“My mother too, actually,” he went on. “Mum was among the first women to be ordained. But Dad’s the one who’s keen on church architecture. Can’t remember when I didn’t know my decorated Gothic from my perpendicular.”
“And do you... are you...” She wasn’t sure how to put it. “Do you go to church?” she ended lamely.
“When I’m at my parents’, and I sometimes go to evensong at King’s College Chapel.”
They reached the entrance to the chapter house and went inside. It was empty except for two men standing at the far side. Katie gazed up at the ornate ribbed vault, fanning out from its central column like a great palm tree. Justin moved round so that he was standing between her and the two men.
He said, “Don’t look now, but someone keeps looking at you and looking away, as if he’s not sure whether he knows you.”
“What does he look like?”
“Hipster type. Short hair and big beard. He’s looking away now.”
She stole a glance over Justin’s shoulder. The faces of the two were in profile against the light, and one of them was Tarquin’s.
She turned round immediately and tugged Justin’s hand. “We’ve got to go,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Tell you later. Come on!”
He followed her out. Once they were out of sight round the curve of the staircase, she said in a low voice, “One of those men was Tarquin. You know, I told you about him – the malaria guy at Debussy Point. Do you think he did recognize me?”
“Hard to say. You do look different without your Caitlin make-up.”
“That’s true. But we’d better go, all the same.”
As they headed for the exit, Justin said, “Wouldn’t he have come over to say hello, if he’d decided it was you?”
“Maybe you’re right. All the same, I can’t risk running into him somewhere else in Wells.”
“No,” he agreed. “We’d better leave and find somewhere at a decent distance to have lunch. I’ve got the Good Pub Guide in my car.”
They went back to the White Hart. Their bags were already packed and in their respective cars. They picked out an interesting pub near Glastonbury and drove there separately. After lunch they walked up to the Tor, where it was once thought that King Arthur had been buried. By then Katie had convinced herself she was worrying unnecessarily. Justin was right. Tarquin had surely decided that he didn’t know her, after all.
Then it was time to part. They said their goodbyes in the car park.
“I wish you didn’t have to go back,” Justin said.
“Whatever happens, I don’t think I’ll be there for long. If I do manage to replicate the experiment, it’ll show that everything’s OK. I can make my excuses and leave.”
“Let’s do this again – soon.”
They clung together. But at last Katie pulled away. If she didn’t go very soon, she’d miss the tide. As she turned towards her car, the ground seemed to shift under her feet and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Black specks appeared before her eyes. She stood there swaying, her hand to her head. Justin took hold of her arm.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She waited for a few moments. The dizziness departed as suddenly as it had come.
“I just felt a bit faint for a moment,” she said.
She saw the concern in his face as he said, “If you’re not well –”
“I’m fine now.” And she was.
“If you’re sure? We could always book in somewhere and make an early start in the morning.”
“No, I’d better get back. I’m OK, honestly.”
“Will you ring me as soon as you arrive?” he said as she got into her car. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
She wound down her window. “Are you coming over all protective?” she teased.
He smiled. “After what we went through together on the ice? I know you can look after yourself. Nah, I just don’t want to let you go.”
He leaned into the car and they exchanged one last lingering kiss.
The drive back seemed very long, especially the stretch that wound along the coast with steep drops down to the sea. She was tired and at the same time tense. She found herself gripping the wheel tightly, and she made herself relax. But ten minutes later her knuckles were white again. What she hadn’t admitted to Justin was that she shared his sense of foreboding. For two pins she’d have got out of the car and agreed to find somewhere to stay the night. It had taken all her willpower to start the engine and drive back to Debussy Point.
By the time she got back to her flat, she had a thumping headache and felt queasy. The mosquito bite wasn’t as inflamed now. It was beginning to heal. But there was an itchy place behind her left ear. Surely she hadn’t been bitten twice?
She rang Justin, took a couple of paracetamol with a glass of milk, and went straight to bed.
CHAPTER 23
Gemma was back in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The humidity was intense, so oppressive that it seemed to weigh down her limbs and she moved with difficulty. Her clothes were plastered to her body and there was sweat in her hair. She was with her team and they had just arrived in a village where there had been an outbreak of Sangha fever. With her colleagues in their cumbersome protective suits, she was moving from hut to hut, and it was horrific, a scene of utter devastation. No one was left alive. The progress of this new disease must have been even more rapid than their early projections had led them to believe. People had simply laid down and died.
And then one of her colleagues raised a hand to get the attention of the rest. They stood and listened. A cry was coming from one of the huts that they had already checked. They went back. Gemma pulled back the curtain over the doorway. A woman was standing swaying in the middle of the hut. They had somehow failed to see her, or perhaps had thought that she was dead. A trickle of blood was running from the corner of her mouth.
It was then, with a cold shock, Gemma realized she was dressed in ordinary street clothes. How could this have happened? All her colleagues were wearing hazard suits, but Gemma was completely unprotected. Sangha fever was transmitted through bodily fluids and was highly contagious. There was no cure and there was a ninety per cent mortality rate.
The woman was in motion, lurching towards her like a zombie in a horror movie, arms outstretched to seize her. Gemma tried to back away, but something had wrapped itself around her legs and she was tethered to the spot. She cried out for help, but it was no good. The woman’s face was coming close to hers...
And then she didn’t know where she was. Not in the jungle. Somewhere dark and quiet. Gradually the things around her acquired definition and she saw the shape of a window. She was in her bed in the cottage at Debussy Point, with the duvet tangled round her legs.
She shuddered, still in the grip of the dream. Her silk nightdress was soaked with sweat and sticking to her clammy body. She remembered now. She’d been under the weather for a couple of days and had thought she was coming down with a cold. She’d spent the day in bed. But this wasn’t just a cold; she was burning up with fever. She thrust the duvet away and got out of bed. She went into the bathroom and took the thermometer out of the cabinet. It was as she suspected: thirty-nine degrees.
She thought of her trip to London earlier in the week, the way she’d been packed on the tube with all those people coughing and sneezing. She’d probably caught flu from one of them. She had forgotten how dreadful it made you feel. She ached in every limb. But there was nothing to be done except to take some more paracetamol and keep up her fluid intake.
She took a couple of tablets, filled up a water jug, put on a clean nightdress, and went back to bed.
CHAPTER 24
DEBUSSY POINT
MONDAY
The next day was damp with a drizzle so fine that it was more of a mist hanging in the air.
When Katie took her lunchtime walk after a morning in the lab, the Devon coast was just a grey outline. The garden wa
s inexpressibly dismal, the battered statues sadder than ever. Katie’s mood was as flat and dull as the weather. In spite of another dose of paracetamol, her headache hadn’t completely gone. It lingered on as a low-level ache, a gentle throbbing in her temples. There was still a sore place behind her left ear. Yet her physical malaise didn’t seem enough to account for the depressed feeling that had gripped her. She’d had a great weekend with Justin and she felt sure now that this was the beginning of something good. So why did she feel so low?
She forced herself to keep up a good pace to the headland where the telescope was set up, and came back through the woods. As she walked past Gemma’s cottage, she noticed that the curtains were closed and Gemma’s Jag was parked outside.
She had been back at her bench working for around a couple of hours, and was just thinking of having a break, when Claudia came into the lab and said, “You haven’t seen Gemma, have you?”
Katie pushed her chair back so that she could look up at Claudia. “No. Haven’t seen her since... I think it was last Tuesday. Why?”
“I’m wondering what’s happened to her. We were supposed to meet this afternoon before she left for London again and she hasn’t shown up.”
“You’ve tried ringing?”
“I keep ringing her mobile and it just goes to voicemail.”
“Landline?”
“Doesn’t have one at the cottage.”
That reminded Katie. “The curtains were closed when I walked past at lunchtime. And her car was parked outside.”
“Really? That’s funny.”
They looked at each other.
“Have you asked Siobhan?” Katie said.
Claudia’s face cleared. “Good idea.” Because, of course, if anyone knew where Gemma was, it would be Siobhan.
She got her mobile out. Katie listened to one side of the conversation and saw concern return to Claudia’s face.
She hung up and said, “Siobhan saw her on Friday. She was fine then. But she hasn’t seen her today and her post hasn’t been collected.”
Katie said, “Do you think someone should go to her cottage and see if she’s alright?”
Claudia nodded. “Maybe she’s got flu or something. I’ll go.”
“I’ll come with you.”
The misty drizzle had thickened and a light rain was falling now. They huddled in their coats as they made their way to the cottage.
The curtains were still closed. Claudia rang the bell.
After a few moments Katie thought she heard something inside the house. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Wait.” Katie held up a hand. They listened intently, but there was nothing.
“Let’s try again.” Claudia pressed hard on the bell and they waited, but there was only silence.
“Do you think there’s something wrong?” Katie said.
“Not sure. But I don’t like it.”
They walked round the side of the building and looked in through the kitchen window. There were unwashed mugs and plates piled haphazardly on the table and the work surfaces.
“That’s not like Gemma,” Claudia said. “She’s the house-proud type.”
“Which window is her bedroom?”
“I think it must be at the back.”
They rounded the corner of the building. The bedroom curtains were drawn, but they didn’t quite meet. The ground dropped away and the window was too high to look through.
Katie and Claudia exchanged a look.
“You’re lighter,” Katie said. “I’ll give you a leg up.”
Claudia hesitated. “What if...”
Katie was wondering the same thing: what if Claudia was in bed with someone?
“Just have a quick look.”
Claudia braced her hands on the window sill. Katie cupped her hands to receive Claudia’s knee and boosted her up. A fat raindrop fell from the eaves, straight into Katie’s eye and she blinked it away.
Claudia tried to peer into the room. “I can’t see very well – it’s too dark,” she whispered. “Oh, yes. Now I can see – Gemma looks as if she’s asleep, or – she’s ever so pale, and I think that might be blood on the pillow.” She turned a scared face to Katie. “Do you think we should break in?”
Katie lowered her to the ground. “I think we should call Siobhan. She might have a spare key.” Siobhan was also a first responder if this should turn out to be a medical emergency.
Siobhan told them to wait while she came down. She was there in ten minutes. Her arrival brought comfort. There was something reassuring about her bulk. You felt that she was solid in every way and would always know what to do.
“I’d better just try the bell one more time,” she said, “before we go in.”
Once again the bell rang out and this time there was a sound somewhere in the house, though it was hard to say what it was. A faint cry, a groan?
Siobhan turned the key in the lock and opened the door. A wave of stale air came out to meet them – more than stale; there was a faint smell of vomit.
Siobhan walked in and Katie followed on her heels. The hall was dark, and Siobhan switched on a light. The house was small, a sitting room on the right and a kitchen on the left. The doors at the back led to the bedroom and what must be a bathroom.
Siobhan called out, “Gemma! Are you here? Are you alright?” There was no reply and Siobhan went to the bedroom door and opened it. The smell of vomit was stronger.
Katie followed Siobhan into the room. Siobhan fumbled for the light switch and Katie went over to open the curtains. Light flooded the room, making her blink.
She turned and saw Gemma’s face, ghastly on the pillow, her hair plastered to her cheeks – and yes, it looked as if she’d vomited blood onto the pillow. Katie went over and tried to rouse her.
“Gemma! Gemma, can you hear me?”
There was no response. Katie put her fingers on the pulse point in Gemma’s neck. There was a pulse; a bit thready, but she was definitely alive, thank God. Her skin felt clammy, but not cold.
She turned to tell Siobhan that they should ring for an ambulance, but Siobhan was ahead of her and was already punching numbers into her phone. Katie felt the relief of dealing with someone efficient and unflappable.
Behind her she could see Claudia standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Her eyes met Katie’s. “What’s wrong with her?” she quavered. “Is she dead?”
Katie shook her head. “No, she’s not. But Siobhan, can you tell them she’s unresponsive?”
They listened to Siobhan giving the details.
“They say it’ll be twenty minutes,” she said, as she put her phone away. “Luckily they don’t have to send the air ambulance. It’s not quite low tide, but it’s low enough.”
“Twenty minutes!” Claudia exclaimed, as though she had expected them to appear instantly as if by magic. Her lower lip began to tremble. She was on the brink of tears.
“They have to get over from the mainland. Is there anything we can do in the meantime?” Siobhan asked.
Katie thought about this. “Actually there is. We can roll her over onto her side in case she vomits again. And Claudia, why don’t you go and wait for the ambulance? They’ll need someone to show them the way.”
Claudia nodded. Katie got the impression that she was glad of an excuse to leave the sickroom. After she’d gone, Siobhan came over, and with her hands on Gemma’s hips and Katie’s on her shoulders, they gently turned her over. Gemma’s eyelids flickered and she mumbled something before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
And then there was nothing to do but wait.
Siobhan said, “It was a good idea to send Claudia away. This is very upsetting for her. She’s only young still. You dealt with that well.”
It was on the tip of Katie’s tongue to say that her medical training had kicked in, and her heart lurched as she remembered just in time that she wasn’t supposed to be a doctor. The instinct to step in and take responsibility had been so immediate an
d unthinking. She would have to be more careful. She mumbled something about advanced first-aid training, but now, meeting Siobhan’s level gaze, she wondered if perhaps she had already given away too much.
“Do you need me here?” Siobhan asked. “Because if you don’t, I’ll go and make sure that Claudia’s OK.”
“No, no, you go.”
After she’d gone, Katie took a seat by Gemma’s bed. She reviewed the possibilities. This was more than the standard seasonal flu, though it could have started that way and then developed into pneumonia. Whatever it was, it seemed to have had a rapid onset. Could it be sepsis? You could get very ill very fast with that. And if it was, would they catch it in time?
On the bedside table was an empty blister pack of paracetamol, and a water carafe and glass, which were also empty. On the floor was a book – something on the Arthurian legends. Was that the one Caspar had mentioned – Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur? It looked as if Gemma had knocked it off the table.
Gemma was muttering under her breath. Suddenly her hand shot out and she grabbed Katie’s arm. Katie gasped out loud. Gemma’s eyes were wide open, but she was staring past Katie, not really seeing her. She struggled to sit up.
Katie leaned forward and took her shoulders. She tried to soothe her. “It’s alright, I’m here. You mustn’t try to get out of bed.”
Gemma pointed into the corner of the room, her face a picture of terror. She seemed to see something that Katie didn’t and though Katie knew that Gemma was hallucinating, she still felt a chill.
“Sangha fever!” Gemma said. “It’s spreading. What can we do? What can we do?” Her voice rose in a wail.
“Gemma, Gemma. It’s alright.” Katie tried to soothe her.
Gemma turned her face to Katie’s. “Perhaps it’s not too late?” she said piteously. “Is it too late?”
“No, no, it’s not too late,” Katie said.
Gemma gave a juddering sigh. “It’ll be alright?”
“Yes, it’ll be alright.”
Gemma sank back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Katie sat and held her hand.
Then Gemma muttered something that Katie couldn’t quite make out.
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