by C F Dunn
Matias and Sung looked pleased at my enthusiasm, but Matthew’s face became a mask. I shot him a quick, puzzled look and he caught my glance and his expression changed instantly to incorporate a smile.
Sung was talking again. “Megan’s got the best bit – she gets to extract the samples.” He grinned in the direction of the blonde girl who came to stand on the outside of the circle; she pulled a face at him and then stared at me inquisitively with startlingly blue eyes that were decidedly frosty. So this was the girl who supposedly made a pass at Matias. It must have been a total fabrication on his part because she could barely take her eyes off Matthew as he introduced her.
“Megan joined our team from another university last year.”
The girl came forward, continuing to hold the stats in her hand. Close up, she was even more attractively nubile, and probably in her mid-twenties – she just looked younger.
“Dr Matthew headhunted her from Europe; Shotter was well pleased,” Sung butted in. I bet he was, I thought. Megan simpered and Matthew paid no attention to the looks they exchanged, which were more akin to the sniping of siblings than mature researchers. Instead he turned to the girl.
“Megan, would you like to explain your role in the research?”
She flicked her long, thick, silky hair back from her face. Whereas the movement had been intended to disarm Matthew earlier, it was more a dismissive gesture for me. Taller in her high-heeled shoes than me by several inches, she stared down with an imperious look I guessed she reserved for inferior mortals such as myself. Her sing-song voice would have been melodious had she not been chewing pins.
“I specialize in atypical bio-morphological chromographic abnormalities indicating structural mutation in the blood samples. It’s very complicated.”
There was a tinge of smugness in her explanation. I adjusted the expression on my face to look suitably impressed.
“It sounds it; I’m not sure if I followed that. Let me see, so you chart unexpected colour changes in the chemistry of blood samples that point to an alteration in the cellular structure – is that correct? Is that at a sub-cellular level?” I asked innocently.
There was a pause. “Yes,” she said, almost surly.
“Thank you, you explained it very clearly.”
Sung guffawed. “Nice try, Megan.” She glowered furiously at him. Matthew cleared his throat or it might have been a laugh.
“Everyone else here is at various stages of completing doctoral work.”
“Where does your area of research fit in?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Most of my time is spent in supervision; it doesn’t leave me much for my own research.”
The corners of his mouth had tightened imperceptibly, as if he kept something back from me – or perhaps he thought I wouldn’t be interested. He moved to the side of the room and I followed him.
“And this is where we analyse the data,” he said, showing me a bank of computers along one side of the wall; an awesome amount of brain-power must be locked inside those machines.
“I wonder what a suitable software package could do to my subject,” I said wistfully. He came back to stand by me.
“I think that you probably already have the best tool available, don’t you?”
I must have looked mystified because his mouth twitched in amusement.
“There’s no programme on earth that will understand the intricacies of the human condition as you can.”
“Oh.”
Was that a compliment or merely a statement? Matias wandered up to us, hands in his pockets.
“Did Miss Marple, here, tell you where we were this afternoon?”
Matthew raised an eyebrow enquiringly and I clarified the situation before Matias said something I might regret.
“One of my students is being questioned over the attack on the girl; but I’m sure he didn’t do it and, from what I gathered from the police, I don’t think they have any real evidence to implicate him anyway.”
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Aydin Yilmaz – he’s Turkish and I bet that isn’t helping.”
“What do you mean?” Matthew said sharply.
“Well, someone tipped off the police and from reading between the lines, I’m guessing his religion came into it. There’s an element of prejudice, I’d bet on it.”
He regarded me shrewdly. “You’re quite good at that, aren’t you – reading between the lines?”
Am I? I thought. No mistaking it this time: that was a compliment.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I do know Aydin is in a vulnerable position and, well…”
“You thought you would try and help,” he completed for me. “If I can, yes.”
Without warning, a slight click and whirr from above my head made me look up as the automated UV shutters were activated by a faint gleam of sun. They rolled down the length of the window, locking securely in place. The room was cast into semi-darkness, almost instantly replaced by artificial daylight as the light-sensors came into play. I remembered to stop myself from gaping unattractively.
“See – I told you he’s clever,” Matias gloated. He didn’t need to tell me, but I liked to hear it all the same. “But I have a bone to pick with you, before you get complacent,” he added in Matthew’s direction. “That bookcase is darned heavy.” He rubbed his shoulder ruefully. “How did you shift it by yourself?”
“There’s a knack to it,” Matthew answered. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Not really, only my manly pride; I had to get help from a girl to move it an inch.” He directed a look towards me.
“Are you all right?” Matthew asked me, overlooking Matias’ faked self-pity.
“I’m fine; Matias did all the heavy work.”
Matias leaned between us. “Emma, thanks but I was really after some sympathy from the doctor here.”
“You have it,” Matthew grinned.
“Lunch would do as compensation?” Matias suggested.
“Sympathy is all you’ll get, I’m afraid; I’ve some work to finish up here.”
“Sympathy won’t fill my belly, but if that is all that’s on offer, it’ll have to do. Lunch, Emma?”
I would rather have stayed, but felt guilty at keeping him from his work, and I didn’t want to outstay my welcome.
“I’m coming,” I said, then more shyly to Matthew, “Thanks for showing me around.”
“I’ll bring the translation over when I’ve finished, if you wish.”
“Yes, please,” I said, trying not to let my eagerness show, and he smiled the way he did when it touched his eyes.
When I glanced through the big glass window as Matias shut the door behind us, Matthew was saying something quietly to Megan before moving on to speak to one of the students. She pouted and pulled her hair back from her face, securing it with a band.
Chapter 9
The Diner
“LET’S GET OUT OF HERE FOR A BIT; I’m going stir-crazy in this place.” I stared gloomily out of Elena’s window. “And the weather doesn’t help.”
I waited for Elena to finish some work after the last class of the day. She hadn’t turned up for our girls’ night in the day before and she denied getting my lilac Post-It note. Cryptic though it might have been, I thought it clear enough to warrant a reply at least. As she had also been pretty preoccupied with Matias of late, she agreed we must spend some time together.
It had been a week of unprecedented amounts of sunshine for the time of year and I itched to get outside. More to the point, I hadn’t seen Matthew since going to the lab, and I began to think something was wrong. As usual, I analysed every word I said and every look he made, but couldn’t identify any one thing in particular. As my neurosis accumulated over the course of the week I became increasingly grouchy with everyone around me until I decided that I would either have to lock myself away out of compassion for my friends, or do something to divert myself.
My group found it difficult to concentrate as wel
l and I couldn’t blame them. Aydin joined us again after being released from custody without being charged. He remained quiet, but not as subdued as the others, who had cause to feel chastened. He returned my books after the tutorial.
“Thank you for your help for getting me out,” he said in his heavily accented English.
“I didn’t do anything, Aydin,” I said, surprised.
“You came to the police station. You brought me the books and you said something to make the doctor come and see me.”
Now I felt totally confused. “What do you mean? What doctor?”
“The doctor from here – from the medical centre.”
An inkling of suspicion grew rapidly. “Do you mean Dr Lynes, Aydin?”
“Evet – yes, the çoc güzel – very handsome one. He came and he talked to me, and then he left and I was set go.”
“Set free,” I corrected his English automatically, without paying attention to what I said. What on earth did Matthew know that swayed the police, except, of course, that he treated the girl immediately after the attack? “Did Dr Lynes say anything to you?”
“No, he just asked me questions.”
“What about?”
“My studies, my home, my family. Things such as this.”
“Nothing else – the college, the attack, people you know?”
He shook his head. “No, he listened and he watch me, that’s all.”
What had he been up to? There must have been a purpose to it.
“Well, I’m so glad they let you go; you can concentrate on getting your work done now, can’t you?” I didn’t mean to sound patronising, but I wanted to put a positive spin on it. Aydin grimaced but didn’t comment; the whole episode must have stuck in his craw and there was little anyone could do or say to make it any better.
“People make mistakes, Aydin, I’m sorry,” I apologized, perhaps because I thought someone ought to and it may as well be me.
“Thank you,” he said, but our conversation did nothing to lighten my mood.
Infused in late-afternoon light, the wooded slopes rose beyond the college parkland, wild and free; I yearned to be among them and my bones burned with impatience.
“Well – shall we go out? Escape? Break free? Make a run for it?” I opened and closed a book left on the window-sill without looking at it.
“Da,” Elena said, snapping the folder she was reading decisively shut. “We will make it a women’s night out – man-free. Where shall we go? Not the woods – or mountains,” she added rapidly as I threw a wistful look towards them.
I hadn’t been further than the campus shop so considered myself hardly in a position to make an informed choice.
“Somewhere no one will recognize us – nothing flashy and definitely not a dive. And no clubs – I don’t do clubs. Or singles’ bars.”
Elena put her head on one side, as she always did when considering something. “OK, OK, I know where to go. I drive.”
“You do?”
“Of course – you do not?”
“Well, I can, but I don’t – there’s not much need in Cambridge.”
Elena tutted. “Here you have to drive or you are…” and she cupped her hands in a cage, keeping the air trapped inside, “… like so.”
The “All American Diner” encompassed everything I considered a diner should, given my diet of films from an early age. There were no red-checked tablecloths, and cigarette smoke didn’t hang over the occupants, but banquettes and booths ran along the length of one wall, and low-slung glass shades hung over each table, lending an air of comforting familiarity.
I shuffled along my satisfyingly red-upholstered bench opposite Elena, and plonked my bag next to me. She was already devouring the menu and before long she folded it and placed it back on the table.
“You haven’t made your choice yet?” she asked.
“I have,” I contended.
She held her menu out to me. “But you must look at the menu.”
“No need, I know what I’m having. I’m embracing American culture and going for a burger and chips.” I felt pretty hungry this evening in an odd, hollow sort of way. Elena pulled a face. “What? Don’t tell me they don’t do burgers?” I asked.
“Burger and fries,” she corrected. “Of course they do, but you have to say fries or you will get…” she looked around the diner, and pointed to another table, “… chips.”
I applied my best cut-glass English accent with a dash of plumy-ness for good measure.
“Oh, crisps – I keep forgetting; these cultural differences are very confusing.”
Elena giggled. “They will think you very strange if you talk like that.”
“I can’t help it if English has moved on since we colonized the place.” I grinned at her horrified expression, but her eyes laughed.
“Shhh, they will hear you.”
The waitress came over to our table. “What can I get you guys?” She sounded bored. I recognized her as a student from our campus; she must be working her way through college.
Elena started to place the order. “I’ll have the extra-large Hawaiian and diet soda and Emma will have the house burger and…?” She waited for me to complete the order.
“Chips. Ow!” I exclaimed as she kicked me under the table. “Fries,” I amended as Elena reprimanded me with a frown, every bit the mother to her recalcitrant child.
The waitress gave me a funny look before going back to the kitchen with our order.
“Behave yourself!” Elena hissed.
“But I don’t want to; I’m always behaving myself and it’s my night off. Just because I’m British everyone expects me to act all proper.” I sounded suitably peeved. “And anyway, you can’t talk; where else on this planet would someone openly declare that they’re wearing an item of underwear?”
“Huh?”
“Pants. You’d get an odd look in Britain for that. Honestly, pants/trousers, trousers/pants; cultural differences are rife and very confusing – but also immensely entertaining.”
“Are you going to be difficult tonight?” she asked with a degree of gravity although her cheeks dimpled as she tried not to smile.
“I certainly hope so – it’s been a while since I had the chance. What about you – when were you last naughty?”
“Matias says I am always naughty.” She simpered deliciously and we both burst into giggles. I felt strangely light-headed at my freedom. I dibbled the straw in my drink, making the ice-cubes dance up and down in the water.
“So tell me, you and Matias are pretty serious, aren’t you? You’ve been together for some time.”
“Mmn.” She drank thirstily through her red-striped straw. “Three years.”
“He’s older than you, isn’t he? Has he been married before?”
“He’s thirty-eight and no, he hasn’t been married before – not like Sam.” She eyed me slyly, seeking a reaction, but I wasn’t thinking about Sam.
“What about you, Emma? If the most amazing man walked through that door right now and wanted to take you away from here, what would you do?”
“I would…” I rattled my fingers on the edge of the table, thinking it through. “I would ask him to wait a bit until I’d finished my latest research.”
Elena flipped her hands in the air and sat back with a look of exasperation.
“I give up – you are hopeless. You love your history so much that you would give up your life for it!”
“No-oo – not at all. I love chocolate and music, but I could almost do without them – almost. But I couldn’t live without my work – it is my life. There’s the difference. Isn’t it the same for you?”
“Nyet, it is not. History is my work, but if Matias asked me to marry him tomorrow, I would give it all up for him.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, remembering what Madge said about losing one’s identity when you married. “You can work and be married; times have moved on a bit since our parents’ day. Surely Matias wouldn’t want you to gi
ve up your job and I can’t honestly see you baking cupcakes all day.”
“It is not what Matias wants, it is what I want, Emma. I want to make a home for him, to have children. Why would I want to work if I could have all of that instead? Have you never wanted this with a man?”
I pushed some stray grains of salt around the wooden table-top before answering.
“No, not really; not recently, at least.” I gathered the grains in a little heap and sub-divided it into four equal piles. I could feel her eyes on me and a little gasp escaped her lips.
“But there was someone, wasn’t there! Sam did say – go on – tell me; I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”
I rapidly weighed up the wisdom of telling her anything, but it was bound to come out sooner or later so I might as well broach the subject now when we were alone, rather than risk her asking me in front of someone who might matter – someone like Matthew.
“That includes Matias,” I warned.
She gave a little pout. “Oh, OK, not even Matias.” She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes sparkling.
“It’s not that interesting,” I said, dryly. She waved her finger at me.
“Don’t underestimate your ability to entertain; hurry up, I want to know all the details.”
I sighed and delved deep to find the right words before launching on a subject that I had rendered taboo for nigh on a decade.
“Well, he was older than me for a start – a lecturer when I was an undergrad – totally off limits, you understand, which made it all the worse – and all the more exciting.” Elena nodded her head in agreement. “I should have known better, but I hadn’t been away from home before and he was very attentive, and attractive – in an odd sort of way – and confident; he made me feel… wanted.” I usually avoided talking about my past to anyone and, doing so now, raked memories like hot coals.
A pucker crossed Elena’s brow. “What do you mean, ‘sort of attractive’ – was he or wasn’t he? Or was he ugly?” She enunciated the word with relish.
“No, certainly not that. He was half French and half English, and he had that Gallic look about him – you know, all dark hair and slightly olive-skinned, brown eyes – very attractive in a somewhat superior way, but not handsome as such…”