Catch Your Death. Mark Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 in 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. One of those mos­quitoes could then infect a human. Kate’s team were trying to develop a vaccine for WNV. So far, they had not been successful.

      Kate caught sight of her reflection in the dark glass. Her face 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 lip-gloss, 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 they’d met in the street and he had told her he was Stephen’s brother. Stephen had never mentioned he had a twin, which seemed very odd in retrospect. Maybe 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 contact lenses 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 played back that meeting with Paul in her mind, it made her cringe. She had felt so awkward, standing there with Jack, having to talk loudly over the roar of the London traffic. Paul seemed uneasy too. She couldn’t blame him – being confronted by a woman who is staring at you like you’re a phantom would do that to anyone.

      ‘How did you know Stephen?’ he had asked.

      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, 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, СКАЧАТЬ