She was about to go and get dressed when there was a knock on the glass doors. Rachel and Chloe were standing outside.
She hurried to let them in.
“Katie, are you alright?” Rachel said. “I heard on the news about the lab.”
“Come in, come in.”
Rachel ushered Chloe in. The little girl was wearing a pink sou’wester as well as her pink wellies and raincoat.
“Hello, Katie,” she said, beaming up at her. “I do hope you are well,” she added with quaint formality.
“Hello, sweetie. Rachel – I’ve just made some coffee. It’ll still be hot. Come through to the galley. What would you like, Chloe?”
“Well, if you’re sure. Chloe’s just had some hot chocolate at home, but I’d love some coffee.” She unwound the scarf from round her neck and plucked Chloe’s hat off her head. “Take your wellies off, love.”
The wellies were kicked off with a clatter. Just the presence of Chloe, her guileless face and her overflowing energy, had changed the feel of the day. It was as though a fresh spring breeze was wafting through the boat. Katie couldn’t help smiling.
Chloe took a small stuffed duck out of Rachel’s bag. “I’m going to put Quack-Quack to bed,” she announced, and skipped off down the corridor to her old bedroom.
Katie and Rachel exchanged a glance of woman-to-woman complicity.
“She really is gorgeous,” Katie said. “I could eat her up.”
Rachel’s face brightened. “She’s wonderful. I didn’t know I’d enjoy being a mother so much. But Katie, tell me what’s going on. What’s going to happen about your work?”
Katie poured out a mug of coffee for Rachel. “Yeah, that’s the question. Or one of them.” She didn’t want to tell Rachel about Ian. After all, they hadn’t got to the bottom of it yet and she was still hoping it would somehow turn out that he wasn’t to blame. “It was the lab next to ours – I don’t know how much can be rescued from what I was doing. I’m fine myself, thank goodness. Malcolm insisted that I stayed downstairs – ”
Rachel’s eyes widened. Her hand shot to her mouth. “You mean, you were actually there? Oh my goodness! And here’s me worrying about the research!”
“Don’t give it a second thought. I’ve been worried about it too – even before the explosion.”
They went back into the saloon and sat down. Katie told Rachel about the problems with the western blot. Rachel listened intently. It was a relief to talk about it, Katie realized.
When Katie had finished, Rachel said, “It’s funny. I’d imagined things would be, I don’t know, more clear-cut than that. That once something has worked, it’ll always work.”
“I wish,” Katie sighed. “You have to be able to replicate your results, show that it wasn’t a one-off, a fluke. And I haven’t been able to do that. Sometimes, like now, experiments that should work, don’t, and you don’t know why. You can start to doubt yourself, even though you know it happens to everybody.”
“Stick with it. It’s worth it, it really is. I’ve got to take Chloe for her blood transfusion in a couple of days. I can’t tell you how wonderful it would be if one day I didn’t have to do that. And that reminds me, I’d better go and see what she’s up to.”
While she was gone, Katie wondered why Rachel hadn’t had another baby, who might have been a match for Chloe. They could have gone for embryo selection. But she didn’t know Rachel well enough to ask.
Rachel came back with Chloe dancing along behind her.
“I’ve put Quack-Quack to bed now, so we can go home and have lunch,” she told Katie. She turned to Rachel. “But can Katie come too, please? Is she allowed?”
“Of course she is. We really ought to be getting home,” said Rachel. “But Katie, you’re very welcome to come for lunch.”
“I can’t, I’m afraid. I’m expecting the police to come round and interview me about last night.”
Chloe’s face fell and she made a moue of disappointment.
Rachel was looking around for Chloe’s wellies. As she picked them up, she said, “I don’t like the idea of you being here on your own after a shock like that. Is there anywhere you could go for a day or two – your parents’, maybe?”
Katie laughed. “It’s just my mum and she’s visiting my brother and his family in Shanghai. I’m not telling her until she gets back. The police offered to ring her but I wouldn’t let them. She’d be on the next flight home.”
“But still… I know: why don’t you come for supper? Just pot luck…”
“Yes!” shouted Chloe. “Katie’s coming for supper!”
Katie hesitated, but Rachel’s “Yes, do come, we’d love it” seemed warm and genuine. Perhaps it would be nice to be looked after a little bit. Then Chloe laced her fingers round Katie’s arm and, looking down at her imploring face, Katie was lost.
“Well, if you’re sure,” she said.
“We’ll see you at six thirty,” Rachel said, planting the pink sou’wester on Chloe’s head.
Chapter Nineteen
Daniel arrived home to find Rachel standing with her back to him at the kitchen sink, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Oh no, she had somehow found out about Harry. But how? No, that surely wasn’t possible. So what…
“Rachel?”
She turned and he saw that actually she was laughing.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “How was your day?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. What’s going on?”
“It’s Chloe. She’s just told me what she wants for Christmas.”
He put his briefcase down on a chair. “And?”
“She wants a pair of wings.”
“But she’s got a pair of wings.”
“No, real wings. She wants a pair of real wings. And a magic wand that works.”
Their eyes met and they burst out laughing.
“Well, who wouldn’t?” Daniel said. “What’s she doing now?”
“Watching Waybuloo on CBeebies. It finishes at twenty past. Cup of tea? Or…” She raised her eyebrows in enquiry.
“Or, please.”
“Gin it is, then. Bad day?” She opened a cupboard and got out a bottle of gin.
He took a couple of tins of tonic out of the fridge. Rachel sliced a lemon, and its sharp perfume made his mouth water.
“Actually, a pretty good day on the face of it. It’s beginning to look as if the lab book bears out Calliope’s claims. I’m hopeful we’ll find that Will and Honor were first in the field. And that reminds me – I’ll be flying over to the States next week to disclose the documents to the other side.”
“But? I’m hearing a ‘but’.”
“Yeah, there is, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“All the same, something’s bothering you.” She passed him the drink.
He took a sip and sighed with pleasure. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.”
“Something about the lab book?”
He shrugged. “Not really. It seems absolutely fine.” He hesitated, reluctant to mention Jennifer and the way he had found the book. He hadn’t told her that he had been to the house. She might not like it, and what was the point of upsetting her needlessly? He’d let her think the lab book had come to light in Jennifer’s office, though he hadn’t actually said so. And he didn’t want to spoil her good mood now. “Maybe it’s all this other stuff that’s been going on in the lab.”
Rachel cradled her glass. “Katie was actually there when there was that explosion. She could have been badly hurt. You didn’t mind me inviting her over?”
“No, of course I don’t mind.”
“Have you brought the lab book home? Can I see?”
They went through into the sitting room. He got the lab book out of his briefcase and handed it to her. “Needless to say, the first thing I did when I got into the office was to make several copies.”
They sat down together on the sofa. Rachel turned over the pages.
“Where did you say you found it at last?”<
br />
He hesitated. “I didn’t, but her secretary found it stuffed behind the ironing board at Jennifer’s house.”
He saw a question forming in her eyes. If she asked him whether he’d been to the house, he wouldn’t lie. But all she said was, “How funny. I wonder why she put it there. I’d better get on with the dinner.”
She got up and went back to the kitchen. He went on sitting there, idly turning over the pages of the lab book. He wondered why he had felt uneasy. There really wasn’t anything wrong, so why was he worrying?
Rachel called from the kitchen. “Katie’ll be here soon and Chloe needs her bath.”
“OK, I’m on the case.”
He closed the lab book, resolving to put his doubts behind him.
Katie made her way along Quayside past the Maltings.
A movement in the shadows made her jump. Orlando appeared and ran towards her with a little chirrup. He twined himself around her legs. She bent down and picked him up. He didn’t struggle, but reared up against her chest and pushed his face against her chin. Even through her coat she felt the vibration of his purr.
“Who’s a gorgeous boy?” she asked him, and the purr picked up speed.
She stroked his head and gently put him down. She walked on and he trotted at her side.
She reached Rachel’s door. As soon as it opened, Orlando slipped inside.
Rachel smiled. “Did he come along with you? He’s a soppy old thing. Here, let me take your coat. Dan’s upstairs bathing Chloe – I’m letting her stay up for supper with us – and I’m busy with the veg, so can I get you a gin and tonic and settle you here in the sitting room?”
“You certainly can,” Katie said, sinking gratefully onto the sofa.
Rachel brought her the drink and a little dish of olives.
Katie settled back with a sigh. A weight slid off her shoulders. It was such a luxury to be sitting here in the warm with a drink and the prospect of a meal that had been cooked by someone else. She was glad not to be alone this evening. Half the time she felt like curling into a ball and falling asleep; the rest of the time she felt super-sensitive: sounds were louder than usual, colours brighter. She must still be suffering from shock.
A copy of the Cambridge Evening News lay on the coffee table in front of her, but for now she was happy just to sit there admiring the taste which had produced this room with its terracotta tiles, its blue and red kilim, and the wood-burning stove that was a larger version of the one on the boat.
After a few minutes she did reach for the newspaper – and there, underneath it, was a lab book with Will’s name on it. Was this the one that had been missing? She looked at the date. Around two years ago; yes, that seemed about right. Daniel must have brought it home to work on.
She looked around and listened. Rachel was still busy in the kitchen. Katie could hear her humming to herself. From upstairs came sounds of laughter and splashing. She pulled the lab book to her and began to leaf through it. She read the odd page here and there, and began to get a sense of Will’s style. Everyone had a slightly different way of going about things. Will’s handwriting was flamboyant, there were lots of scribbled calculations. Of course, there was no way she would be able to tell if the claim to be first with the discovery was valid. That would be for Daniel to establish. She reached the end. Something had snagged her attention, but she wasn’t sure what. Slowly she turned back the pages.
The sounds from upstairs grew louder – the bathroom door must have been opened. She slipped the lab book back onto the table. She half-covered it with the newspaper, so that it would look as if it hadn’t been disturbed.
She picked up her drink, stood up, and sauntered into the kitchen.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked.
Rachel looked up from chopping parsley. “Not really – but you can keep me company.”
“What a glorious smell!”
“Beef casserole. The recipe’s from Elizabeth David.” She gestured towards a book lying on the counter beside her. “It was my mother’s cookbook, and it’s still one of the first places I look when I’m craving a bit of comfort food.”
Katie pulled the book towards her and turned the pages of the battered volume. In the margins were scribbled notes about substitute ingredients or simply recommendations: “v. good”, “excellent”. It was a book that had been worked hard over the years. Little greasy circles of fat, wine stains, spots of tomato sauce that had faded to orange bore testimony to that…
At that moment she realized what was odd about that lab book.
“Katie! Katie!”
Chloe, dressed in pink pyjamas, was heading for her. Katie put the book aside just in time, and held out her arms for Chloe to run into them.
Chapter Twenty
Rachel wouldn’t have dreamed of opening something addressed just to Daniel, even if it was her father-in-law’s handwriting. But the letter was addressed to her as well.
It was Monday morning and she was in her studio. In a hurry to get out with Chloe that morning, she’d stuffed the letter in her pocket. She used a putty knife to open the envelope, and a photograph slid out. It was a picture of a small boy on a beach, bucket in one hand, spade in the other. She could tell by the colour register and the way that it had faded that it dated from the seventies or earlier. She turned it over. “Daniel. Cromer. 1975” was written on the back in pencil.
There was a letter in the envelope and a £20 note folded inside it. The letter read, “Dear Dan and Rachel, hope this is what you need for Chloe’s project. Use the money to buy something for my lovely granddaughter. Give her a hug and a kiss from me. Looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas. Love, Ron.”
She smiled. There couldn’t be a better father-in-law. She was lucky there, and Chloe was the apple of his eye. But what was this about Chloe’s project? Ron must have misunderstood something she’d said. Or something Dan had said. He did get the wrong end of the stick sometimes.
She looked at the photo again. The shape of the face, the set of the eyes: yes, she could see the adult Dan in this little boy. And though Chloe was so much like Rachel – had her colouring and Rachel’s blue eyes – she could see Chloe here, too. Something about the expression, so single-minded and serious… Was it something she had inherited from Dan, or did it come simply from imitating him? Or a bit of both? How mysterious it was, this mingling of chromosomes, and that familiar thought led to another: how easily Chloe could have received a different genetic inheritance, one that didn’t contain DBA. But then she wouldn’t be Chloe.
She ought to get to work on the angels. She slid the photo and the letter back into the envelope and put them in her bag. She could ask Daniel about it later.
She switched on Radio 3 and straightaway recognized Bach’s first Brandenburg Concerto, the second movement. There was a plaintive air to it, yet there was an assurance too, a confidence in a divine order that was expressed in the entwined harmonies of the music. It was one of her favourite pieces of music, dating from around the same time as her baroque angels. They could be playing it on those trumpets of theirs.
She had finished making the missing trumpet during her last session in the studio. She examined it now, comparing it to the one she had copied. Yes, it was fine; more than fine – it was one of the best things she’d ever done. She got out her book of gold leaf and her gilder’s tip, the brush that she used to lay the leaves on the wood. She settled down to gild the trumpet and time disappeared. The music flowed on and it was as if her own thoughts were reordering themselves, growing calmer and more composed. The trouble over Jennifer would pass as all things passed. In a week or two, Daniel’s work on Jennifer’s case would be over and they could begin to put it behind them.
She finished at twelve. Chloe stayed for lunch at nursery on Mondays, and Rachel treated herself to lunch out. Sometimes Daniel got away from work to join her, but usually not, and that was fine. She had lived alone for a long time before she became a wife and mother. She wouldn’t want
to return to her single life, but still she relished these little islands of solitude.
She walked over to the cathedral. The rain had cleared away and it was a bright, invigorating autumn day. The leaves of the lime trees that fringed the cathedral green were golden in the sunlight.
In the cathedral café it was warm and steamy. She got her soup and settled herself down at a table. Someone had left a newspaper there – a tabloid – not the kind she’d buy herself. There was a headline: “Husband arrested for leaving death car”. She had to look twice before she realized that it was about Jennifer. She pushed her soup to one side and read the article. Jennifer’s husband, Nick Blunt, was suspected of being in the car at the time of the accident and of leaving the scene. How terrible…
Underneath was a photograph of a grim-faced man holding a little boy by the hand. They were facing the camera but seemed unaware that they were being photographed. The definition was poor too. A telephoto lens, no doubt. It was outrageous that they were allowed to do this, to exploit the suffering of a child. She put the newspaper in her bag. Dan would want to see this.
Back at home, she went into his study to put the newspaper on his desk. She looked at the photo of Harry again. The little face was serious and dignified. She wondered if there was something familiar about that expression.
She fumbled in her bag for the letter from Ron and got out the photograph of Daniel. She laid it next to the newspaper photo.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She knew now why Daniel had asked Ron to send him the photo, and it had nothing to do with a project at Chloe’s nursery.
Chapter Twenty-One
Amazingly the PCR had worked in spite of the explosion. Maybe things were taking a turn for the better. There had been some minor damage to their lab that needed sorting, so Katie was now working at her third bench in little over a week, but at least she had a bench. It was in the other wing of the lab and its usual occupant was away on holiday for a fortnight. She was impressed by the speed and efficiency with which Honor – or Honor’s secretary – had managed to sort out temporary berths.
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