‘Even if they could, there’s the small matter of plumbing it in –’ The doorbell went...
‘Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ I said, getting up. ‘They usually come on Saturday.’ I went into the hall and opened the door…
Framed against the winter sun was the long blonde hair of my wife, Sarah. Behind her, a pram stood on the path.
‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?’ she demanded.
Stunned, I stood to one side as she manoeuvred the pram over the shallow step. Still in a daze, I indicated the living room and shut the front door. Rebecca had got to her feet. Sarah hesitated a mini-second as she saw her, then pushed the pram inside.
‘Er – Sarah,’ I said, ‘this is Rebecca, a colleague of mine… Rebecca, this is Sarah, my wife.’
Both said hi, neither of them smiling nor sounding especially enthusiastic, but each appraising the other – in minute detail, in seconds – the way women do.
Rebecca’s eyes snicked over to me – ‘I think we’d more or less finished here Herry, so I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye,’ she said to Sarah as she passed her. Sarah didn’t reply.
I walked Rebecca to the door. ‘I’ll phone you,’ I said.
She nodded. I didn’t blame her for going; Sarah had piercing blue eyes that beamed toxic rays at you down her nose… I watched Rebecca down the path, then gently closed the door. Took a breath, swallowed and went back to the living room. Sarah was sitting in an armchair, the pram in front of her.
I began, ‘To what do I owe this –?’ Just as she said –
‘Well, you certainly haven’t wasted much time.’
The effrontery left me speechless – for a few seconds, anyway…
‘She’s a colleague, and besides, it’s none of your business. To what do I owe –’ I began again –
‘I’m your wife, remember?’
‘My wife who walked out on me.’
‘And whose fault was that?’
‘Yours.’ I said curtly. ‘You were having an affair, you got pregnant, you walked out. Or had you forgotten?’
‘And why did I do all those things, husband dear?’
‘I know what you told me, just as I’m sure you’re about to tell me all over again.’
‘Because you ignored me. I might as well have been alone for all the attention you paid me, so it’s no wonder I looked elsewhere…’
‘Right. Shall we play the tape again, or can I turn it off now?’
We stared at each other in dislike.
‘How’s Charles?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I imagine.’
I waited. She went on,
‘I’ve left him – and no husband dear, you needn’t look so alarmed – I wouldn’t come back to you if you were the last human being etc. etc.’
I waited. She said, ‘Your turn. You’re supposed to say Then to what do I owe –?’
‘Then to what do I owe?’
‘I thought you ought to meet your daughter. And before you go into denial mode, I brought the DNA profile with me…’
Chapter 10
She hadn’t left Charles of course, he’d kicked her out when he’d discovered the baby wasn’t his.
I suppose I’d better tell you about my wife.
Some people like to say that public school students are snobs. They don’t know the half. Far worse is the snobbery between the ranks of public schools. Sarah’s was in the first rank, mine was in the second. All right, third – yeah, yeah, you can see the chip on my shoulder…
My father was a sergeant in the army, which is the only reason I went to public school in the first place – the army paid for it because of all the moving round soldiers do.
I’d met Sarah at a party when I was a senior house officer. She was seven years younger than me. People told me she looked like Kiera Whatsherface, which is perhaps why a chill still ran down my vertebrae whenever I heard the music of Pirates of the Caribbean.
Whatever, she was good looking and had probably known it since she was about three. Her father was a top surgeon and on the management committee of the hospital as well as having money of his own, and thereby hangs another tale. Or rather, thereby hung me.
He was delighted when Sarah and I got together, probably because I made such a pleasant change from the pond life she had been associating with. She did it to annoy him. Her sister still did. It was her way of showing her independence.
Anyway, Pops was so pleased at meeting someone he could actually hold a half-intelligent conversation with (and, of course, showed some deference) that he did all he could to encourage the relationship, so it’s a miracle we stayed together at all. Pops’ approval should have been the kiss of death.
At our wedding, he said: I have not lost a daughter, I have gained a son. The trouble was – he meant it. He never called me Herry, but always My Boy. He meant that, too. I’m fairly certain he pulled strings to get me the director’s job in Exeter.
There, I’ve admitted it. It would be nice to think I’d have got it anyway, but I’m really not sure I would. The fact is, Roland Wade-Stokes probably did have a sound reason for his resentment.
That, of course, wasn’t the only problem. Having got the job, together with the lurking suspicion that I didn’t really deserve it, I was determined to justify it. I really did work.
Sarah, to be fair, had calmed down a bit – she was nothing like as feral as her sister – but she still wanted to socialise. To party.
There are those irritating types who can party all night and still do a day’s work in the morning. I am not one of them. I couldn’t do justice to the job and lead the kind of social life Sarah wanted. So she started going on her own, just occasionally with a girlfriend, she said.
Things deteriorated and we stopped sleeping together. Literally – I moved to the spare room, which is why when she became pregnant, we both assumed it was Charles’. But there had been one night when for some reason she’d come to me, and for some reason, I’d performed.
Nasty word, performed. Anyway, that must have been when it happened – assuming she was telling the truth about the DNA. Sarah didn’t lie, mostly because she couldn’t be arsed to make the effort a good lie requires.
Anyway, when Charles had demanded the paternity test, so confident had she been that he was the father that she’d agreed without a thought…
‘So what d’you require from me?’ I asked her now.
‘Money.’
I let out a snort. ‘You’ve already had half the house – you agreed that was the end of it.’
‘That was before I knew who Grace’s father was – that’s your daughter’s name, by the way, since you haven’t asked.’
‘What happened to all the house money?’
‘We put it on the new house. Oh, I’ll get some back, Charles has already put it on the market. But I’ll need something to live on.’
‘You could always work.’
It was a stupid, spiteful remark and she looked at me with the contempt it deserved.
‘No. I intend to be a proper mother to Grace, no nurseries or boarding schools.’
Since I was sure that was part of the reason she was so screwed up, I understood her attitude. What I doubted was her ability to carry it through…
‘D’you want to see the DNA test?’ she asked.
‘How did you get a sample from me?’
‘One of your jumpers found its way into my stuff and I took a hair from it.’
‘But is it my hair?’ Spiteful again.
‘It was short, blonde, and I hadn’t slept with anyone other than Charles and you. Unless, of course, you had…’
I shook my head. It didn’t occur to me to doubt her.
‘Have you tried Pops?’ I asked.
‘Yes. You don’t think I’ve enjoyed coming here, do you? He says it’s your child, so you should pay for it. He’s funny like that.’
No doubt… ‘How much d’you want?’
‘I suggest our solicitors work it out between them, b
ased on what the Child Support Agency recommend.’
‘I’ll talk to her first,’ I said, meaning my solicitor. ‘Subject to what she says, I broadly agree.’
‘Good,’ she said.
There was a silence, then she surprised me by saying, ‘D’you want to hold her? Grace. Your daughter.’
I surprised myself by saying, ‘Yes.’
She unstrapped her from the pram, lifted her out and gently placed her in my lap.
Holding the baby…
I looked down at her. She looked like any other baby. When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them… then her face screwed up, she yawned and opened her eyes. They were blue. They fixed onto mine.
Did I feel a sudden rush of fatherly devotion, of love? That this was my daughter, my flesh and blood, the fruit of my loins?
No. She still looked like any other baby. But…
At that moment, when she stared up at me, it did come to me that she was a person, another human being. And, like it or not, I was at least partly responsible. Silently, I told her that I accepted that responsibility. She can’t have been hugely impressed by this noblesse, because she let out a howl. Sarah reached out and I handed her back.
‘D’you mind if I feed her?’ she said. ‘Or would you rather I took her out to the car?’
‘Feed her here. Can I get you a tea or coffee?’
For the first time, she smiled. ‘Tea would be nice.’
I went out and made it, taking my time. When I came back in with it, there was another surprise – Sarah was breastfeeding her. I really hadn’t thought her the type. I commented on it.
‘When I said I was going to be a proper mother, I meant it.’
I nodded slowly. Perhaps I had underestimated her…
No, gentle reader, do not assume that everyone’s going to end up happy ever after. The gulf between us was too wide, the hurt too recent and deep. There’s a saying that the people you hate most aren’t those who have hurt you, but those whom you have hurt. I think I understand that, and maybe we were both feeling both kinds of hate…
Anyway, Grace went to it with a will – there was nothing wrong with her appetite – and soon she dropped off again. Sarah put her back in the pram and said,
‘Let me know when you’ve spoken to your solicitor, and we’ll arrange for them to get together. I’d better have the details of yours…’
We swapped solicitors, then I said, ‘What’s your address?’
‘I’m staying with Mum and Dad at the moment. You’ve still got the number?’
I nodded.
I opened the door while she manoeuvred the pram out and watched until she drove away. Went back inside and slumped on the sofa.
I sat and let it all wash over me for half an hour or so, wondering what to do. If anything.
Talk to solicitor first thing, but that wouldn’t be till Monday…
I supposed I ought to let Fenella know, but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I’d said I’d phone Rebecca, but didn’t feel up to that, either.
As though to admonish me for my lack of moral fibre, my mobile went. It was Rebecca.
‘We hadn’t quite finished, had we?’ she said.
‘Hadn’t we?’
‘Do you think the problem with the Safety Cabinet necessarily means they won’t have a hidden lab? If they had somewhere like the cellar we found, for instance…’
‘No, I don’t think that. I thought I’d already said that they could well have one.’
‘I think so too,’ she said, ‘so I’ll go on looking.’
There didn’t seem to be much to say after that, so I said, ‘OK. Let me know how you get on.’
She said, ‘I didn’t know you had a child.’
‘Neither did I,’ I said without thinking.
She said, ‘Does that mean you do or you don’t?’
So of course I told her.
‘Blimey,’ she said. ‘No wonder you’re a bit off-key.’ Pause, then, ‘D’you think you’d better tell Prof Mason, in case she thinks it might affect your…?’
‘My capability? Yes, I was about to call her.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said.
Fenella asked me exactly the same question – whether it affected my capability, and I said no.
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said. ‘But I can tell you that if Roland finds out, he’ll make trouble. Can we keep it from him?’
‘Well, I’m not telling anyone.’
‘Then you’d better ask Inspector Hale to do the same. Do it now, Herry.’
I tried to ring Rebecca, but she was ‘Unable to take your call’. I left a message and she rang me back fifteen minutes later.
‘I’ve already told the boss,’ she said. ‘He agrees with me that to replace you now would only make things worse.’
‘Then you’d better get back to him and tell him to keep it to himself,’ I said, and explained why.
‘Has this Dr Wade-Stokes really got that much clout?’ she asked.
‘He’s got His Nibs’ ear,’ I said. ‘Sir Colin’s.’
‘I’ll do it now,’ she said.
She came back a few minutes later to say it would remain between the four of us. It didn’t, of course.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Sunday, the phone went while I was in the shower. Thinking it might be Rebecca, I wrapped myself in a towel and answered it.
‘Hereward? It’s John here.’ Pops, my esteemed father in law. ‘I understand you met your daughter yesterday.’
‘Er – yes, that’s right, John.’
‘And Sarah brought you up to date.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Well, as you probably know, they’re staying with us at the moment. However, they’re going out with Pat this morning,’ Pat was Sarah’s mother, ‘and I was hoping you could come round here for a chat.’
No. ‘What about, John?’
‘Sarah and Grace, of course. They are your wife and daughter.’
‘I did agree with Sarah yesterday that I’d help her financially with Grace. We’re contacting our solicitors on Monday – tomorrow.’
‘You’ll end up paying more to them than to Sarah – which I’m sure you’d rather avoid if you could.’
‘I don’t really see any alternative.’
‘There may be one. That’s what I’d like to talk to you about.’
‘I’m listening, John.’
‘It would be better if you could come here and we discuss it man to man.’
Man to man, one of his favourite phrases… and yet when we were together, he addressed me as my boy… ‘I don’t think so, John.’
‘I want to talk to you about your wife and daughter. My daughter and granddaughter. I think you owe it to them at least to hear me out, Hereward.’
I didn’t reply.
Then he said, ‘Please…’
And I heard myself say, ‘All right.’
‘Good man. An hour, shall we say?’
I went back to the shower in an attempt to warm up, then dressed, had a quick coffee and left.
Yes, you heard right, gentle reader, he called me Hereward. After the Wake, which means ‘the watchful,’ apparently. It’s what my parents named me.
My father was born near Ely and his family claimed descent from the Wake. I think this is probably nonsense, because I’ve since discovered that Hereward actually came from Lincolnshire – although that’s not to say he didn’t sire a few whelps during his stay in Ely.
However… Dad was a sergeant in the Cambridgeshire Regiment and named me, his firstborn, after the Wake. He was killed in Iraq when I was fifteen. My mother never really got over his death and died herself about a year after I’d graduated from Med School. I think she just wanted to see me and Redd through university and into gainful employment, and then went and joined Dad.
What made me choose medicine? The school doctor, who was so decent to me after Dad was killed. Simple as that. And I knew from the moment I fir
st saw a grainy picture of the perfect geometric form of a virus under the electron microscope that that was what I wanted to do.
Then onwards and upwards… until I met Sarah, and not long after we were married, I got the Directorship in Exeter. And the rest is history.
Sarah’s family lived in a large – some might say pretentious – house beside the River Exe. Jealous people said it mainly. Me as well, but I’m not jealous. As I said earlier, he had money of his own, but there was no doubting he’d worked very hard to get where he was, just as there was also no doubt that he was a brilliant surgeon and had saved a lot of lives. Didn’t necessarily make him a nice man, though.
He must have seen me coming up the drive, because the door opened before I could pull the bell handle and he ushered me in.
‘Good of you to come, Hereward,’ he said, shaking my hand.
He was the only person I knew who called me that. Everyone else used the diminutive. Even Dad did. You might think it was a mark of gravitas, respect even, but I think he just had to be contrary.
Anyway, he took me into the drawing room and pressed a glass of sherry into my hand. I accepted it because I thought I might need it.
‘First,’ he said, ‘my belated congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ I said after a pause, ‘although I’m not sure I deserve them.’
‘Nonsense, my boy. Fatherhood always calls for congratulations.’
My boy… I was losing control already… I said, ‘The fact remains that my daughter was conceived after our marriage had irretrievably broken down.’
‘But it can’t have, can it? Not completely.’
I closed my eyes a moment. ‘But it had, John. She was already involved with Charles.’
‘Marriages have recovered from worse.’
I shook my head, whether in denial or hopelessness, I’m not sure. He offered me a top up. I accepted. He stared at me…
He was a tall man, spare, upright in both carriage and demeanour, with a long, quite good-looking face and a widow’s peak. I always thought he ought to be wearing a frock coat.
He said, ‘I’ve spoken to Sarah, and I’m convinced that if you both tried again, you could make it work. The fact is –’
‘Did she say that?’
Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral Page 43