by Jane Shemilt
The sun has emerged, a hard, high ball of light between the clouds. Her eyes hurt with the low dazzle off the water. Jura draws closer. They are at that precise distance when the smooth grey beach becomes individual pebbles, the green of the hill turns into grass and trees and heather. The risks are very clear. Guilt is tying Albie to Ted; it could create a bond tighter than affection, more lasting. She might get pushed away, pushed out.
‘It’s your house, Albie. We can clean the attic rooms for the boys. Is Sophie coming?’
‘Our house.’ His expression softens. ‘Sophie’s staying behind to organise the wedding, but Ed is bringing Jake along. Ted’s fond of him. I should have known you wouldn’t mind.’
She does mind though, she minds about Jake especially. His eyes had been very watchful, but some battles are only worth fighting if you know you can win.
They climb back into the car as the boat pulls into Feolin, a simple dock with a low brick building and a shelter, a couple of waiting lorries. They drive off the ferry, bumping across metal plates, and follow the other cars, which speed down the road and vanish as if swallowed up into the island. At Craighouse, Albie disappears into the shop, leaving her in the car. She lowers the window. The smell of whisky is as strong as ever, but the village is quiet; no one is about. The silence feels oppressive. When Albie emerges from the shop he is talking to a bearded man in tweed who waves cheerily as he walks away.
‘The new doctor.’ Albie puts shopping bags in the back of the car. ‘Seems nice.’
They drive out of Craighouse, passing Lowlandman’s Bay, then the bungalows at Lagg. Albie has lapsed into silence again. No one else comes from the opposite direction, June is early for visitors. The house smells stale when they arrive; despite the heat outside, the rooms feel cold, a little damp. Albie forgot to let Iona know they were coming; there are mouse droppings by the kettle and cobwebs on the window frames. Later Albie walks round the garden on his own in the dark.
The next morning, Beth leans from the window. The day is already warm. The garden has grown wild in their absence, the grass turned to hay. Her silver birch trees are taller, cow parsley foams at the base of their white trunks. The sea is as blue as she remembers, but swimming with Albie after breakfast, she feels frightened again. The pull of the waves seems stronger than before, the water colder. Afterwards they lie in a hollow in the springy grass on the cliffs above the beach, their bodies absorbing the warmth.
‘I thought it would feel better here, but it’s worse,’ Albie mutters. ‘I associate this place with happiness but that’s all gone. The sea and the wind are forces for good; it makes what happened even worse.’ His voice fades to a whisper. ‘I can hardly remember why I did it now.’
The mountains gleam darkly in the distance; the shrivelled trees at the back of the beach look beaten by the wind. The waves crash against rock, retreat and crash again; the forces here feel hostile rather than good. She moves closer to his warmth, propping herself on an elbow to look at him.
‘You took a risk, Albie. You couldn’t know Viromex would fail to repeat the trials. It didn’t work but it might have done.’ He glances at her and she continues. ‘You learn, you move forward, you will succeed and other children will benefit in their hundreds.’
She is leaving out the rules he broke and the part she played. All the same, he nods and closes his eyes, seeming to accept what she says.
The sun is hotter the next day, far hotter than is usual for June on the island. The air seems swollen with moisture. Clouds form at the horizon but dissipate by midday. They eat all their meals with their backs against the warm stone of the house, tracking the light on the sea as it turns from platinum to cobalt then gold. In the garden yellow irises, harebells and geraniums are growing wild among the grass, secret things of beauty, hidden for now. In bed they lie apart, though when he sleeps she rests her hand against his back.
On the fourth day, Albie puts on a shirt, pushes his feet into sandals and vanishes without a word, returning later with bulging plastic bags. He dumps them all on the floor and disappears. Outside an engine splutters into life, then he walks past the window pushing a dented mower. Two chickens, cheese, bacon, butter and great sides of venison steaks have to be fitted into the fridge. The wine and whisky go in the pantry along with bags of potatoes and peas. The smell of diesel comes through the open kitchen window, sharpened by the scent of cut grass. Stacking jars of coffee in the cupboard she remembers the wild flowers and runs outside, but the grass is spiky under her bare feet, everything has been mown down.
The next day he is up early again, tossing rugs through the upper windows on to the grass. They strip beds and wash sheets. Beth pins them on the line in the garden where they hang unmoving in the heat. Albie cleans the salt-spattered windows while she sweeps the floors, clears dead flies from the pantry shelves and scrapes at the limescale crusting the taps.
‘I’m not sure why we’re doing this. We don’t have to impress Ted.’ They are sitting outside with their sandwiches. The air is stifling; she holds her glass of water against her neck. ‘The point of this place is the simplicity, he likes simple things.’
‘How would you know what Ted likes?’ Albie stares at the silver birches with narrowed eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t know him very well.’
How stupid to let the past slip in between them again. ‘Surely everyone’s the same as us, trying to escape from their complicated lives.’ She gets to her feet. ‘Look, those sheets should be dry enough to iron now, it’s like an oven out here.’
The pile of laundered linen grows and she stacks them by the stove. The sheets smell very fresh. She touches her tongue to one; it tastes faintly of salt. She must be careful, very careful. She won’t mention Ted again; she’ll avoid him as much as she can when he arrives.
They hear the car at six. They stand at the door; the warm air presses against her face and dries her throat, she can hardly breathe. Ted’s red Mercedes comes to a smooth halt outside the gate. Ed gets out; for the first time she sees Jenny’s symmetrical beauty in his dark blue eyes and straight brows. He turns to support an old man who emerges slowly. His face is gaunt, the eyes sunken, his hair mostly white. With a little shock she recognises Ted. He has aged years in just a few weeks; his face cracks into a smile as he sees Albie, who moves forward to greet them and lead them towards the door. Despite his appearance, it is all she can do not to shrink back as he passes in front of her, the enemy, being ushered in. Meanwhile Theo has climbed out of the back seat and waves at her as he clambers on the bonnet and stands to look at the view. His cheeks are thickly freckled, his fair hair blows back. He is wearing shorts and grinning widely. Ted must have looked like this once, years before she knew him. Jake pushes open the other door and gets out, stretching and looking about curiously; he doesn’t comment on the view.
‘Hi there.’ He approaches, his eyes searching hers, as if looking for something with which to amuse himself.
‘Welcome,’ she remembers to say, hoping her smile seems genuine.
‘Beth, this is wonderful, wonderful,’ Theo shouts. ‘Look at that sea! Come on, Jake, we have to take a dip right now.’
‘You go ahead,’ Jake calls back then turns to Beth. ‘I’ll stay with Ted.’
‘Oh, I think it’s okay, Jake.’ The longer she can keep him at bay, the better. An outsider, he might detect some nuance of the affair that has passed the family by, and if he does, he could tell Albie. She feels frightened. ‘Ed’s with his father. Go with Theo, you might enjoy a swim.’
‘Ted’s like a father to me, I’m part of the family too.’ He turns abruptly and disappears into the house; her heart sinks as she follows. Ed is drinking water at the kitchen table. He glances up when she comes in then swiftly down; colour flares in his cheeks. He’s forgotten nothing then.
Albie leans against the fridge. Ted is nowhere in sight. ‘He seems so much worse than when we saw him just a few weeks ago.’ Albie’s forehead is furrowed.
Ed looks up again,
his face miserable. ‘He went downhill fast when he was forced to resign from the lab. The GMC enquiry is in a month; he’s convinced he’ll be struck off for conducting a fraudulent trial. For a man like Dad, it couldn’t be worse. He’s been living on alcohol and Diazepam.’ There are tears at the back of Ed’s voice. ‘He’s mentioned suicide more than once.’
Albie is listening attentively; his lips tighten. He seems to feel sorry for Ed; if he harbours resentment towards him for taking over his job, he has put it aside for now.
Jake sits next to Ed, looping an arm round his friend’s shoulders. ‘Granted Ted’s tired but I thought he seemed better today; it was the way he was sitting in the car on the way here – more upright, looking out.’
Ed shrugs but doesn’t reply.
Just then, footsteps come slowly down the stairs and Ted enters the room. ‘My contribution.’ He puts a couple of bottles of whisky on the table; his voice is slurred. ‘Anyone care to join me?’ He glances straight at Beth; aware of Jake’s watching eyes, she leaves the room abruptly to find a towel for Theo.
The mood is subdued at supper. The conversation lags, everyone seems too tired to talk. Ted slumps in his chair. Ed is watching his father, but when she gets up to refill the water jug his gaze flicks to her, an assessing glance as if wondering whether the woman his father once loved will be a help or danger; a moment only but Jake catches it. Those brown and green eyes look from her to Ed and then Ted. He has picked up something already. Albie, talking to Theo, seems oblivious. She fills the jug, finds ice in the freezer and adds sprigs of mint from the box by the sink as she composes her face. She replaces the water on the table then makes her excuses; she is tired and will leave them all to chat. As she walks to the door she is conscious of Jake’s gaze following her across the kitchen.
19
Jura. Summer 2018
The crash jolts Beth from sleep. The landing window, left open in the heat, has slammed shut in a night breeze. Fastening it, she hears the murmur of voices from the kitchen. She tiptoes down the stairs barefoot, wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her. The kitchen door is ajar, she creeps close to listen.
‘… America maybe?’
‘Funding’s been withdrawn.’
‘I know you resigned from the lab, but what about the consultant job?’
‘When they found me in the hospital last week, I was practically escorted off the premises.’
‘I’m sorry, Ted.’
‘Don’t be. I found something in the lab the other night; the porter’s a friend, he let me in.’
The terror is instant. CCTV evidence after all or a missed syringe, rolled into a corner of the room? Did Albie leave a glove behind?
‘Anything helpful?’ There is fear beneath Albie’s lightly curious tone; she moves to the doorway, he will need her help.
‘Not sure yet.’ Ted’s voice is reticent. ‘It could be evidence of some kind.’
Beth slips into the room. ‘Don’t mind me, you two. I couldn’t sleep, I’ll make us a drink.’
‘Bless you.’ Ted watches her walk across the kitchen.
‘If you can tell me what you found,’ Albie leans forward, ‘we might be able to help.’
Ted stares into the fire. Albie must have lit one specially to comfort him; the nights can be chilly here, even in summer. A log falls with a soft crash. Beth slides the kettle on to the range and pours a glass of whisky.
‘It might be nothing,’ Ted mutters.
Beth bends over him, she smiles into his eyes and hands him the whisky.
‘Bless you,’ he repeats softly, staring at her, motionless, as if mesmerised. Then he drains the glass and shifts his position to pull a roll of tissue from his trouser pocket. He unrolls it carefully and tips the contents into his hand. Two small glass tubes clink together on the wide palm; each has a foil-topped rubber bung and a white label. She looks down into his hand masking dismay, conscious that behind her Albie is motionless.
‘I was told the vials Bruce used had all been destroyed, but later he remembered he hadn’t needed quite all of them. I searched everywhere: my office, the animal rooms and then I started looking in the fridge, in all the boxes on every shelf.’ He is smiling as he talks, spinning it out; a storyteller who knows his tale ends satisfactorily. She waits, sweat pricking in her armpits, her heart pounding. ‘There were hundreds of vials. I found these after three hours; I knew the batch number I was looking for, you see. They’d been put in a box with a set of chemotherapeutic agents by mistake.’
‘What’s on those labels?’ Albie asks.
‘Live attenuated varicella vaccine. Batch no 82297X,’ Ted replies without looking. He knows the numbers by heart; his voice has lifted. Jake was right, Ted is happier, he has allowed himself to hope. She suppresses a shiver.
‘I daren’t let them out of my sight so I brought them with me in a bag with some ice,’ he continues cheerfully. ‘This evening I looked at them properly for the first time. Interestingly, a corner of the foil has come away.’ He points to the top of the vial. ‘It looks as though it has been peeled back and then stuck down again. I’m convinced there’s a puncture mark in the top of the rubber bung.’
Beth bends to look at the vials. ‘I can’t see anything. Perhaps those kind of tops loosen a little in the damp of a fridge.’
‘Or perhaps they’ve been got at,’ Ted replies. ‘My porter friend searched the CCTV by the entrance of the Institute, but there were no unusual comings or goings around the time this could have happened. It’s a mystery so far.’
‘What do you plan to do?’ Albie asks.
‘Test them.’
Beth touches Albie very lightly on the back.
‘Let me get them analysed for you.’ Albie holds out his hand. ‘It might be difficult for you, given the situation.’
Ted closes his fingers round the vials. ‘I worry they could get lost in the system, things go astray so easily. Ed can take them straight to Chem. Path. when we get home.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I can’t get rid of the thought that someone was out to sabotage my work.’
‘What do the boys think about that?’ Beth asks.
‘I told Ed before supper. He thinks I’m bonkers.’
‘It does sound a little unlikely.’ Albie smiles.
Ted doesn’t reply but carefully wraps the vials in tissue again.
‘Give them to me, I’ll put them in the fridge for you,’ Beth offers. ‘They probably need to be kept cold.’
‘They might get chucked away by mistake. I’m going to find somewhere extremely safe. They could give me back my future.’ Ted looks round the kitchen. ‘I could use something better to wrap them in, though.’
Beth reaches into the bottom of the cupboard under the sink and pulls a couple of blue plastic freezer bags off a roll and some sheets of kitchen towel and hands them over.
‘Did you show these to anyone in the lab?’ she asks lightly. ‘For their advice, I mean.’
‘I phoned Bruce but no one else, I’m not sure who I can trust,’ Ted replies. ‘He wasn’t much help. I thought I’d get the contents analysed and leave any questioning to the police.’
‘I hope it works out. I’ll say goodnight, it’s very late.’ It should be easy enough to find a couple of blue plastic bags tomorrow, hidden among Ted’s things. She is halfway up the stairs when she catches Ted’s question.
‘… so beautiful. When are you two starting a family?’
She is held as though nailed to the wall.
‘That’s the thing …’ Albie’s voice is low-pitched; she presses her ear tightly to the wall. ‘It’s not happening, I’m not sure why …’ She can see the regretful twist to Albie’s mouth as clearly as if she was facing him.
‘Plenty of time,’ Ted replies, she detects complacency. Perhaps he is secretly congratulating himself, the alpha male who impregnated the female, preventing others from doing so. There isn’t time, though. He is wrong, her time ran out years ago. Anger sluices
through her, cold like the sea, her hands tingle with rage. It was Ted’s fault; he has yet to pay fully for what he’s done. She flattens her fingers against the wall. The old paint feels faintly damp and silky smooth, like skin, like a child’s skin.
The next morning, Ted sleeps in but everyone else is up early. Theo stretches in the kitchen; his large body and extended arms seem to take up all the space in the little room. He glances at the Paps through the window, where the mountains are gleaming in the early sun.
‘I’d love to climb those; anyone up for an expedition?’ Theo seems happy to have escaped the London life of a professional photographer; perhaps the trip feels like a family outing to him.
‘Great idea. I’ll tell Jake.’ Ed runs upstairs, a slice of toast crammed in his mouth.
‘I’ll come along too,’ Albie tells Theo. ‘It’s harder than you think to find the way up. We’ll need sunscreen and water, anoraks in case of a storm – they can arrive out of the blue on this island. Coming, Jake?’
Jake has entered the room; he is checking his phone. His mouth is pulled down, he looks like a sulky boy.
‘Everything okay?’ Beth asks.
‘Billy’s fretful, nothing new.’ He shrugs. ‘Not much I can do from here. Think I’ll join the climbers, I like a challenge.’
Gita might be worried or lonely. Beth finds some old water bottles in the pantry and washes out the traces of grit and two curled spiders. Jake seems focused on his own discoveries, perhaps he doesn’t understand how fragile a child’s life can be. If her baby had lived long enough to be fretful, she would never have left her, not for a second.
Albie opens the map to show Theo where they are going; he is smiling, the first time he has smiled for weeks. She registers a quick beat of happiness; they’ll be together, they can hold hands like before. As she reaches for her anorak, Albie whispers in her ear: ‘Ted is sleeping; someone needs to stay behind to keep an eye on him.’
She unlaces the boots and hangs her anorak back on the peg. Ted is in the way as she’d feared; the guilt she thought Albie might feel is already elbowing her out. She follows them to the gate to see them off. Theo’s hand waves from a window as the car disappears. The morning is already oppressive. Thunder clouds are mounting in the sky, mosquitoes dance in the air. It would be a relief if a storm breaks. She walks down to her birch trees and leans against a trunk, looking at the sky between the leaves while her thoughts race. Ted is clever; he has guessed that the vials have been tampered with, though not yet who is responsible. Once it’s established they hold saline rather than vaccine, the blame will shift. There will be an internal investigation at first. Bruce might reveal that Albie volunteered to help with his PhD one night and was on his own in the lab for hours, at a time that preceded the first inoculations. They could cross-examine Skuld. It wouldn’t be long after that; Albie would lose everything and so would she. They have no option; they have to find the vials.