Katie saw what he meant. There were pebbles arranged in a spiral, a lemon in a pewter dish, bowls of flowers.
“We’re not likely to meet anyone we know, or maybe anyone at all,” Lyle said. “And besides, I’ve been wanting to have another look at those Gaudier-Brzeskas.” It was an unexpected side to Lyle: he was a keen collector of early twentieth-century prints and drawings.
And sure enough, on this grey October day they had the place pretty much to themselves.
The house was all lightness and white walls and wood. Lyle was different here, less in-your-face, less hyperactive. As they moved through the house, he stopped here and there to point out a Ben Nicholson painting or a David Jones drawing.
Katie had known Lyle since she was eighteen and he had arrived at Imperial College to deliver his daughter, Juliet, for her first term. Katie and Juliet had become best friends and Katie had spent fantastic working holidays out at the ranch in Texas.
Lyle was one of the first people she’d contacted when Michael died. He’d known Michael too and understood what a fix she was in. By the time they met at Kettle’s Yard it was looking likely that Paul would take over as her supervisor, but she didn’t know what she was going to do for lab space.
They climbed up to the first floor and stood by a little geranium-filled conservatory that overlooked a patch of lawn rimmed by trees that were shedding their leaves.
“I’m sure I can pull a few strings, Katie,” Lyle said, “and get you a bench in Honor Masterman’s lab. I happen to know they’ve got some spare capacity. It’s over near Ely, but you won’t mind that.”
“Oh, Lyle, could you? That’d be great!”
“Sure.”
Lyle tucked her arm into his and pressed it to his side. There was something of the courtly Southern gentleman about him.
“You’re doing good work, important work. I can’t see you stymied at this point in your career for want of lab space.”
They made their way through the library and down the stairs into a large white space, top lit with diffused light.
“Let’s sit down here, shall we?” Lyle gestured to a white sofa that ran almost the entire length of a wall. “It’s my favourite part of the museum.”
They sank down into it.
“I want to put something to you,” Lyle said. “Whatever you say, makes no difference. That bench in the lab is yours – as long as I can swing it. So, no strings, OK? At the same time, there are reasons why it would suit me just fine to have you in that lab.”
Katie was intrigued. “What’s this about, Lyle?”
“Honor Masterman. That’s mostly what it’s about. Look, when the chance of investing in this gene therapy for obesity came along, I won’t say I didn’t jump at the chance. The good it could do – and yes, it’s true I stand to make a bundle – ”
“Not to mention being the guy who goes down in history for making it happen.” Lyle had an ego the size of… well, Texas. A little gentle teasing didn’t go amiss.
“Well, yeah, that as well,” he acknowledged with a wry smile. “Thing is, I had mixed feelings about getting into bed with Honor – in a manner of speaking.” He sighed. “Let me tell you a little story, Katie. Long ago when I was a postdoc, when I was just a working scientist slogging it out in the lab, I knew Honor – ”
“You once actually worked in a lab?”
“Yeah, I’ve served my time at the coalface. In those days Honor and I were both young, very young.”
There were footsteps on the stairs and a middle-aged woman came into view. Lyle fell silent. She drifted round the room, looking at the paintings and sculptures, and then left the way she had come.
Lyle went on.
“We were working on different projects. For her there was a rush to get to the Patent Office – just as there was with the obesity therapy – and one of the team cut a corner or two to get there first. When it came out, she categorically denied knowing about it. I happened to know that she did. So one thing I learned about Honor: she’s the kind of person who wouldn’t think twice about lying to get out of a hole. So, yeah, she’s brilliant, but is she 100 per cent reliable? I guess I managed to put that incident to the back of my mind. It was a long time ago, and like I said, we were very young, but then… the death of that young man in the clinical trial…”
“That wasn’t their fault, though, was it?”
“No way they could have foreseen it, I admit that. She and Will Orville, her postdoc, were exonerated. But it’s niggled away at me. And now we’ve got this interference case coming up – well, I don’t want it all to blow up in my face in court. We’ve got one of the best patent lawyers in the UK going through the lab books. We should be just fine, but…”
“But that’s where I come in?”
“Truth to tell, I hardly know what it is I’m asking you to do. Maybe just keep your eyes open, get a feel for what’s going on…”
“Hey, this is exciting. You want me to go undercover,” she joked.
He acknowledged the absurdity of the idea. “Hardly. But see if you can get the measure of Will Orville. He’d talk to you in a way that he wouldn’t to me.”
That was how it had begun. Sure, it felt a bit underhand and grubby, poking about in the lab and pumping people for information, but it was interesting, too. It was almost like a game, but not just a game. The integrity of the scientific process: that wasn’t just part of her job, it was something that really mattered to her. The idea of someone cutting corners didn’t sit well with her. For all his flamboyance and his financial risk-taking, she knew that Lyle felt the same.
“Things aren’t looking good,” Lyle said now, as he picked up a prawn with his chopsticks.
The lines in his long, leathery face looked deeper, as if he hadn’t been getting enough sleep.
“You’ve heard about our lady lawyer?” he went on.
Ordinarily she’d have teased him about the “lady” bit, but she just nodded sombrely. “Will told me. And about the lab book.”
He looked at her keenly. “So he has been talking to you?”
She nodded. “He’s pretty upset about it all.”
“What a mess. Turns out I was right to have my suspicions about Honor. That woman is not running a tight ship. Take that radiation leak. How could that have happened?”
“I’ve been wondering about that. Either someone was very careless, or…”
“Honor’s lab seems to be – well, shall we say, unusually accident-prone?”
She and Lyle looked at each other. She didn’t want to put it into words. The thought that someone might have tracked that radioactivity around the lab on purpose made her go cold.
Another idea occurred to her – triggered by that term “accident-prone”. She too had been “unusually accident-prone” lately: the disaster of her western blot, the way her E.coli culture had failed. She put down her chopsticks. What if they weren’t accidents?
“You’ve thought of something?” Lyle said.
“You don’t know the half of it, Lyle.”
She told him what had happened to the E.coli culture and the western blot. “I don’t like to think that someone could have messed things up deliberately. Labs operate on a basis of trust, but…” Her voice trailed off and Lyle finished the sentence.
“But maybe there’s someone who’s not playing by the rules.”
“It’s easy to get paranoid. Most likely they were just mistakes on my part. These things happen.” She toyed with her mixed vegetables. “I wonder, though…”
“Yes?”
“About the lab book. It’ll be good news for the other firm – the one that’s claiming they got there first – if you don’t manage to find it. You don’t suppose they…”
He shook his head. “I can see why you might think that, but no, it wouldn’t occur to those guys. It wouldn’t be worth their while to take that kind of risk. Their dirty work is reserved for high-class lawyers. They’ll bend the law as far as they can, but they can’t afford
to be caught breaking it.”
When they’d finished eating, she made him an espresso – he seemed to live on the stuff – and herself a cup of tea.
“Got to be off soon.” He drained his coffee. “Driving to London tonight.” He hesitated, then said, “Katie – I don’t want you to put yourself at risk in any way.”
She stared at him. “How do you mean?”
“I’m not easy in my mind. Two people are dead. The guy in the clinical trial and our lady lawyer.”
“But they were both accidents, surely?”
“I guess so. But there’s something I haven’t told you. Jennifer was concerned about something – something that she didn’t want to talk about in the office. That’s why we agreed to meet at her house. That was the day of the accident. I waited there, but she never showed.”
“But… did she say what was wrong?”
“Nope. I have a bad feeling, a very bad feeling about this project. Wish I’d paid more attention to my intuition at the start.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Intuition! You’re supposed to be a hard-headed scientist, Lyle. Don’t tell me you believe in intuition.”
His expression was serious. “Sure I do. Now, mind you keep in touch – and watch your step. I don’t want to end up regretting that I placed you in Honor’s lab.”
As she unlocked the wheelhouse door, he said, “You know, I wish you’d think again about coming over to our side, Katie.”
It wasn’t the first time Lyle had said this. But she’d always thought of it as gamekeeper turned poacher. The bigger world of patents and drug development and money had never appealed.
“I’m a lab rat, through and through,” she said. “A lot of good work goes on in companies like mine, and we’re always looking for talented folk.”
“I know that, Lyle. And thanks, but no thanks.”
“Come here.” He hugged her.
Then he raised a hand in farewell and walked off down the tow path. She watched for a few moments as the bobbing light of his torch grew smaller.
She locked up, went down into the galley and picked up her cup of tea. She sat down on the black leather sofa in the saloon. She’d switched off her phone while they ate. She switched it on to check for messages and almost immediately it began to ring.
It was Will.
“Hi there, I’ve got a message from Honor. It’s not as bad as it might have been. It’s only a soft shutdown and it’s just our room. They might be able to squeeze some of us in elsewhere. You’re to come in first thing.”
“That’d be great. Thanks for letting me know.”
“OK then, see you tomorrow. Maybe we can fit in that drink sometime soon?”
“Yeah, cool.”
Will reminded her a little of Lyle. They weren’t similar to look at, but there was something of Lyle about his energy and his confidence. You knew that he was setting out to charm, but it still worked.
She didn’t think of Lyle’s warning until she’d hung up. She shrugged. There could surely be no danger in just going out for a drink.
Chapter Sixteen
Daniel was in his car outside Jennifer’s house waiting for Bryony to arrive. Daniel had dressed it up as conscientiousness, arguing that he needed to be absolutely sure the lab book wasn’t there. And actually there was some truth in that. Bryony had rung that morning to let him know she had searched Jennifer’s office again and she was 100 per cent sure that it wasn’t there.
As for Harry, Daniel veered between thinking he was crazy for even entertaining the idea that Harry might be his son and being convinced that he was.
His mobile rang and it was Alison.
“An Ian Gladwill rang,” she told him. “He wants you to ring him back.”
The lab technician? What did he want? Daniel took the number and was about to ring him when there was a tap on the car window.
It was Bryony.
He got out of the car.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
They walked up the path and she let him into the house.
Things seemed different somehow. Last time it had been as if Jennifer had just left and might be back at any moment. But now there was a brooding quality to the silence. It was as if someone was there waiting for them.
Perhaps Bryony felt it too. She gave a little shiver. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “Shall we start with the study again?”
“OK.”
They went in and Daniel checked again, but it was just a matter of form. He knew the lab book wouldn’t be there.
“I was wondering,” he said. “What about the little boy’s bedroom? We didn’t really look there.”
Bryony frowned. “How would it have got in there?”
“Well, what if he took it and hid it? You know what kids are like. Or Jennifer might have hidden it.”
“Why on earth would she have done that?”
“We were burgled once, money and passports pinched, so she took to squirrelling things away, hiding them in unlikely places. The lab book – she’d have known that she shouldn’t have taken it home, not without making a copy and leaving it in the office. She wouldn’t have left it lying around.”
“OK, then.”
She headed for the stairs and he followed her.
They stood for a few moments in Harry’s room, looking around. Daniel began to look through the books in Harry’s bookcase, checking that the lab book wasn’t wedged behind them. Harry had some of the same books as Chloe: Dear Zoo, Where’s Spot?, Each Peach Pear Plum – Daniel could recite that one off by heart. The bed with its dinosaur-patterned cover was just as Harry had left it, the cover trailing on the floor. Daniel wondered if he and Nick would come back to live here. But he didn’t want to dwell on that. More to the point was finding a way to get rid of Bryony for long enough to take something with Harry’s DNA on it.
The doorbell rang. He and Bryony exchanged glances. It rang again.
“Oh, hell,” she said, making for the door. “You go on looking.”
He heard her go down the stairs and open the door, then voices.
He slipped out onto the landing and into the bathroom. He snapped on the light. There were toothbrushes in a glass on the shelf above the basin. The small one must be Harry’s. He snatched it up, switched off the light, and was back in Harry’s room just in time to hear the front door shutting. He wrapped the toothbrush in the plastic bag that he’d brought and slipped it into his inside breast pocket.
His heart was thumping. He tried to steady his breathing.
“Just that awful next-door neighbour,” Bryony said as she came into the room. “She was with her husband this time; said she saw the light on and thought she’d better check. I think she’s just nosy.”
She looked around the room. “How are you getting on?”
“No luck, I’m afraid.”
He had got what he wanted and his instinct was telling him to get out while the going was good. Yet, perversely, he felt inclined to linger, to play for time. And after all, he did want the lab book, too. What have you done with it, Jennifer? he silently asked her. Give me a clue.
The silence of the house settled round them. It was disturbed by a small sound downstairs.
“Probably the heating system,” Bryony said.
He nodded.
“This must be hard on you,” she said.
“It’s been quite a while since the divorce… but yes… Can we just check the bedroom?”
“Of course we can.”
They went into Jennifer’s room.
“I’ll check the drawers,” she said.
“Fine.” He went over to a wardrobe with sliding doors that took up the whole of one wall. He opened one of the doors. The business suits and shirts were all lined up at one side. They were part of Jennifer’s working life and they had been organized as meticulously as the rest of it. How strange it was, the way inanimate things outlasted their owners. The scent of Chanel No. 5 still clung to them.
A
nd then it hit him: a wave of longing and desire. He had an almost irresistible urge to step in among the clothes, to grab them and press them to his face, holding his lost wife close in the only way he could. Only the presence of Bryony stopped him. He heard her come up behind him, but he didn’t turn round. He needed a few moments to say goodbye to Jennifer, goodbye to his younger self. He let himself think about the times they had been so close that they had finished each other’s sentences, had laughed without having to explain what was funny; the times they woke up to find they were holding hands.
Yes, it was all over, the love and hope and pain, the tenderness and the anger. Jennifer had gone.
“We’d better go,” he said, turning to Bryony.
But she wasn’t there. She was on the other side of the room, coming out of the bathroom.
His scalp crawled. Who had come up behind him? No one, he thought; just my imagination. I’m losing it.
Bryony came over and looked in the wardrobe. “She had some lovely things.”
“She always looked great.”
“I suppose all this’ll go to the Oxfam shop.”
They were silent.
“Well, I think we’re about finished here, aren’t we?” Bryony said.
He nodded. They made their way downstairs.
They were about to step out of the front door, and Bryony was reaching to switch the hall light off, when he said, “Just a minute.”
She waited with her hand on the switch.
Something was tugging at him. What was it? Something he’d seen. Something to do with those immaculate white shirts. Or was it something he hadn’t seen?
“Where’s the ironing board?” he said.
“What?”
“It was the way we divided things up. I did the supermarket shop. Jennifer always did the ironing, always – my shirts as well.”
It was how Daniel had found out that she was having an affair. Jennifer had gone away for the weekend to a reunion of old university friends – or so she’d told him. He never did find out if that was true or not. Daniel had decided to get ahead with things and do the ironing for once. He got out the ironing board and he had felt something crackling under his fingers as he opened it out. He slipped his fingers under the cover and pulled out a piece of folded paper. Curious, not suspecting for a moment what he was about to discover, he unfolded it and read it.
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