Authors: Dorian Paul
***
One by one Claire's team gravitated to the small TV in the lab's kitchen area where the chaos outside World's End Play School filled the screen. Each of them knew their time would be better spent in the lab than watching the unfolding drama, especially since they were no closer to saving these children than those in Paris. But their need to be together in this crisis kept them captive to the screen, even knowing they had nothing new to offer beyond the same two marginally successful vaccines used in Paris.
The final person to join their group was Ian Barker, his chalk-white face grim and hands jammed inside his pockets.
Claire asked him to step into her office so she could hear the news in private.
"How many kids?"
Distracted, he didn't answer. He must be listening to someone through his ear bud.
"What's happening Ian?"
"Very little to report."
"I can take it. We did this in Paris together, remember." She felt the need to know the enormity of the crisis even if she didn't have a remedy. "How many children have been exposed?"
Ian's big hands trembled when he took them from his pockets. For Ian to crumple under pressure it must be really bad. "How many kids? Please tell me."
"Dr. Ashe, sorry." His voice cracked. "No one knows for certain."
Impossible. They know but aren't saying. "Tell me."
"I’d rather not."
Why was he holding back? "Has something happened to David?"
Chapter 34
"Not Mr. Ruskin," he stammered. "My little boy. He attends that play school."
"Ian, Ian." She took his cold shaking hands in hers, pulled him toward an empty chair, and spoke as calmly as she could. "Some children survive. You know that. You were in Paris with me."
He said aloud what she couldn't bear to speak. "But most of them died, Dr. Ashe. Especially the young ones. My boy's not yet two years old." In a whisper he added, "My wife, she's in the States at her sister's wedding."
"Let's go to the school now." He'd supported her in Paris, now she'd do the same for him. "Let's go, Ian. You and I."
"No," he stated bleakly without looking at her. "The lab is in lock down. Mr. Ruskin says you're not to come until he sends for you."
"We're going Ian."
"I can't take you."
"Then I'll go by myself." She grabbed her coat from its hook on the back of the door. "I must do what I can for –"
"Oliver."
"For Oliver." She threw her coat over her shoulders. "Isn't your job to be my shadow?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then come along. I'm going to see Oliver." Ian's eyes filled with thanks.
***
They arrived to the news that pipes in the building's old heating system, last updated after WWII, had burst. A steam explosion, not a terror attack, was the cause of today's incident. In the middle of the jubilation a miniature version of Claire's shadow leapt into his father's open arms.
"Oliver, say hello to my friend, Dr. Ashe. Papa works with her. She's a special lady."
And you're a lucky little boy, luckier than you know. She was thinking less of how Oliver and his playmates had been spared Tivaz TB and more of how Ian joyfully hoisted his son onto his shoulders. Oliver grabbed for her hair, and when Ian tried to stop him she turned her head so the child could tug her ponytail. "Go ahead and yank it, honey."
His tiny hands pulled her into the father and son reunion, but she could only enter so far into their world. Ian hugged and held his child with profound intimacy, as did the other parents. And here she stood, part of and yet apart from them. She was neither some child's parent nor some parent's child. But she understood this was the meaning of family, loving someone so intensely you'd risk everything for their sake. Would she ever be blessed with such an opportunity?
A man called to Ian and he carried Oliver over to chat with his friend. She should stay with her bodyguard and not get him in trouble, but in the swirl of celebratory greetings she caught sight of David. His back was to her as he comforted a stylish woman and her little girl, so she approached slowly, waiting for them to finish. Not slowly enough as it turned out because when she got closer she became a reluctant witness to an exchange that immobilized her.
"Dearest, come home with me now. Bernard's in China. The children will be in bed early tonight and we'll have the whole of the evening to ourselves." The woman tilted her body toward David. "The whole night, if you wish," she said provocatively.
Blood drained from Claire's head to her thumping and aching heart.
David's reaction to the woman was hidden from her view, but she could see him pat the child's hair while the little girl pulled at his leg and he answered the woman with, "I'm enormously busy, Meg."
"But I've not seen you for too long," the woman declared with a moue. "I miss you, dearest."
She wanted to puke.
"Perhaps later Meg."
This couldn't get any worse.
Wrong!
He kissed Meg on the forehead. "I'll ring you."
Wanting above all else not to be seen by him, she beat a fast retreat to Ian, interrupting his talk with his friend. "I must get back to the lab."
While Ian and Oliver chanted a nursery rhyme all the way to the car, she managed to put one foot in front of the other, and then held Oliver on her lap in the front seat. Minutes earlier she would've relished the chance to play make-believe with Ian's little boy. Now she was exhausted, tired of everyone and everything. "I don't think I'm good for much more today Ian."
"Shall I take you home, then?"
Home? Sherborne House was not her home. She scrambled for a destination. All she came up with was Elizabeth's place, and when they pulled up outside her building on Charles Street she told Ian to leave and take Oliver home.
"No, I'll wait for you. Otherwise, Mr. Ruskin will have my head."
Mr. Ruskin, again. "Ian, go. Jim can pick me up later."
"Better that I should have the man on duty at Sherborne House sent over to wait for you."
"Okay, fine, as long as you take time to be with your son."
She managed to persuade him to remain in the car with Oliver while she mounted the steps and rang the bell. No response, but she put her hand on the doorknob and waved to Ian as if she'd been buzzed in. If he drove off now, and Elizabeth wasn't at home, she just might steal a half-hour for herself. And why not? There was nothing to fear here. Charles Street was deserted except for a young man in exercise clothes. No doubt he was headed toward Green Park, which they'd passed on their way over. Perhaps she'd follow him down the narrow alley they called Half Moon Street and across Piccadilly for a walk in the park, where leaden skies would provide the perfect backdrop to recalibrate herself and move past today.
But Elizabeth's voice greeted her through the intercom.
"Do come in. Whatever are you doing here?"
Elizabeth's chatter filled the stairwell as she trudged upstairs. "Of course, I closed my shop. Not a soul would buy clothes on a day like this, but such a relief. You must be over the moon."
Try under water.
"I find myself starving and am scouring the flat for something to eat. Will you join me?"
She had no hunger, but agreed.
"David must be beside himself, watching this from outside the country."
No, she was one beside herself. And as for David, "He returned to London this morning."
"Ah, I see. You managed to get away from Chelsea, but he's still tied up at the play school."
One way of describing the scene she'd witnessed.
"He must have a heap of details to sort out. Do you mind if I change into something more comfy?" Elizabeth pulled at the waist of her tight chocolate brown pants. "French cuisine. Delicious but naughty. I put on nearly a full stone in Paris."
She couldn't believe Elizabeth associated Paris with its effects on her figure when for her it existed as a waking dream of devastated French parents. And while London's families were spared this afternoon, it was only because Tivaz TB hadn't been released – not because she was any closer to defeating it. She made herself breathe deeply and by the time Elizabeth returned, wearing a yellow and bright pink Chinese silk robe, she'd composed herself to a degree and forgiven her friend for living in the present. Claire might not be able to match Elizabeth for relaxed grace as she carried in a silver tray with Stilton cheese and biscuits, a box of truffles, and a bottle of wine, but she forced herself squarely into the moment rather than the past or future.
"This is my favorite white burgundy. Dry, a little earthy. Try some Claire. You doubtless need it after the scare you've been through."
Alcohol was the last thing she should indulge in . . . but it didn't stop her from taking a greedy gulp of the delicious wine, followed close by another. She would've swigged the entire glass if not for pushing herself to slow down by inspecting the etched goblet. "Beautiful crystal. A family heirloom?"
For the first time in their acquaintance, Elizabeth remained silent. Then she refilled Claire's near empty wine glass to the brim. "Whatever are you doing here, Claire, on this of all days?"
It was a fair question. She'd shown up unannounced seeking God knows what.
"What's on your mind? Do you fancy a bit of girl talk?"
Girl talk? Yes, maybe that was what drew her to Elizabeth's door. But where to begin?
David has another woman and I'm afraid my period will be late because we didn't use protection the night Sandra died?
Could she really expect Elizabeth to be honest in return? She was David's cousin, and in her experience blood trumped all. But she needed to talk, so she quaffed more wine and took a chance on friendship.
"Who is Meg?"
Chapter 35
"I'm sorry, Claire. You must ask David about Meg."
"Your answer confirms my supposition."
"You really must speak to him. It is not so simple."
"It's pretty simple." That didn't mean she wasn't hurt, and more than a little angry at her own stupidity to put herself in the middle of his affairs. As for her friend, she'd probably behave the same way if she were in Elizabeth's shoes. "I understand why you're defending him. You're his cousin."
"You're correct that it's a family issue," Elizabeth replied, her voice oddly brittle.
Great, now she could chalk up the loss of Elizabeth as a friend alongside the loss of David as a lover. What was it about her that she ended up alone time and time again?
"Shall I tell you?"
Defeated, the details no longer mattered so much. "It's not necessary."
"I think I shall."
"Elizabeth, don't go to the trouble. I shouldn't have come here and I'm going to leave."
"Afraid not, dear. Unless I decode the alarm properly no one passes through the massive door at the bottom of the stairs, thanks to David's installation of a state-of-the-art system."
Trapped. No way out.
"David took up with Meg after Jeremy."
"Jeremy?"
"My younger brother. He worshipped David, joined the service, and joined David on a mission to Kurdistan. It went very badly, and Bobby Keane . . . well . . . Mr. Keane carried out two bodies, my dead brother and my seriously injured cousin."
Her wine buzz evaporated. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"David never forgave himself, and vowed not to get seriously involved with a woman whose life might be shattered by the return of his body."
"Your brother was married?"
"No, but he was betrothed." Elizabeth delicately traced the etching on her crystal wine glass. "These goblets were to be a gift from my family for his upcoming nuptials. My parents aimed to toss them, but I saved the lot because Jeremy had chosen them. I wanted the reminder, though I rarely use them." Elizabeth sighed. "It's more than a year since Jeremy's death. I'm not over it. No one in the family is, but for David I believe the guilt and recriminations are the worst."
She understood as well as anyone that death was difficult no matter how and when it came, but the fact of seeing David with Meg didn't hurt any less.
"He thinks a married woman is safer. Especially one who has elected to remain with her husband for the sake of their children. I think he's wrong."
She agreed with Elizabeth, but to be perfectly honest, had she behaved maturely after Ben's death? Her response had been to run away to Morocco. She'd told herself she wanted to get her life back together, but in truth hadn't she been hiding from life?
"I haven't told you this to justify David's relationship with Meg. But I hope you understand he's an honorable man. Give him a chance to explain in his own words. Ask him yourself about Meg."
"In the larger scheme of things David's relationship with Meg is really none of my business."
"Darling, you must speak to him about Meg. I can see that you care for one another."
"Maybe I'll talk to him about it at some point. But look at what might have happened at the nursery school today if it was Tivaz TB? That has to be my priority." And not only because innocent lives were at stake, but because she saw her own future with clarity, and it was one that would be dedicated to science, not family. "Solving Tivaz TB and soon is the most important thing. Really all that matters."
"Love matters." Elizabeth reached across and touched her arm. "And we must take love where and when we can and cling to it."
It wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wished she'd never seen Morocco, or encountered a terrorist called Varat, or a scientist named Omar Messina. Or had a beautiful Tiger walk into her life carrying inside him the quandary of a man called David Ruskin.
Later that evening, lying in her bed at Sherborne House, she told herself it was of no consequence when or if he returned, but pretending couldn't keep her from listening for the sound of his door. If only she had another box of chocolate truffles, like the one she and Elizabeth had wordlessly stuffed down their mouths at the end of her visit. Barring that, she popped a sleeping pill, determined to find a good night's sleep.