An Air That Kills

by Christine Poulson

  She yawned and stretched, and that was when she felt it – a gripping pain low down in the small of her back. She gasped. Was she was going into labour? She steadied herself. No, no, not yet. False labour pains – that’s what this must be. She remembered them from when she was pregnant with Chloe. What were they called? Braxton Hicks contractions, that’s right.

  The baby couldn’t be coming yet.

  Could it?

  CHAPTER 8

  LONDON

  As Katie came out of Green Park underground station, the lights of the street seemed garish, the noise of the traffic assaulted her ears. She felt almost overwhelmed by the rush hour crowd hurrying and jostling as they headed for the underground and home. All these people.

  She was relieved to turn off Piccadilly into the relative quiet of Arlington Street and to reach the entrance of the Ritz hotel. The doorman called her “ma’am” and explained how to get to the Rivoli Bar.

  Expensive-looking people were checking in or having afternoon tea in the lobby. It was the poshest place Katie had ever been and she was glad she had come as Caitlin, because Caitlin was the kind of person who wouldn’t be fazed by this.

  She checked the time on her phone. She was quarter of an hour early. She didn’t want to arrive too much before Justin, so she went to look for the Ladies. It was down a steep flight of stairs. There was an attendant and little gilded chairs. She sat on one and examined herself doubtfully in the mirror.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn a dress. This was just above knee-length and frankly looked a bit like a sack. But she was certainly going to stand out from the crowd, because the top half was navy and from the top of her thighs down it was a block of solid red. She was still wearing the make-up that the woman on the cosmetics counter in Selfridges had applied for her following Vicky’s recommendation: a bright red lipstick called Russian Red, black eye-liner, and mascara. “People don’t really wear much make-up in the lab,” she had protested. Vicky had been firm: “I’ve got my instructions. You’ll wear these every day.” And Katie had to admit that, combined with the spiky blonde hair, it made her look like a different person. My own mother wouldn’t recognize me, she thought, gazing into the mirror. But, hey, this was the Ritz, and she was supposed to be dressed up, right? Right... Vicky had even chosen a scent for her: Diorissimo by Dior.

  She wondered what Justin would be wearing. It was hard to imagine him in anything other than his Antarctic gear. But presumably he wouldn’t actually be in jeans, a T-shirt, and enormous bunny boots.

  She glanced at her watch. She was a few minutes late now. It was time to go.

  * * *

  Entering the Rivoli Bar was like stepping into a luxurious cavern, all gold leaf, rich woods, and art deco decoration. The chairs were upholstered in a leopard-skin fabric. The room was dimly lit and intimate.

  The white-coated waiter enquired solicitously: “How has your day been?”

  Justin was sitting at a table for two in a corner and she saw him before he saw her. He had shaved off his beard – it was the first time she’d seen him without one – and he’d had a proper haircut. He’d scrubbed up well and he was even better looking than she had remembered. And he was wearing a really sharp suit and a fab tie. Oh, wow! Her heart fluttered and she had that going-down-in-a-lift sensation.

  “I’m meeting my friend over there,” she told the waiter.

  As she walked towards Justin she saw something vulnerable in his expression, as if perhaps he wasn’t quite sure that she was really going to come.

  He looked up and his eyes briefly met hers, then slid away, uninterested, to look past her towards the door. For a moment she was taken aback and then she understood. He hadn’t recognized her! So the makeover had worked. She registered a second thought. He wasn’t the kind of guy who automatically assessed every woman he saw, and she was glad of that.

  She stopped at his table. “Hello, Justin.”

  He stared at her. “Katie?”

  She couldn’t help laughing at the surprise on his face and the wonder in his voice.

  The waiter who had shown her to the table hastened to pull out a chair for her and she sat down. Justin was still gazing at her with his mouth open. Then he remembered himself and got to his feet and came round the table. He pulled her into a hug. He was wearing some kind of aftershave that smelt of limes. That was new too.

  They pulled back. He said, “You smell gorgeous, and you look – well, wow! Sorry about my reaction; it was just that, well –”

  “I know. Not quite what you were expecting. I don’t normally look like this even when I’ve dressed up for a special occasion. I’m kind of... in disguise.”

  “In disguise! I can’t wait to hear about it. But first, let’s order a drink, shall we?”

  Perusing the extensive list of cocktails and ordering their drinks and canapés occupied them for the first ten minutes. Katie chose a champagne cocktail and Justin chose something with a fancy name that was basically a dry martini, and then they talked about the others who had shared winter with them on the base, where they were and what they were doing. A reunion was planned for the following year – and a wedding too. Katie and Justin weren’t the only ones to have fallen in love during that long Antarctic night.

  Had they fallen in love? Katie asked herself. Perhaps they were really just mates whose attraction to one another owed more to being thrown together than to any real compatibility. After all, for most of the time she had been the only woman on the base. It was hardly surprising that she’d been the focus of male attention.

  A silence fell.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake, meeting like this. It would have been better to meet somewhere low-key, a Cambridge pub maybe. She began to feel self-conscious, all dressed up like this, and it really felt as though this was a proper date between two people who hardly knew each other. And there was something else. Without his beard, Justin was so good-looking – the kind of guy who’d usually be way out of her league, but in any case not the type that she tended to go for. She remembered that her private name for him when she’d first met him on the base had been Surfer Dude because he’d had longish blonde hair and broad shoulders. Did they really have that much in common with each other?

  Their drinks and canapés arrived, and they toasted one another. Their eyes met and Katie was the first to look away.

  Justin said, “I haven’t adjusted yet to living in a world with money. I keep paying for things with a twenty pound note and then wandering off without the change.”

  “I know. Me too.” She told him that it had been almost frightening getting on the tube with all those people.

  “It’s only temporary,” he said. “It’ll wear off in a few months. But something will remain of it. It was such a unique experience.”

  “You can take the girl out of Antarctica, but you can’t take Antarctica out of the girl?”

  “It’s true, isn’t it? It’ll always be in us now, won’t it?” he said.

  “Will you ever go back?”

  He thought about that. “I can imagine wanting to one day. I’ll feel drawn back, I’m sure. There was a poem that we read at school: W. B. Yeats, ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’. I looked it up when I got home. It went something like this:

  I will arise and go now, for always night and day

  I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

  While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

  I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”

  “‘The deep heart’s core’,” she repeated. “Yes, that’s wonderful.”

  For a few moments neither of them spoke, united by their shared memories.

  “What’s your plan now?” he asked. “Does it have something to do with all this?” He made a gesture that took in her clothes and hair and make-up.

  She hesitated. She’d said she would explain. She had been told not to tell people where she was going. But this was Justin. In Antarctica they’d both bee
n tested to the limit. If she couldn’t trust him after all they’d been through together, who could she trust? And how was she going to explain her absence if she didn’t tell him?

  He was looking expectantly at her.

  She took the plunge and told him about going undercover. When she mentioned Debussy Point and Devon, she saw disappointment in his face.

  He said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be too far from Cambridge.”

  “It’s not going to be for long,” she said, glad that he minded. “No more than a few weeks, probably, or a couple of months at the most. Only as long as it takes me to find out what’s going on, and probably nothing’s going on.”

  “What exactly is this research that they’re doing? Explain it to me in words of one syllable.”

  “OK.” Katie thought about it. “We’ve got the genome, or total genetic make-up, of our avian flu virus, basically one long strand of what’s called RNA – as distinct from DNA.” She looked at him to see if he understood and he nodded. “OK, well, in order to reproduce, the virus has to latch on to a cell in the host creature and insert its genome. The viral genome then commandeers the cell’s normal metabolism. It can then make loads of copies of itself and package them up into new baby viruses.”

  “Yes, I understand that. It takes over the cell to make copies of itself.”

  “That’s right, and then the copies burst out of the cell and take over more cells and eventually colonize the body of the host, in this case a bird.”

  “And what is it that this researcher says she’s done?”

  “She claims she’s managed to manipulate the genome of the virus so that it can meld with the outer wall of a human cell. In other words, she has discovered a mechanism by which it can jump the species barrier.”

  “Wow. Is that... well, isn’t that a bit dangerous?” He looked concerned.

  “It is. That’s why the work takes place in a Cat 3 lab. Security is really tight.”

  “Before you go on, let’s order another cocktail,” Justin said. “Same again? And maybe we’d better have something more substantial to soak up the alcohol.”

  “Let’s go for smoked salmon sandwiches.”

  He summoned the waiter and ordered. As he handed the menu to the waiter she saw the scar on his hand, the result of a serious burn that he had received on the base.

  When the waiter had gone, she reached for his hand to have a look.

  “It’s healed well,” she remarked, tracing the scar with her finger.

  “Thanks to you,” he said. His fingers closed around hers and he clasped her hand.

  He looked into her eyes.

  And that was when she knew. This was so not a mistake. On the base she hadn’t been sure she was falling in love with Justin. She was sure now. And she could see it in his eyes that he felt the same way. Her head was swimming and it wasn’t just the cocktail. Was he about to kiss her, right here in the middle of the Ritz?

  He said, “I could...”

  “Yes?”

  “I could see if I can book a room.”

  Her phone, lying beside her glass, buzzed. She couldn’t help glancing at it – an automatic response – and a text flashed into view: “Have gone into labour.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “It’s my friend Rachel. You know – I told you about her on the base. She asked me to be her birthing partner. The baby’s not due for another fortnight, but she’s gone into labour.”

  “You’ve got to go; of course you have!”

  “Oh, Justin, I’m so sorry.”

  He started to laugh. “No, no, don’t be silly. This’ll keep, won’t it? We’ve waited so long, we can wait a bit longer.”

  She had never liked him more than she did at that moment. “Of course,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “OK,” he said. “You let Rachel know you’re on your way. I’ll pay the bill.” He got up from the table and headed for the bar.

  When she tried Rachel’s phone, it went to voicemail, and the same happened when she tried Daniel’s number. She sent a text instead and looked round for Justin. He was returning to their table, putting his wallet away as he came.

  “OK?” he asked.

  “No! I’m getting her voicemail – and Daniel’s too.”

  “No time to lose then. Let’s get you a taxi.”

  “But Justin, she’s in Cambridge!”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, fine, like I said, I’ll get you a taxi.”

  Was that the best way? What about the train? She reckoned it up in her head – the tube to King’s Cross, the train, a taxi at the other end.

  Justin had already got there. “It’ll be quicker than public transport. Could be as little as an hour and a half at this time in the evening. I’ll get the doorman to rustle up a taxi. You go on trying to get hold of your friend. Do you need the loo before you head off?”

  Katie did and she was on her way back when the phone rang and she thought, Rachel!

  “Katie? It’s Lyle. Something’s happened.”

  For a moment she thought he was talking about Rachel. But he went on, “I need you to get down to Debussy Point straightaway.”

  “What?” Her voice came out in a squeak. “But we said early February. The woman who’s there now – she’s working out her notice, isn’t she?”

  “Not any more.” Lyle’s voice was grim. “There’s been an almighty bust-up and she’s walked out. Apparently her parting shot was, ‘I’d rather roll naked on broken glass than spend another day in this place.’ There’s something very wrong there and I need you to saddle up and get down there – right away!”

  “OK, OK, just let me think,” Katie said, trying to get her brain into gear. The alcohol wasn’t helping. “I’m just on my way to Cambridge to be Rachel’s birthing partner. So –”

  “You mean the kid’s on the way? Great news! Well, lucky that today’s Thursday. That’ll give you time to do your stuff and still get to Debussy Point for Sunday evening.”

  “But Lyle, what about my work experience in a Cat 3 lab?”

  “Oh yeah. We’ll have to squeeze in a few hours somewhere. I’ll get back to you about that.”

  “And what about the interview?”

  “We can dispense with that. Every day without a technician is a day that the research is held up. They’ll be only too glad that I’ve found someone who can parachute in at such short notice. No one’ll be inclined to ask too many questions.”

  And what about the briefing sessions with Julia? she wanted to say. And what about...

  But he was still talking. “OK, that’s settled. I’ll let Caspar know that you’ll be arriving Sunday evening to start work on Monday morning. I’ll be in touch again in the morning. Give my love to Rachel. Bye now!”

  “Lyle!” But it was no good. He’d gone.

  Immediately, the phone rang again and this time it was Rachel. They were in Daniel’s car on the way to the Rosie Maternity Hospital.

  “Where exactly are you?” Katie asked.

  “We’ve just left Ely.”

  “What about Chloe?”

  “We’ve had to fall back on Plan B. We’ve dropped her off at her friend’s house.”

  “How fast are the contractions coming?”

  “About twenty minutes apart. So I’m still at a pretty early stage. But because of what happened last time, they want to monitor me.”

  “Rachel, I’ll be there as fast as I can, but I’m in London.”

  “How long do you think?”

  “Maybe a couple of hours?”

  “Should be fine – hopefully. Oww, oww, having another contraction. Better go.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  “I will.”

  Katie hurried to the entrance. A black cab was waiting and Justin was conferring with the driver. He turned as Katie came up. “He’ll take you for £120. I’ve explained the situation. And he’s checked – there are no major hold-ups en route.”

  “Fine. What are
you going to do?”

  He hesitated. “I rather thought I’d come with you. I mean, I’ve got to get back to Cambridge somehow.”

  “I’d love that.”

  Justin opened the door for her. She climbed into the back and Justin got in after her. She noticed that he had a carrier bag. She hadn’t seen it earlier and she wondered what was in it.

  “I’m sorry to have wrecked the evening,” she said.

  “You absolutely haven’t. This is the most exciting date I’ve had in a very long time.” Justin settled back in his seat.

  The taxi set off and the lights of the West End slid past them. It was only eight o’clock and the pavements were crowded with people doing late night shopping and coming out of offices.

  Katie thought of poor Daniel and how he would be feeling. As for Rachel, she was probably worrying more about him than about herself. She wished she could just be magically transported to the Rosie.

  “I hope to goodness I arrive before the baby,” she said.

  “Sitting on the edge of your seat and sighing every time we stop at a red light won’t get you there any faster,” Justin pointed out.

  “Oh, was I? I hadn’t realized.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. Try to relax.”

  He was right, of course. She leaned back in her seat and he put his arm around her.

  The taxi headed east through the city. She would always remember this, she thought; the dash to Cambridge and being borne along through the night in the warmth of the cab with Justin’s arm around her. She put her head on his shoulder.

  Then her stomach rumbled and a less romantic thought impinged.

  “I’m absolutely starving,” she said. “What a pity we never got to eat those smoked salmon sandwiches.”

  “Ah, yes, the sandwiches. I thought you might feel that way.” Justin disengaged himself and delved into the carrier bag at his feet. He brought out a neat cardboard box. “Once I explained it all – first date, your best friend giving birth, emergency dash to Cambridge – the waiters were charmed and couldn’t do enough for us. And they gave me this too,” he added, bringing a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses out of the bag. “I’ve promised to let them know whether it’s a boy or a girl.”