by Lynn Watson
‘Don’t worry, Alice. It’s safe with me.’
Fran raised her left forefinger to her lips and Alice replied in kind before sitting back and mussing up her streaked, multicoloured hair, which was styled to go off in all directions.
‘And now I do have to throw you out or I’ll be late for my student and he’s anxious enough already.’
At that moment, Fred Henson-Morris popped his head around the half-open door. Alice flinched, fearful that he might have caught some of their conversation.
‘Hey, Fred, we were just… I’m just dashing off to a supervision session. This is Fran – you met each other briefly at the Esther Simmons lecture.’
Fred looked sideways at Fran and she couldn’t decide if his expression was one of mild interest or suspicion. Maybe he simply didn’t remember her.
‘Yes, that’s it, hello again. I knew we’d spoken recently but I couldn’t quite place you.’ He stepped forward to shake her hand. ‘As Alice is about to abandon us, would you like to go over to the staff club for lunch with me instead?’
Her first impulse to reject his invitation quickly collided with the enticing prospect of finding out about the new research project, and perhaps about progress on cognitive enhancement more generally.
‘Okay, why not?’ This had come out too abruptly. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’ Nice and unthreatening, this was the way to go about it.
On the way to the staff club, she decided to reveal nothing about Junoco or her involvement in it. She would talk about her amusing times at Frocks and Chocs if he asked about her job but would try and keep to the subject of his research, which she imagined wouldn’t be too difficult.
In the event, she didn’t have to try at all, as he was so keen to impress her with all his major studies, academic awards and membership of committees that she had never heard of. He really was arrogant, in his eager and blustering way. The issue of whether he fancied her was less clear, as his whole look and approach was so completely unsexy, but she had the wearying feeling that he probably did.
‘What about future work, Fred? Have you any interesting big projects starting up soon?’
He fell right into it, saying that he had been appointed as an academic director of the Bright Minds programme and it was expected to break new ground in its neuroscientific aspects. She had to choose her words carefully, not wanting to ring alarm bells, but as he seemed unguarded she threw in her prime question quickly and innocently.
‘What do these brain supplements and nutrients consist of, the ones you’ll be using in the research? Are they wholly natural or are they synthetic?’
‘Ah, there’s a question. These days, it’s difficult to define “natural”. The synthetic products can be so close as to be indistinguishable and, don’t forget, natural doesn’t mean harmless, by any stretch. Think about those mushrooms we used to hear so much about – but you’re far too young to remember that.’
He had downed a glass of wine by now and was beginning to lean towards her. Five more minutes and she would have to make her escape.
‘So what is in the supplements and nutrients, then? Are they safe?’
‘You’re asking me if we do our testing and recommending properly and to high standards, to which the answer is yes. We are stringent about safety. It’s the primary concern in this type of research, whether it’s children or adults.’
Fran looked at her watch and started to gather up her things. ‘Well, it’s been fascinating talking to you but I have to get off now, Fred.’
‘Yes, I’ve got another public lecture to write this afternoon. It’s never-ending. I’ve enjoyed our little chat, thank you. And…’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, you know how it is with these things. We have to be careful not to give the wrong idea and I’ve just been talking generally to you; not about the actual project, what it entails.’
‘Yes, that’s my understanding. The details would probably go over my head anyway, and I don’t know anyone in your field – I sell frocks. Thank you, I enjoyed the chat too.’
He didn’t ask for her number, which again provoked mixed feelings. She was sure she could extract more valuable information from him, but not at the cost of possibly offending him by a personal rejection. At least she had Alice on side as a result of today’s outing, which was a fantastic coup.
She decided to walk home. It was a week before Christmas and darkness was falling by the time she got to Waterloo Bridge. She stayed there for several minutes, looking first upriver to the Houses of Parliament and then across the bridge to St Paul’s Cathedral and beyond. She had expected some signs of the approaching festive season, but the river was a swirl of muddy brown and the views were wintry in a bleak and colourless way. The piers were deserted and the passing river cruisers almost empty of passengers, their lights looking more straggly than decorative. A few tourists were taking photos of each other against the iconic skyline, and near to the parapet of the bridge she noticed a couple in a close embrace. They were dressed in smart office clothes and the woman’s feet had lifted out of her high heels, she was held so tightly by the tall man. She couldn’t see their faces but could tell at a glance that they belonged to the privileged and beautiful set, Ned’s circle and the future elite Junoco customers.
She lowered her gaze to a patch of water shimmering in a dancing white light. Perhaps Professor Fred was right and there was very little difference between natural and synthetic, in terms of possible harm. The issue was the ease with which manufacturers and suppliers could avoid regulation and sell dangerous substances, without even having to reveal who they were or where they were trading from. She had to know what was in the chocolates now, although in a way she wished she hadn’t read so assiduously on the topic. Perhaps it was part of the Junoco effect? She was too curious for her own good. Would Judi worry about this, or indeed were Vicky and Ned losing a moment’s sleep? Not a bit of it. And it was them she wanted to associate with, be friends with, now she was free and had no serious responsibilities to hold her back. It would be madness to jack it in, whatever the lab result.
She looked up and saw the young couple still in their embrace but loosening it now and staring at each other with an air of finality. The woman was the one to break away, turning and weaving at speed through the growing crowd of late-afternoon walkers until she was lost to view. The man watched her to the last second and then half-slumped, his back against the cold bridge rails, before collecting himself and walking closely past Fran, virtually touching her but unaware, his handsome features racked with emotion.
***
She arrived at the family home on the morning of Christmas Eve, as she had done for the past five Christmases during and following the split with her husband, Tim. The difference this year was the absence of Chaddy and Max, both of whom had previously joined them for at least part of the time. She had already had video calls with them, although she hoped to talk to them again on Christmas Day, if the mood was festive enough and the old folk were still speaking to each other. On the train journey she had wondered, yet again, if this would be the last year before the domestic situation fell apart through death, discord or disease. The prospect of flying to Hong Kong or San Francisco next year, or even both, was appealing but highly unrealistic under any likely scenario.
The annual tradition was now well established. Cerise ordered the tree from a local farm and their regular handyman came round with his daughter to set it up and help Cerise to decorate it. The daughter had to use every ball, bauble and ornament in the box, as ‘they all mean something to someone’. It was true that many of them dated from Fran’s childhood and brought back memories of her almost uncontainable excitement on Christmas Day. The parcels, a dwindling pile now, were usually arranged under the tree but this year they were heaped on a side table, presumably to avoid anyone having to bend down to the floor.
The four of them had a light lunch of Cerise’s home-made soup and soft bread rolls with a selection of cheeses. The moo
d was light too, much to Fran’s relief, and even Eleanor was refraining from negative comments. This gave George a chance to talk to Fran about the scientific concept behind his computer design, why it was important and how it would revolutionise space technology and interplanetary travel. As he had worked in radar and been a keen amateur astronomer all his life, she was aware there could be a genuine nugget in it. Somebody ought to write it down, collect the torn-out pages of scribbled notes and line drawings lying round his room and put them in order. Or maybe George ought to try the Junoco truffles; it might give him the necessary focus.
Cerise saw that Eleanor was getting twitchy and suggested they retire to the sitting room. Fran had brought a Junoco box with her, hoping there might be an opportune moment to offer it to at least one of her unsuspecting relatives. Although this time she would give them the usual spiel about it first, so they could make an informed choice.
Cerise opened the lid of the piano stool and took out some sheets of music. ‘Come on, George, it’s time for our recital. You go first with your ragtime and the crooners and divas repertoire and I’ll play a couple of pieces at the end.’
George set to with gusto, while his appreciative audience tapped their feet and clapped enthusiastically at the end of each popular ragtime tune. Then he took requests for the crooners and divas session and they all sang along and hummed through the bits they didn’t know the words to. It was a pleasure to see her mother in a party mood, a timely reminder that her parents had thrown lively parties in their day and Eleanor’s growing tetchiness was at least partly down to sheer boredom and frustration.
When it came to her turn, Cerise gave a beautiful rendering of three favourite classical pieces. Her playing was flawless and full of feeling, to the point that Fran was on the edge of tears. This was something to savour and to imprint on her memory. The concerts would soon be over and they would all be gone. She would get to keep the sheet music and the beautiful old piano, although she didn’t have any place for it in her new home.
‘That was wonderful, Cerise. Have you been playing again since the last time I was here, when you suddenly went back to it, do you remember?’
‘Yes, I’ve told George and Eleanor I was sleepwalking and it was the chocolates that did it, the ones you brought with you. I have to say my playing is better than it was and I can remember these pieces perfectly, which makes all the difference as I can’t read the music these days.’
Fran was encouraged by her directness and the simple and unquestioning way she had attributed her reawakened skill to the chocolates. She had to dive in quickly before the opportunity passed.
‘Well, as it happens I’ve brought some more chocolates today, in case any of you want to try them. They’re special because they make you more curious and imaginative and bring out your natural abilities, as you can see with Cerise and what she said about her piano-playing. It’s because the chocolate is almost pure and has berry seeds added, similar to blueberries.’
‘Ooh, blueberry jam, I love it. I’ll have one but I’m not sure you should, George. You’re too imaginative as it is,’ said Eleanor, teasing him affectionately for once.
‘It doesn’t actually taste of blueberries but it is delicious, an ordinary chocolate truffle but darker chocolate and more interesting. What about it, Uncle George?’
‘I’ll try anything once, especially if it’s an experiment. What have we got to lose anyway, at our age? No point in fading away quietly, lingering on.’
‘Okay then. We’ll have the first one now and the second one in an hour or so.’
It occurred to Fran that their collective willingness to take part was due not only to the liberation of old age and the love of blueberry jam but also to their trust in her. She was their rock now, and she’d better not have called it wrong.
After they had eaten the first chocolate with their coffee, they watched the big Christmas Eve film and had the second truffle halfway through it. Eleanor then went upstairs for her afternoon nap, while George fell asleep in his chair. Fran and Cerise chatted comfortably and Cerise began to reminisce about her life with Lawrence and, soon enough, her previous love life. It turned out she had been single up to her late forties and, contrary to everyone’s impression at the time, she’d had a series of discreet love affairs over a twenty-year period.
‘They weren’t married, either, not the ones that lasted. I didn’t get involved in that sort of situation, not with married men. You might think it was impossible in those days for a woman like me to have a string of love affairs and survive it but, as my mother used to say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I didn’t want to marry them either. I was much too independent for that, before I met your father. I still don’t know how he managed to win me over, creep up on me like he did, but I never regretted it. And Pansy has been the other constant companion in my life. She’s been with me fifteen years and I’ve got used to her, even though by rights she should have been flying around in the treetops all this time. I’ll miss her if she goes first.’
Fran was listening while enjoying a display of colourful, iridescent bubbles, from minuscule to enormous. And behind the bubbles, the ancient wooden ornaments and silver reindeer were starting to bob and swirl around the Christmas tree.
‘I wanted to ask you about something, Cerise. It’s personal and I haven’t talked to Eleanor about it, but I will, I do want to.’ Cerise was smiling at her fondly and Fran forced herself to continue. ‘Did Dad ever mention Marina to you, my little sister? She died when she was about two and I was three, in a road accident.’
Cerise sat upright and put both hands over her mouth, evidently shocked by the question.
‘No – he never mentioned it, not a daughter called Marina, an accident. It’s not something I’d forget. He told me other things but not that. How strange. I’m awfully sorry.’
Fran felt confused, although it was conceivable that her father would have kept it to himself, given that he’d never spoken to her about Marina either. It was Eleanor who had mentioned her, always fleetingly and in a way that permitted no questions. She heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs now, and she entered the room, holding a box in both hands. It was a family game they hadn’t played since Max and Chaddy were small. George was stirring in his armchair, Cerise stood up and the mood shifted, leaving Marina stranded again in Fran’s fragmented memory.
‘Did you have a good rest, Eleanor?’ asked Cerise. ‘I’ll go and make some tea, shall I?’
‘It was lovely, full of nice dreams. And when I woke up, I thought we should all play this quiz game. Let’s see if those chocolates really make us cleverer!’
They played the quiz and then a new version of charades that they invented on the spot, before finally retiring to bed much later than usual.
Fran fell asleep quickly and woke at five, thinking she heard a sound from down the hall. It was perhaps Cerise again, going to play the piano in her sleep. She propped herself on her elbows and listened hard, but all was quiet. Something had happened, she could sense it. She got up and reached for her big jumper, pulling it over her head and down almost to the hem of her short nightie.
As she padded softly past Pansy’s curtained cage towards the sitting room, she knew she would find the place disturbed, that there was a strange presence in the room. She slowed her step as she approached the doorway and peered in, switching on the main light as she did so. At first sight, nothing seemed out of place, but scanning the room and moving gingerly forward, she took in more detail and noticed that the spare pair of Junoco truffles she had left on the side table had been torn open; the blue and gold wrappers were in shreds and both chocolates were gone.
She stared blankly at the shiny pieces of wrapper, not knowing what to make of them, and then saw that one of the Christmas gifts was no longer on the table but lying on the carpet in the middle of the room, also ripped open. In fact, there was only the wrapping paper. The present was missing and there was a trail of paper, apparently from other
gifts, leading to the corner of the fireplace. There she discovered a pile of soft fabrics, which on closer inspection consisted of a silk scarf, a single patterned sock and a pair of suede gloves. She reached down to touch the pile and then sharply withdrew her hand when she recognised animal fur and saw a mouse lying among the clothes, stretched out and perfectly still, the light in its eye extinguished.
She stepped backwards across the room, feeling off balance and frightened by the intrusion, what it might signify. At the same time, her mind was busy piecing together the clues and coming to the inevitable conclusion. Aided by Junoco, the mouse had taken its natural curiosity, its sense of mischief and its love of chocolates and soft material to an exceptional and fatal extreme. It was a heroic failure and a cautionary tale. That was all.
Chapter 12
Alice was standing inside the gates to Hyde Park, close to the Albert Memorial where she had suggested they meet. It was a frosty January day and she had pulled down her white beanie hat and wrapped her long scarf around so many times that it obscured most of her face. Despite her nervousness, or maybe to quell it, Fran took in the stylish lace-up boots, the tailored coat and the small lines around Alice’s blue-grey eyes that were noticeable in the bright daylight. It was too cold to find the proverbial park bench where no one would be able to hear their conversation, so they walked and talked for over an hour, sharing the wide paths with joggers and young families with their balls, buggies and shiny Christmas scooters.
‘What did they find in the lab tests, Alice? I’ve been dying to know.’
‘Well, they did a first-level analysis and identified the presence of the berry seeds, although not the precise plant they come from. It could be an unknown variety of fruit bush, but the tests confirmed it was similar to the blueberry, as you said. And your suspicion about the truffles not only containing the magic seeds and chocolate seems to be correct as well. A significant amount of a synthetic drug has been added to the second chocolate, the gold-wrapped one. The gold one has more of the drug and less of the seed than the blue one, although the blue one also has small traces of the drug.’