Where There's Smoke (1997)

by Simon Beckett

  "What made you choose it? The clinical thing, I mean?"

  Kate wondered if she had sounded as inane when she'd first met him. She waited for Alex to tell Lucy about the "super psychologists".

  "Oh, no particular reason," he said, dismissively. "It was just something I liked the sound of."

  He didn't look at her, but Kate was suddenly sure that Alex knew she was conscious of the omission. And, for some reason, she was glad he hadn't told Lucy.

  "What sort of -" Lucy began, but Kate never knew what her next question would have been. She broke off as a small figure came into the room. Dressed in a pale yellow nightgown, Emily hung back at the edge of the circle formed by the sofa and chairs. She had a shy smile on her face as she looked up coyly at Alex from under her hair. "And what are you doing out of bed, young lady?"Lucy asked, affecting sternness.

  Emily twirled back and forth on her toes, not taking her eyes from Alex. "Couldn't sleep."

  "And I don't suppose that's because you wanted to see who was here, is it?"

  Emily smiled but said nothing. Lucy sighed and turned to Alex. "I don't suppose you know anything about child psychology, do you? Like what to do with nosy children?"

  He gave an uncertain grin. "No, sorry."

  As if Emily had been waiting for him to speak, she edged closer. "Are you Kate's boyfriend?"

  "Time for bed, I think," Lucy said, coming out of her chair and swooping her up so quickly that they were half-way down the hallway before the little girl's objections sounded. As the noises of protest receded Kate forced herself to smile at Alex. Separated by the width of a cushion and mutual embarrassment, they waited for Jack to return with the drinks.

  Lucy had cooked roast chicken, rubbed with lemon and garlic and served with green beans and minted new potatoes from their garden. When she put her mind to it, she was a good cook, but she had obviously lost interest by the time it came to preparing a dessert. The chocolate gâteau she produced was mainly synthetic cream and additives, and misshapen on one side where it had been squashed in the shopping bag. But by that time the drinks had relaxed them enough so they could laugh about it.

  Kate felt light-headed, from relief as much as the wine she'd vowed not to drink. The initial awkwardness had slipped away unnoticed during the meal. Alex had unwound and seemed to hit it off with Lucy and Jack, who had either shelved or resolved whatever had been bothering them. Lucy had begun to flirt mildly with him, a sure sign of approval, and he and Jack had found common ground in books.

  Lucy caught her eye as Jack began to tell Alex about his business. "Give me a hand with the dishes?"

  Suddenly nervous, Kate helped her collect the dirty plates and followed her into the kitchen. Lucy closed the door behind them and turned to face her. "Tell me you're not still planning to go through with it."

  Kate had known Lucy was about to give her verdict, but this wasn't what she expected. "Why? Don't you like him?"

  "Of course I like him! He's a bit shyer than I'd have expected, but apart from that I think he's lovely." "What's wrong, then?"

  "Nothing's wrong. Except that you've been lucky enough to meet a really nice bloke, never mind how, and if you're still even considering going ahead with that artificial rubbish, then you want your head looking at!"

  Kate felt the tension drain out of her. "I thought you were going to say you didn't approve of him."

  "The only thing I don't approve of is if you still plan to go ahead with this stupid idea of yours. You've really fallen on your feet. Again. I just hope you make the most of it."

  "Lucy, I'm looking for a donor. That's all."

  "Oh, yes?"

  Lucy arched her eyebrows. "I suppose you're going to tell me you don't fancy him, either?"

  "I don't. I'm glad he's turned out to be a nice bloke and I don't deny I like him, but it doesn't go any further than that."

  Lucy looked pointedly at Kate's dress. "And I suppose that outfit's just coincidence, then?"

  Kate blushed. "I decided to buy myself something new, that's all."

  "Which just happens to show off your legs and boobs. Come on, I'm not stupid. You didn't put that on for my benefit. Or Jack's."

  Something in her tone alerted Kate. Remembering the tension between Lucy and Jack when she'd first arrived, she asked, "Is everything okay? Between you and Jack, I mean. I'm not prying," she added, hurriedly, seeing Lucy's suddenly closed expression, "but you seemed a bit…edgy with each other earlier."

  Kate thought she wasn't going to answer, but then Lucy turned away.

  "We had a bit of an argument, that's all."

  She paused. "About you, actually."

  "Me?"

  Two patches of colour had entered Lucy's cheeks. She looked at Kate with something like defiance. "Jack seems to think I'm being too hard on you. He says I should be more supportive. I told him I was only saying what I thought was for your own good, and that I wished he'd be half as bloody supportive towards me."

  Her mouth tightened. "But then I wouldn't look as good in a white mini, would I?"

  Abruptly, she squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, Christ, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

  Kate said nothing. She became aware of a tap dripping, rhythmically, into the silence. Lucy's forehead was creased in anguish. "Ignore me, I'm just in a bitchy mood, that's all. It wasn't only about you, anyway. Jack and I have been going through a bad patch lately, the kids have been brats. And to top it off I'm having an absolute bugger of a period—my stomach's swollen like a balloon, I feel yucky, and then you come walking in looking like Audrey bloody Hepburn. And instead of some geeky pervert, the only bloke who replies to your advert turns out to be a gem!" She gave a weak smile. "Sometimes, you know, things just get on top of you."

  Kate felt as though she'd inadvertently opened a door that should have stayed locked. "Do you want us to leave?"

  "No, of course I don't! Oh, look, please, don't take any notice of me. I'm just in a bad mood and feeling sorry for myself."

  The tap made a metallic plink as each drip hit the sink. Lucy reached out and tightened it. The drips slowed but didn't stop. She watched it, her arms folded around herself. "You'd better go back and rescue Alex," she said. "Jack'll have bored him witless about work by now. I'll be through when I've made the coffee."

  Kate opened the door. "Kate?"

  She looked back. Lucy gave a small shrug. "Sorry."

  Kate went out, letting the door close behind her. The glimpse of Lucy's bitterness had been as unexpected as a mouthful of rot from a wholesome apple. She stood for a while in the dark of the hallway. From behind her in the kitchen came the muted click of a cupboard being opened, the chink of crockery. Ahead of her a spill of light fell through the partly open lounge door. There was no sound of conversation. Kate went in.

  Alex didn't look up when she entered. He was alone at the table, his face full of shadows in the candlelight. His expression was lost and faraway as he regarded the small piece of fire swaying from the candle nearest him. Kate hung back as he passed his finger through the yellow dip, halted, then steadily passed it back. The flame fluttered with each passage, leaning towards his finger as though trying to catch it.

  Kate moved towards the table. "Doesn't that hurt?"

  Alex's eyes were wide and startled as his head came up. "What?"

  "Running your finger through the flame like that. Doesn't it hurt?"

  He stared at his finger and the candle as though he had only just noticed them. "Uh, no, not really."

  Kate sat down. "It must burn, though, surely?"

  He looked back into the flame. "Only if you let it." He smiled at her. "Try it."

  Kate laughed and shook her head. "No, thanks."

  "It doesn't hurt. Not if you're fast enough, and don't go too close to the wick."

  She gave him a sceptical look. "Honest. It won't burn if you do it right."

  They were staring at each other over the candle. Tentatively, Kate held out her finger until it was only a few inches away
from the flame. "No," she said, with a laugh, snatching it back.

  "Come on. Trust me."

  She looked at him and extended her finger again. A slim line of smoke rose from the flame. She could feel the heat against her skin. Her finger quivered. From the hallway came the sound of Lucy returning with the coffee. Kate quickly drew back her hand, feeling both relieved and cowardly. "I'll take your word for it."

  They shared a taxi home. Alex insisted on dropping off Kate first, assuring her that it was quicker that way. After a second's hesitation, she accepted. She hadn't planned on letting him know her address but, since he'd just been to Lucy and Jack's, that seemed petty and pointless. They sat next to each other on the back seat. To begin with, they talked easily enough. Alex seemed almost garrulous when she asked him about where he lived, explaining how he was in temporary accommodation after being caught up in a chain of house buyers. After exchanging contracts with the couple who were buying his flat, the people whose house he was supposed to be buying had withdrawn theirs from the market. "I'd got three days to find somewhere else before the new owners moved into mine," he told her. "So now most of my stuff's in storage, and I'm stuck renting a studio flat until I can find somewhere else."

  "Have you seen anywhere yet?"

  "Uh, no, not really. I don't have much time to look. You know how it is."

  His self-consciousness had returned. "Well, at least nobody'll know where to find you out of hours," Kate said, lightly, wanting to draw him out again. Alex looked confused. "Patients, I mean," she explained, feeling stupid. "I'd have thought being a psychologist was like a doctor, always getting people pestering you at home. Now you've moved, though, and gone ex-directory as well, I don't expect they'll be able to."

  She was beginning to wish she hadn't started. But Alex's frown cleared. "Oh…no, I suppose not."

  They lapsed into silence. Their isolation in the dark intimacy of the cab began to impose an awkwardness on them both. In the confined space, Kate could make out the clean, alcohol tang of Alex's aftershave. Paul had always drenched himself in the stuff, as though the reek of it declared his masculinity. Alex's was more subtle. She liked it. The taxi lurched round a bend, throwing her against him. Kate reached out to steady herself, and put her hand on his thigh. She jerked it away and straightened, stammering an apology. Her face was hot as she stared fixedly out of the window. Beside her, she sensed that Alex was equally tense. The air between them seemed charged with awareness, so that the slightest movement was magnified. She slid down the window, letting the breeze splash onto her face, and breathed deeply. Too much wine. "Is it too windy for you?" she asked Alex.

  "No, it's fine."

  There had been no mention of the reason they were together. Alex hadn't pushed her for a decision, for which she was glad. They might almost have been out on a date, in fact. Kate quickly put that notion out of her head.

  "I hope tonight hasn't been too much of an ordeal," she said.

  "Not at all. I've enjoyed it."

  She nearly said, So have i, but stopped herself. She glanced at the taxi driver. He probably couldn't hear through the glass partition, but she lowered her voice anyway. "I don't want you to feel you've been on trial, or anything."

  "It's okay, really." He smiled. "I liked them. They're a nice family."

  They were approaching Kate's road. "The next corner, please," she told the driver. She turned back to Alex, lowering her voice again. "Look, I appreciate how patient you've been, and I don't want to mess you about, but…Well, will it be all right if I let you know in a few days? About what I decide?"

  He nodded, quickly. "Yes, no problem."

  "It's just a big decision to have to make. I don't want to rush into anything."

  "No, of course. It's okay, I understand."

  The taxi grated to a halt. Kate reached into her bag and handed the driver a note to cover the fare, against Alex's protests. She put her hand on the door handle. "Well. Goodnight, then."

  "Goodnight."

  There was a moment when neither of them moved, then Kate pressed down the handle and climbed out. "I'll be in touch by the end of the week," she told Alex, through the open window.

  She phoned him the next evening.

  It was a doctor they saw, not the counsellor Kate had met on her first visit to the clinic. The three of them sat in her office around a low, claw and ball-footed table in comfortable leather chairs. Beside them, unused for the moment, was an antique cherrywood desk, dark and rich with the scent of beeswax. Sunlight striped the carpet through the horizontal bars of the fabric blinds. The window itself was closed, but air-conditioning made the office pleasantly cool. The entire hospital seemed to exist in an environment completely separate from the outside world.

  "The thing you have to remember, and I really can't stress this enough, is that legally 'donor' and 'father' are two different entities," the doctor was saying to Alex. Dr Janson was an attractive woman in her forties, with carefully styled blonde hair and clothes that supported the hospital's charges. She had told them that scheduling problems had meant she would see them instead of another counsellor, but Kate wondered if it wasn't more because she wanted to handle an unusual case herself.

  "It doesn't matter whether the donor is anonymous or, as in this instance, known to the patient," she continued. "Your responsibility begins and ends with the donation of the sperm. It's very important that you understand that."

  Alex nodded. He was leaning forward in his chair, listening to what the doctor said with an intent, almost anxious expression. He had been silent for most of the journey from Euston, but then Kate hadn't felt like talking either.

  Satisfied that the point had been made, Dr Janson continued. "Before we go any further, I should say that we're obliged to offer counselling before you give your consent for your sperm to be stored and used. Not everyone feels they need it, but it's there if you do. It's important you fully understand the implications of becoming a donor."

  She waited, a polite smile on her subtly made-up face. Alex glanced uncertainly at Kate. "Er…I don't think that's…I mean, no, it's okay, thanks."

  The doctor inclined her head. "As you wish. Just so long as you're aware that the offer has been made."

  She took a gold-plated fountain pen from the top pocket of her white coat and unscrewed its cap. "Now, I'll have to ask you a few questions about your general health and medical background."

  Kate let their voices wash over her as the doctor read out questions and Alex answered. Through the window she could see a small ornamental pond. A miniature willow hung its branches forlornly over the water's surface. Beyond it, the grounds were set out like a park, a tame landscape of trees and shrubs. This is what I'm paying for. The thought was obscurely disturbing.

  She turned away from the window as the doctor handed Alex a sheet of paper. "We need your consent to contact your GP, in case we have to find out more about your medical history, so if you could just fill in this form, please."

  Alex took the form. "I, uh, I don't have a pen."

  Dr Janson handed him her gold fountain pen. He began to write, then stopped. "Sorry, I don't, er, I don't know the surgery's address."

  His face had gone red. The doctor smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. Just put your GP's name and then sign it. You can give us the address next time you come. Provided there's no problem with the blood tests, we probably won't need it anyway since you're a known donor."

  Alex wrote quickly and passed back the sheet. The doctor put it to one side and handed him another. "This is a consent form for us to store and use your sperm. Read it carefully before you sign it, and please ask if you have any questions."

  She handed Kate another sheet of paper. "And while he's doing that, you might as well be filling in your consent form for the treatment."

  It was surprisingly uncomplicated. Kate filled in her name and address, and gave Alex's name as the donor, then signed it at the bottom. She gave it back to the doctor.

  Alex
looked up from his own form, frowning. "It says here about giving my consent for my, er, my sperm to be used after my death."

  He stumbled a little over consent.

  "That's so we can carry on using your samples in case anything happens to you before the treatment is concluded," the doctor answered, smoothly. "You don't have to give it, and we hope it won't be necessary. But if it was, without your consent we wouldn't be able to continue. There was a court case not long ago, if you remember," she said, including Kate now, "where a young woman had sperm taken from her husband when he was in a coma, so she could be inseminated with it after he died. Even though he was her husband, it caused all sorts of problems because she hadn't got his written consent. It's usually just a formality, but unless you have any strong objections, it's best to be covered for it."

  Alex still looked uncomfortable. "What happens to any…any samples that are left over? Afterwards, I mean?"

  "That's entirely up to you."

  She smiled. "Obviously, though, the clinic is grateful for any donations. So if you've no objections, we'd like to keep them frozen as part of our donor panel."

  "So they can be used on someone else?"

  "At some point, possibly, yes."

  Alex shook his head. "No. No, I don't want that."

  The doctor's smile never slipped. "That's your prerogative, of course. You can stipulate on the form that you only want them to be used for treating a specific person."

  Alex gave a short nod and began to write. The office was silent, except for the scratching of the pen nib. He rested on the low, glass-topped table. Incongruous in the centre of it was a modern, fluid-filled ornament, like a rectangular spirit-level. Inside it, pink globules drifted sinuously in a viscous-looking red liquid. When enough had gathered at one end, it slowly tilted, forcing them to float up to the other. It looked vaguely obscene. Kate wondered which reflected Dr Janson's taste the most—the antique furniture, or the disturbing ornament.