints of the canal between the trees and noticed how the dense green of the hedgerow was regularly interrupted by shrubs creamy with pads of blossom. Elderflower?

Dory’s thoughts skittered back to that conversation with her sister, when they’d discussed her intention to start a business. Fran had suggested homemade produce – wine, chutney, sloe gin, but Dory had laughed off the notion. It was then that the idea of setting up a private clinic was born. It was where her expertise lay, after all. And here she was on her way to see her ex in the clinic they’d established together. Though they’d had that conversation in the autumn of last year, it was now midsummer and she was no further forward, still undecided if she should permanently settle in the area.

A little knot of apprehension twisted in her gut. When talking to Malcolm on the phone she’d made the visit sound like a spur of the moment, a chance to ‘do’ Knightsbridge on her day off. All too easy to predict how he was going to react when, face to face, he heard the real reason she was ‘popping by’. Dory braced her shoulders. She was used to his tantrums. Water off a duck’s back. All that mattered was that ultimately he’d do what she asked. It was the outcome that was important. The knot in her stomach tightened as she admitted to herself it wasn’t just Dom she was anxious for. Stop thinking about it, she told herself.

The south-facing side of the long valley sloped up steeply. Here and there, in between fields and dense patches of woodland, the hillside was clustered with stone-built houses. Along there somewhere, hidden in amongst the trees, was Stefan’s house, but she couldn’t pick it out. Cars travelled along the road that ran roughly parallel to the canal and the train track. The river cut its meandering channel somewhere in between. These four arteries, all running eastward, began to converge as the valley narrowed. With a whine and a whoosh the train plunged into darkness. Lights came on in the carriage.

It always took longer than anticipated to travel the length of this tunnel. Minutes passed before the blackout beyond the window lightened. The tunnel had given way to a cutting, still shadowed by its high, stone-clad sides. Abruptly, the train emerged into the golden green dazzle of full sunlight again. Her mobile phone began to ring. She delved into her jacket pocket.

‘Dory?’ Stefan asked, almost as if he half-expected someone else to answer. ‘This is the third time I’ve rung.’

‘The train’s just come out of the Framwall Tunnel.’

‘Dom
has
caught something … the nurse called it GC.’

‘Gonorrhoea,’ Dory said. ‘Is that all?’

‘Apparently.’

Several passengers were looking at her with raised eyebrows. She half laughed, turning towards the window and looking out at the wide, flat fields of creamy wheat and bright yellow rape.

‘I don’t know why you’re laughing.’

‘I’ll explain later. I hope you were reassured that GC is common and treatable.’

‘We were. Dom was referred to the doctor, who arrived just after you left. Dom asked me to go in with him. It was the infection that was producing the symptoms that worried him. The doctor explained it all and she gave us a prescription. And she offered Dom a vaccination.’

‘That’ll be against Hepatitis B. Good. What are you going to do with the rest of the day?’

‘We need to get this prescription to the chemist. While it’s being made up we may have coffee and a bun. What?’ Dory heard another voice in the background. ‘Oh. Right. Apparently Dom needs some more miniatures, additions to his Orc battalion, so I daresay I’ll treat him to those. When will we see you, do you think?’

When will we see you?
Stefan’s words sent a shivery pulse through her, even though she knew it was the result, not her, they eagerly awaited.

‘Depends how busy Malcolm is. Probably tomorrow lunchtime. I’ll phone you. Have a good day. Enjoy the bun!’ As she ended the call, the mobile phone beeped at her and the warning message, Battery Low, appeared on the screen. Dory made a mental note to recharge it when she got to Malcolm’s place. Given the favour she was going to ask him, she didn’t think borrowing his charger would be a significant addition to her indebtedness.

Settling back against the seat, Dory smiled at the notion of Stefan treating Dom to a present, like a dad after taking his son to the dentist. Despite the life he’d led, Dom was still a child. Given the gravity of the unanswered question that still hung over them, it was surprising how light-hearted she suddenly felt. All year, she’d felt more or less depressed, but since Friday there had been an inexplicable lift to her spirits. It’s probably the good weather, she told herself. Don’t fret about the whys. Just enjoy the feeling while it lasts. She closed her eyes.

‘Bloody hell, Dory! I just can’t believe you were so cavalier as to assume I’d do it,’ Malcolm said. He looked flushed and disagreeable. Why did I ever fancy you? Dory wondered, noticing his thinning, sandy hair, and his increasingly grizzled eyebrows. She looked around. They’d redecorated the premises since she’d left. She could detect Gabriella’s taste in the flounces and piping, and was amused to see how large Malcolm’s desk had grown.

‘Oh, come on,’ she said placidly, re-zipping the cool bag and putting it back into her bag. ‘You’re doing tests all the time. Just slot this one in as a favour? If you’re very busy I can wait till tomorrow. You
are
still all right about putting me up?’

‘Of course. Gabriella’s made up the guest bedroom. I just didn’t expect … Whose is it? You’re not trying to check out a new boyfriend on the cheap are you?’

‘I won’t dignify that with an answer,’ she said. ‘Look, if you don’t want to do it, I’ll take my business elsewhere.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ Malcolm said quickly. ‘I don’t want anyone who remembers you as my business partner gloating that you’re using another clinic. Not that you wouldn’t be able to find loads that have been established since you left. They’re cropping up like weeds these days.’

‘I’m happy to pay, Malcolm, if that’s what it takes to get the result quickly. For heaven’s sake, in the old days we could turn a test around while the punter waited.’

‘We’re busier than ever.’

‘Despite the competition?’

‘Because we’re handling hundreds of email enquiries, as well as postal tests …’ All as a result of the website I insisted we had, Dory thought. ‘And that’s on top of all the patients, those
with
appointments and those who just walk in off the street.’

‘How does it feel to be so successful?’

‘Still paying off my second mortgage,’ he responded darkly.

Poor pig, she thought. She said, ‘I’m sorry the dissolution of our thirteen-year partnership was such a financial drain, but it was only fair. And as you very well know, I could have stuck out for more.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘It was only because I was unwell for the last couple of years …’

‘I was going to say, you’re looking very bonnie,’ he interrupted. You’ve been all right? Your thyroid fixed, is it?’

‘It will never be fixed, but I’ll be fine as long as I keep taking the Thyroxine.’

‘Good. Good. OK. Look, of course I’ll do your test. It was just a surprise. You should have warned me … Hell! I’ve just thought.’ He held up the vial she’d given him. Against the light from the office window, it flamed like a ruby. ‘This isn’t
your
blood, is it?’

‘No, Malcolm. If you must know, I’m doing a favour for a young man I know. Not only does it take the hospital I’m working for a week to produce HIV test results, they’re still only offering the ELISA test, which, as you know, is not necessarily definitive. And before you ask, he’s
not
my toy-boy.’

‘What’s this about toy-boys?’ Gabriella entered the room, enveloped in a personal microclimate of perfume. Dory could not tell which fragrance it was and quickly decided that she didn’t
want
to know. The girl who’d usurped her was a girl no longer. Her neck, wrists, and ears were hung with gold jewellery, and though there were no obvious signs of age – she couldn’t be much more than thirty, after all – her prettiness was no longer that of a young woman. And was there something stiff and possibly botoxed about her marble-smooth brow and taut cheeks. I’m being a bitch, Dory thought, at the same time digesting the fact that Gabriella’s curves were slightly less luscious, slightly more matronly beneath her crisp, white uniform. But her hair was still a glowing, rusty gold and her lips shone as if she’d just applied a slick of gloss before coming in to be reacquainted with Malcolm’s ex.

‘Hi, Gabby,’ Dory said, remembering too late that the woman didn’t like the diminutive. ‘How are you? You look well.’

‘Thanks. So do you. Doesn’t she look fab,

Malcolm?’

Dory sighed inwardly. She could hear the unspoken coda –
for her age.
But she’d anticipated this and had prepared herself to respond sweetly to Gabriella’s patronising tone. She dropped her eyes to the floor while she counted to ten. It was difficult to show off your affluence wearing a uniform, but the jewellery and those shoes told their own story.

‘Well, it’s great to see you both. Can you take a bit of time off for lunch or …?’

‘Oh, no. Far too busy.’

‘In fact, that’s what I came in for, Malcolm,’ Gabriella said. ‘Your next appointment is waiting.’

He shrugged apologetically at Dory. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll give this to the lab girls and ask them to fit it in.’ He held up the vial of blood. ‘No promises about how soon. Our own patients have to come first.’

‘Of course. I understand that.’ Dory nodded. Gabriella looked from one to another in query.

‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ Malcolm went on. ‘We’ll be finished by seven. There’s a well-reviewed Vietnamese restaurant just opened round the corner. OK with you, darling? I’ll book a table for half-past?’

‘Sure. But I’ll maybe go for something off the English menu.’ Gabriella gave a coy, little girly smile. She turned to look at the other woman. Her eyes travelled up and down. ‘That’s the trouble with living so far away from everywhere … You’ll be glad of the opportunity to browse in Harvey Nicks. You can buy yourself a few new outfits that are really
this season.’

It was tempting to inform Gabriella that her geography was defective. She hadn’t moved to the Outer Hebrides. There were plenty of posh shops nearby in Cheltenham, Cirencester, and Bath, should she need, or want, to buy herself high fashion. Today, dressing down in jeans, T-shirt, and linen jacket, had been a conscious statement. Dory declined to take part in some kind of style war with Malcolm’s girlfriend. But his girlfriend apparently still saw their relationship in competitive terms.

How would she have felt six months ago about this visit? Would she have been so sanguine? Even though she’d long since ceased caring about Malcolm, it had taken far longer to forgive the woman who’d supplanted her. Perhaps the fact she could no longer be bothered to join the fray was a good sign? Proof she had finally moved on?

Alighting in Paddington had come as a shock. It was like a sudden and total immersion in a dense, gritty, carbon-laden soup. She’d been away from London for less than a year, but the noise, the smell, and the mass of people clogging the concourse, had hit her like a blow. Now, as she emerged from the house, it hit her again, but less so this time. Mind over matter, she told herself, and strode off, initially in the direction of Marylebone High Street.

From there she walked on, via Wigmore Street and St Christopher’s Place, into Oxford Street. The crowds here were even worse than in Paddington. People jammed the pavement from kerb to shop front. They drifted slowly, changed direction, or simply stopped and stared dazedly, not knowing what they were doing or where they were going. There were tourists, women pushing buggies, and students with huge backpacks that could knock you flat if they turned without warning.

And the constant babble of noise! People yelled into mobile phones. Babies squalled, voices jabbered in unknown languages. Dory could admit there was a sense of potential, a kind of buzz that the world and his wife clearly wanted a part of … but did she? As she passed, she looked at the shops selling flimsy fashions, the department-store windows full of the latest this and the newest that, the kiosks selling tawdry tourist ephemera. But was there anything here
she
wanted?

Having wandered through several John Lewis departments, the panoply of merchandise only confused her. Dory quit the store empty-handed, telling herself she didn’t want the hassle of carrying bags through the busy streets. She crossed over to New Bond Street and walked down its length. Near the bottom, where Churchill and Roosevelt shared a bench and the road became Old Bond Street, she turned off.

Her policy of mind over matter hadn’t worked. It had been a long day, and Dory felt jaded and headachy. When it came down to it, she didn’t want to be in London at all, let alone with Malcolm and Gabriella, in this coldly minimalist restaurant which was so obviously the place to be seen – this week, at any rate. She was tired, yet the prospect of going back to the house and going to bed in the flat’s guest room oppressed her. As she read the menu she realised she wasn’t hungry either, even though she’d eaten nothing but a sandwich all day. Instead of saying so, she thanked them profusely and counterfeited delight to be treated to a very expensive meal in such a
fabulous
venue.