Catch Your Death. Mark Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ gone along on a whim, feeling that she needed to exercise the non-scientific synapses of her brain before they withered and died completely. Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas had always fascinated her. She’d turned up at the library where the free talk was taking place, and sat down in the middle of a long curved row at the front. Vernon had strode out before his meagre audience with the demeanour of a man taking the stage at Madison Square Gardens, rather than giving a lecture to half a dozen people in a library. What a prat, Kate had thought – until he began to speak. He was so passionate, so smart and articulate, and he knew his subject so well, that by the end of the talk, all the women present had fallen for him. He knew it, too – he made lingering eye-contact with each one, and when he asked, ‘Any questions?’ there was a glint in his eye that made every woman there want to cry, ‘Will you go on a date with me?’

      But it was Kate he’d chosen that day, breaking away from the two breathless sophomores who were quizzing him afterwards, and introducing himself to her by the ‘Just Returned’ shelves.

      ‘I love your accent,’ he’d said. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

      The months that followed had felt to Kate like skydiving – a constant teetering on the edge of new experiences, a rush of adrenaline and the thrill of the new. Vernon introduced her to a world of culture she’d never experienced (or been able to afford) before: the ballet, the opera, art-house movies, poetry cafes. He gave her a reading list as long as her arm, horrified that she’d never read the Beat Poets, and declaimed extracts of On The Road to her as they lay in his double bed, his arm hooked casually around her neck, a joint in his free hand.

      However, despite her infatuation, there were elements of his personality with which she was less than enamoured right from the beginning: the way he frequently mocked his colleagues and students, mercilessly picking on their weaknesses. Kate laughed at first, because he was funny in his cruelty, but after a while she tried to change the subject when he would gossip and slander. They had occasional bust-ups, great screaming painful rows in which he called her boring and straight and she walked out and said they were finished. But he always came after her, wooing her back into his life and bed with his words, tender again. It was unlike any other relationship she’d ever had, and the volatility of it excited her.

      Things started to go downhill too soon, though, when Vernon failed to be appointed for the professorship he’d thought was in the bag. They’d been married a year by then, Jack was a new baby, and money was tight. It didn’t help that they were living in a tiny one-bed apartment on campus. Unfortunately, the timing roughly coincided with Kate being awarded her own PhD, and Vernon could barely bring himself to congratulate her. On the day of her graduation ceremony he made an excuse about having a migraine, and she later discovered he’d been seen in a bar with one of the prettier of his freshman students.

      She was distracted from her unwelcome memories by the sight of a mosquito flitting about near the window. She immediately thought of her work instead – the many long hours staring into an electron microscope, studying the West Nile Virus and others like it. Viruses are so tiny that they can only be seen with a modern electron microscope. So tiny that hundreds of thousands would fit on the size of a pin. Kate and her fellow researchers spent their lives absorbed in this miniature world.

      If only all her problems were as small – not huge like all this stuff with Stephen and Paul. She hadn’t come back to England to chase ghosts. Honestly, she hadn’t even thought about Stephen or the Cold Unit on the way back here – it had been the last thing on her mind. As she’d told Paul, she hadn’t thought about it for years.

      But now she’d met Paul and read the letter, and a wound she’d thought long-healed had been torn open again. Feelings she thought were dead had proven themselves well and truly alive – and kicking.

      Tonight, after Paul left, she had toyed with the idea of checking out at dawn and moving to another hotel. She didn’t need this complication. She had to find a school for Jack, a new job for herself. She had to get settled as soon as she could, for Jack’s sake, and so that Vernon wouldn’t be able to accuse her of being some kind of irresponsible vagrant.

      But would she be able to move on with her life without finding out the answers to all of these questions? She decided that she would spend another day, maybe two, with Paul, trying to figure out what had really happened. She owed Stephen that much. After that, even if they hadn’t unearthed the truth, she would have to put it aside and try to settle down.

      What Kate didn’t know was that within forty-eight hours she would be on the run for her life; and that settling down wouldn’t be an option.

       Chapter 11

      Paul was waiting in the reception area when Kate emerged from the lift the next morning, Jack close by her side. He stood up to meet her, looking as tired as she felt, but also relieved. Perhaps he’d been worried that she might have done a disappearing act. She decided against telling him how close she’d been to doing just that. She also wouldn’t tell him how relieved she felt, because getting dressed she’d wondered if he would actually be there. What if he’d had a change of heart? She could imagine him sitting at home, laughing to himself, thinking how crazy he was to get involved with this looney tunes chick with the dodgy memory.

      Even though he looked tired, he also looked as if he’d made a bit of an effort before coming out. His hair had been washed and was fashionably spiked, though it had gone a little flat on one side, and he seemed to be wearing aftershave. Maybe a touch too much. ‘What is it?’ he said, looking alarmed. ‘Have I got something on my face?’

      Kate realised she had been staring rather intently at Paul so she laughed and shook her head.

      ‘I’ve brought my laptop so we can . . .’ He stopped himself, realising he’d forgotten something. ‘Morning Jack,’ he said.

      ‘Hello. Um.’ He looked to his mum for help.

      Paul laughed. ‘Don’t worry, mate, I couldn’t remember names when I was your age either.’

      Jack looked puzzled. ‘My name’s Jack, not mate. You smell funny.’

      ‘Jack!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Sorry about that. You don’t smell funny. You smell . . . nice.’

      Paul’s face twisted with awkwardness as he struggled to find a response. He was saved by Jack saying, ‘Mummy, what are we having for breakfast? I’m hungry.’

      ‘How about going to Starbucks?’ Paul asked. He added, ‘They have wi-fi there.’

      ‘They might have wi-fi, but I’m not sure if you can get a very healthy breakfast there,’ Kate said. But now Jack wanted to go to Starbucks. She gave in. McDonald’s yesterday, now this. When this was over she was going to feed Jack nothing but organic fruit and vegetables for a month.

      Paul said, ‘I called my parents last night. I just wanted to double check that they hadn’t received any letters from Stephen before he died, just in case he wrote to them too. They hadn’t, and then I felt bad for ringing and stirring things up, making them think about him.’

      Kate touched his arm. ‘I imagine they think about him every day anyway.’

      ‘Yeah. I guess you’re right.’

      ‘They say you never get over the loss of a child.’ She had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the din of milk being frothed in big stainless steel jugs.

      Paul frowned. ‘I just wish that sometimes they’d СКАЧАТЬ