Where There's Smoke (1997)

by Simon Beckett

  "It's me. Alex."

  The sound of his voice brought a rush of mixed emotions. He went on before she had time to sort them, not giving her a chance to speak.

  "Look, I've been thinking. You're right, we should stop seeing each other, but, well, the thing is, I thought it would be nice to meet one last time. Perhaps after you've been to the clinic, or something. You know, for a sort of farewell good-luck dinner."

  The words had come out in a rush. Now he stopped. When he spoke again it was more haltingly. "It seems a shame to—to just end it like this. Without, well, without saying goodbye properly."

  His voice held a note of hope. Kate found her mood had lightened.

  "Yes," she said, smiling. "I suppose it does."

  * * *

  The oak tree by the clinic's gate was bare and black. Kate passed under it and walked up the drive. The gravel, dry and bleached the last time she had been, was dark and shiny with rain. Although it was only mid-afternoon, the day was reduced to a foggy twilight. Wind tugged at her hair and chapped her cheeks, and then the automatic doors slid open to let her pass into the warmth and light of the clinic. The smiling receptionist took her name and asked her to take a seat. Kate sat by the window. Outside, the February bleakness blustered silently behind the double glazing. She unfastened her coat, already feeling the central heating dispel the chill.

  After a few minutes a young nurse, smart in a tailored pale grey and white uniform appeared and led her over to a lift. Kate had only been on the clinic's ground floor before, but the first floor seemed little different. Their feet were silent on the wide, carpeted corridor. Weeping figs and yucca plants provided a green and healthy contrast to the dead vegetation outside. Soft, piped classical music followed them from hidden speakers.

  "The residential area's down there," the nurse said, as they passed another corridor. Concealed lighting cast a gentle glow along the double row of well-spaced, limed wooden doors. It could have been a hotel.

  "The rooms are all private, obviously," the nurse added. "There's a six-month waiting list for them, but I don't suppose you'll have got as far as thinking about the birth yet."

  Kate smiled dutifully. "I think I'll get this bit over first."

  A woman in a crisp white maternity smock came towards them, the only other patient Kate had seen so far. Her stomach bulged, taut as a drum against the smock, but she was beautifully made up. She nodded in return to the nurse's hello and her glance took in Kate's damp hair, clothes and left hand. Her smile was perfunctory.

  The nurse opened a door and stood back to let Kate enter. The room was windowless and small, but not claustrophobically so. A chair stood at one side, and a small rail at the far end held a row of coat hangers. A dressing mirror was fastened to a partly open door, beyond which she could glimpse a sink and lavatory. Another door, closed, was opposite the chair.

  "You'll find a gown and paper slippers for you to change into. There's no rush. Just press the buzzer when you're ready," the nurse told her, indicating a button by the light switch, "and someone will come and get you. Okay?"

  Kate said it was. She waited until the nurse had left with a final smile, then looked around. A single white gown was hanging on the rail. She went over and touched it. It was a soft paper. She remembered how the counsellor at the other clinic had told her that there would be no need to take off her clothes. The Wynguard Clinic clearly took a different view.

  She sat on the edge of the chair. Her dislike of hospitals made her shiver. Turning, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, nervously perched with her thighs pressed together, her hands clamped between them. She stood up and began briskly to undress.

  Kate didn't hear any buzzer when she pressed the button, but one must have sounded because almost immediately the inner door was opened. The same nurse smiled at her.

  "All ready?" She moved to one side, letting Kate into the next room.

  It was bigger than the one she had changed in, but also windowless. A couch stood against the wall. Beside it was what looked like a computer console and monitor. A young woman in a white coat sat by it.

  "You've had an ultrasound scan before, haven't you?" the nurse asked. "So you know what the drill is."

  Kate nodded. She had been given a scan when she had first gone to the clinic. She lay back on the couch while the technician put a condom over the end of the scanner's probe. The nurse pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

  "I'll need a mucus sample first. So if you can move your legs apart and raise them a little, please?"

  Kate did. The clearness and texture of her vaginal mucus was another indication of whether or not she was ovulating.

  She had checked it herself that morning, along with her temperature and urine. She was as sure as she could be that she had got the timing right, but she was still anxious to have it confirmed by the clinic. After a few seconds, the nurse stepped away.

  "Okay, I'll just get this checked out."

  She left the room and the young woman took her place at the foot of the couch. She gave Kate an encouraging smile. "Right, just relax."

  That was easier said than done. Kate tried to concentrate on the black and white images on the screen. They were unintelligible to her, but the technician studied them intently as she manipulated the probe. Finally, she gave a nod of approval. Kate felt the probe being withdrawn.

  "Super. The follicle's a good nineteen millimetres. Should be ready to rupture any time, I'd say."

  The technician peeled off the condom from the probe and dropped it into a bin with her gloves. She wheeled away the scanner. "You can sit up again, if you like. Dr Janson'll be along in a few minutes."

  She went out. The piped classical music drifted on in the background without relieving the loneliness of the empty white room. Kate swung her legs off the couch. The sheet of tissue paper covering it slid around slightly on the underlying vinyl. She looked down at her feet as they dangled above the ground, ridiculous in the elasticated paper slippers. She wondered if she would have had to wear them at a less expensive clinic.

  The door opened and Dr Janson walked in. The nurse followed her. Dr Janson's grey-blonde hair was pinned up in a thick French pleat, immaculate as ever. Her white lab coat seemed incongruous over the elegant clothes she wore underneath.

  "Hello," she greeted Kate, brightly. "Everything all right?"

  "I think so, yes."

  "Good. Well, you'll be glad to know that the timing's fine. You're about to ovulate, so we can go ahead with the first treatment as planned."

  Dr Janson smiled. She was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. She looked like a model from an optician's catalogue, Kate thought.

  "Nervous?" the doctor asked. Kate nodded. "There's no need to be. You won't be able to feel very much, and it doesn't take very long. Just try to relax. Now, if you can lie back on the couch…"

  Kate lowered herself down again, positioning her legs as before. She could feel the knots of her gown digging into her bare back where they pressed against the mattress. She clenched her hands together by her sides.

  There was a snap of surgical gloves. Glancing down, Kate saw the nurse sliding a small orange plastic straw into the stainless-steel tube. She gave it to the doctor, who turned back towards the couch. A speculum was in her other hand.

  "Can you raise your legs a little more, please? That's it."

  Kate stared resolutely at the featureless ceiling. She tried to breathe slowly and steadily, but she still tensed as she felt the first touch. The metal of the speculum had been thoughtfully warmed, and there was no real discomfort. It was no different from having a smear. Even so, the knuckles of her clenched hands were white. Her heart thudded and raced.

  She concentrated on the piped music. It was familiar. She had a version herself on CD. Vivaldi. The Four Seasons—Le Quattro Stagione. She tried to remember which movement it was. "Spring"? Or "Winter"?

  At the end of the couch, Dr Janson straightened. "Right. There we go."

  Kate lif
ted her head to see the nurse step forward, holding out a stainless-steel tray. Dr Janson put the inseminator and speculum into it and smiled down at Kate. "How do you feel? All right?"

  Kate nodded. "Good. Just lie still for a few minutes, and then you can get dressed and go home."

  "So I can carry on as normal?"

  "Completely as normal. I'll see you tomorrow for the second insemination, and then that's it for this cycle. It's just a matter now of keeping your fingers crossed and waiting to see if you have a period or not. If you do, then we'll try again next month."

  She gave Kate another smile. "The nurse will bring you a cup of tea or coffee, so just relax for a few minutes. There's no rush."

  She left. The nurse asked Kate what she wanted to drink and then left also, carrying the tray containing the instruments and the doctor's latex gloves, crumpled on the gleaming metal like a beached jellyfish.

  Kate lay back on the couch. I've done it now. The thought was a silent, exultant cry, setting her down on the other side of a barrier from the fears and uncertainties of a pre-insemination existence. She felt drunk on the knowledge that she was irrevocably committed. Even if she didn't become pregnant this cycle, there was always the next. Or the one after that. She had finally made the leap. Now it was simply a matter of continuing.

  The nurse returned, carrying a china cup and saucer and a plate of biscuits. "Another five minutes and you can get dressed," she said. Kate pushed herself upright as the woman set the tea and biscuits on the table at the bottom of the couch. She turned to go, but then bent and picked up something from the floor. "Is this yours?"

  She held out the gold chain and locket Alex had bought Kate for Christmas. Kate's hand went to her throat. "I must have caught it when I was getting changed. Thanks."

  Though the chain was light, Kate felt a heaviness at its cold touch as she fastened it back around her neck. Subdued music, played on unfamiliar stringed instruments, was playing in the Thai restaurant. The dining room was dark, but each table was lit by two fat candles so that walking down the aisles between them was like being in a temple. The air smelled of burning candle wax, lemon and garlic.

  Alex was already at the table when Kate arrived. She had thought it best if they made their separate ways there, rather than share a taxi as they had in the past. The candlelight gave his face a melancholy cast as he stared into it, reminding Kate with a pang of the first night they had gone to Lucy and Jack's. Then he looked up and saw her, and she pushed the memory away.

  "Sorry I'm late," she said, as the white-jacketed waiter pulled back her chair. "The taxi didn't turn up so I had to order another."

  "That's okay." Alex smiled at her. "You look…ah, you look great."

  Her hair was up in a chignon, and she wore a plain black long-sleeved dress. The locket hung around her bare neck. "Thank you."

  They fell silent. "So -" they began at the same time, and stopped. "Sorry. You first," Kate said.

  "I was just going to ask how it went." He lowered his voice slightly. "You know, at the, er, at the clinic."

  She had finished her second insemination the day before. "Oh, okay. I've just got to wait and see what happens now."

  "Well. I hope…" Alex struggled. "Well, you know."

  She nodded. "Thanks."

  The bubble of tension around them seemed to tighten, choking any chance of conversation. Kate looked at the other tables, islands of intimacy with their burning candles. The conversations were low but animated, a murmuring counterpoint to the tinkle of cutlery. No one seemed miserable. She drew a deep breath. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

  He looked hurt. "Why?"

  "It just might have been better to leave it as it was." She shrugged. "This is only dragging things out, isn't it?"

  Alex nudged the warm wax pooled at the base of the candle with his finger. He didn't look at her. "Do you want to go?"

  "No," she said, after a moment. The waiter returned. Giving a short bow, he handed them each a menu.

  "They serve saki. Why don't you have a flask?" Kate asked, brightly.

  "Aren't you having any?"

  "I'm not drinking alcohol." She glanced at the waiter, who was waiting patiently by the table. "But don't let that stop you."

  Alex looked momentarily bewildered, then understood. "Okay." He sounded apathetic.

  They ordered, but lapsed into silence again once the waiter had gone. There was a disturbance on the other side of the restaurant, where the head waiter, distinguished by a black jacket instead of a white one, was having a controlled but heated debate with the occupants of a table hidden by a bamboo screen. Finally, with a terse nod, he strode towards the kitchen. The distraction over, Kate tried to think of something to say. "So how's work?" she asked.

  "Oh…okay, thanks."

  She cast around for another conversational gambit, but they all skittered out of reach. The waiter arrived with a truncated flask of saki and a bottle of mineral water. He filled their glasses and withdrew.

  "Well. Cheers," Kate said, raising hers. The bubbles from the water tickled her tongue. She noticed that Alex hadn't drunk from his glass.

  "Look, Kate…" he began, slowly, and she stiffened at the seriousness of his tone. "I, er…" He swallowed. "I just wanted to say…I'm glad…uh, glad it was me." He broke off, his voice husky, and looked away quickly.

  Kate felt her eyes sting. But she was saved from having to respond by the return of the waiter. He put a metal warming tray in the centre of their table, and lit the four alcohol lamps inside with a taper he first held in a candle flame. Another waiter appeared and set out a series of small steaming bowls on top of the tray. They bowed again and left.

  "Smells delicious," Kate said. Her appetite had vanished.

  Avoiding each other's eyes, they served themselves with portions of rice and subtly scented meat and vegetables.

  They both reached at the same time for the small bowl of satay sauce. Kate smiled and motioned for Alex to take it first, and as she did there was another commotion from the other side of the restaurant.

  The head waiter was standing beside the screened table again. This time he was shaking his head, emphatically, talking in a low but firm tone against the more strident voice that was raised against him. Kate couldn't make out what either was saying, but the hidden speaker grew louder and more angry, and there was just time to register that the man's voice was familiar when there was the scrape of chairs being pushed back.

  The screen shook as the couple who had been sitting behind it stood up. The girl was heavily made up, large-breasted and drunk. The man with her had his back to Kate but then he turned, and she felt the shock of recognition as she saw his profile. She ducked her head, stared down at her plate.

  "Kate? What's the matter?" Alex asked. She shook her head without looking up. The exit was behind her, she realised, sickly. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded. Now she could hear them approaching, his heavier footsteps chased by the staccato tap of the girl's heels. She lifted her chopsticks, made a show of interest in the food. The footsteps stopped by their table.

  "Well, fancy seeing you here."

  She looked up. Paul had halted by the table. He had a lopsided smirk on his face as he stared down at her. The girl stood behind him, looking on with blowsy confusion.

  "Hello, Paul."

  Even in the candlelight, she could see how flushed he was. His face was bloated and puffy. He looked from her to Alex. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

  She felt surprisingly calm. "Alex, this is Paul."

  Alex gave him an uncertain smile. Paul's grin was unpleasant. "You haven't introduced us to your friend," Kate said. "Sorry, no, I haven't, have I? Forgetting my manners."

  Paul motioned with his head at the girl, who was swaying with the effort of standing still. "This is Kim. Kim, meet Kate. Kate's an 'old friend' of mine. This is Alex, her 'new friend'. So what do you do, Alex?"

  Alex glanced hesitantly at Kate. "I'm, uh, I'm a psychologi
st."

  "A psychologist!"

  Paul's voice was growing louder. Kate was aware of heads turning in their direction. "Don't tell me you're finally seeing a shrink, Kate? Or is this just a social thing? One way of getting treatment without paying for it, I suppose."

  More people were turning to look now. Kate felt a cold detachment. "You were on your way out. Don't let us keep you."

  "Yeah, I'm on my way out, all right."

  His smile was a thin mask. "Freud here doesn't know what he's letting himself in for, does he? You watch your back, mate," he said to Alex, without taking his eyes from Kate. "Little Katie here's always mixing business with pleasure. Until she's got what she wants out of you, and then boom! You're out!"

  Alex's face was pale, except for patches of colour on his cheeks. "I think you'd better g-go."

  He said it quietly, and the syncopation was barely audible, but Paul picked up on it. "You thu-think I'd buh-buh-better guh-go? Why, so you can psychoanalyse her with your dick?"

  The surrounding tables had fallen quiet. Kate saw the head waiter coming towards them. Alex clenched his fists on the table. "Ignore him," she said, but now both men were focused on each other. Alex seemed to be almost quivering.

  "G-get out!"

  Paul leaned towards him. "Fuh-fuh-fuck off."

  "Alex, no!" Kate said, reaching across to restrain him as he began to stand. He glanced at her, and while he was still half in, half out of his seat, Paul hit him.

  The punch caught him on the cheek and knocked him sideways, sending him sprawling almost full length onto the table. It tipped up, toppling Alex off in a cascade of candles, food and breaking crockery. The noise seemed to go on forever as dishes, trays and glasses crashed to the floor, and then, abruptly, it stopped.