The Sunbaker, page 25
Jack didn’t seem to recognise her as she approached.
‘Oh, hi,’ he said when she stopped right in front of him. ‘Impressive transformation.’
She smiled. ‘No luggage?’
‘I didn’t have time.’
They strolled across the grass to the carpark. Usually she’d be too embarrassed to give someone a lift in her car, but the police had impounded all the usual accumulated debris when they suspected her of the murders, leaving the car’s interior in almost showroom condition.
As she drove, she wondered about the true relationship between Jack and Caitlin, but couldn’t bring herself to probe Jack with questions. He’d said they weren’t an item, so she’d just take him at his word and see how things unfolded.
They wound their way through the suburbs and soon she was driving along the harbour foreshore towards her apartment. The clouds had vanished, and the sun was lying low, glinting off the water.
She parked under her building, and they took the lift to the top floor.
‘Oh, wow,’ said Jack, as he stepped into her apartment and walked towards a wall of glass with a spectacular view of the harbour. A few sailing boats bobbed in the gentle breeze and a passenger ferry was completing a lap from the far side, all bathed in the last golden light of the day. ‘The drive in from the airport would make you think Newcastle is a shithole, but this really is some view.’
‘It’s my compensation for spending all day in a windowless office.’
She did enjoy being here. The large open-plan living area had plush lounges facing that view she loved, and there was tasteful furniture and art in all the right places – she’d paid a lot of money to an interior designer and didn’t begrudge a cent of it. She’d slowly added personal touches and was happy with the way the place was transforming from something you might see in a magazine, to something that was more lived in, more her.
‘Make yourself at home.’ She pointed to a glass-fronted drinks cabinet. ‘Help yourself while I get changed.’
Normally, when she arrived home from work, she would put on loose-fitting casual clothes, but not tonight. She showered, then spent some time trying to select just the right thing from her all too depleted wardrobe. She must find the time to buy some new things. She settled on the most flattering tight dress she could find. Although she rarely wore make-up, tonight she applied it with diligence.
By the time she returned to the lounge, Jack was seated with a glass of wine. He’d found her record collection and put on an album, one of her favourites.
She asked, ‘Do you like The Avalanches?’
Nicola was pleased to see his eyes widen as he not so discreetly took in her outfit, and her.
‘I said, do you like The Avalanches?’
‘I think I might have heard of them, but I can’t remember hearing any of their music – it’s unusual, almost hypnotic.’ His eyes roamed over her outfit again and he said, ‘Do you normally get this dressed up when you come home?’
She smiled. ‘I’m going out to dinner.’
‘Oh.’
She took encouragement from the disappointment she saw in his face.
‘Would you like to join me? I’d prefer not to eat alone.’
That lovely smile was back. ‘Sure.’
‘I’m assuming you don’t need to change, given you don’t have any luggage, and you look a little too large for anything I might have.’
He smiled again. ‘If you’ll have me like this, I’m ready.’ His phone started ringing and he silenced it without checking the caller. ‘Right, where are we going?’
Chapter Forty-eight
‘Will I call a taxi?’ asked Jack as they exited the lift in Nicola’s apartment.
‘Don’t worry.’
They pushed their way out through the glass foyer doors to stand on the harbour foreshore promenade. Dog walkers walked, joggers jogged, lovers snogged.
‘Are we walking to the restaurant?’ asked Jack.
She smiled. ‘No.’
‘Bus? Ferry? Limo?’
She shook her head.
‘Broomsticks?’
She pointed to a door that went back into her building. ‘We’re already here. It’s Korean. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Korean, in Newcastle?’
‘I know. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Newie is a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde. Most people know it by the Hyde, and still think of it as an industrial wasteland, but it’s got a great food scene, and the beaches are to die for – if only I could get away from work long enough to enjoy them.’
The waitress knew Nicola’s name and showed them to one of the best tables, with a view extending across the harbour. Dusk was settling in and the lights from the opposite shore were already shimmering on the water. The waitress placed a candle in the centre of the table and its warm light lit up Nicola’s face, making her look even more stunning.
Jack dragged his eyes to the menu. Everything was unfamiliar. ‘How about you order for both of us?’
When the waiter appeared, Nicola ordered without reference to the menu.
His phone rang again and Nicola frowned when he reached for it. It was Caitlin. Nicola was still frowning, and pointed two fingers to her eyes and then towards Jack’s. He silenced the call, then placed the phone on the table.
‘No phones at the table if you’re eating with me,’ said Nicola.
Jack smiled and placed the phone back in his pocket. ‘Any other edicts I should know about?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Such as …?’
‘I wouldn’t want to spoil any surprises, but I’ll be sure to let you know before you transgress any of them.’
The waiter placed two bowls of white milky liquid before them.
‘Rice wine,’ said Nicola.
‘Do they have beer?’
She smiled at him. ‘You asked me to order for you.’
It tasted strangely sweet and astringent at the same time. And fizzy.
‘Nicola—’
She cut him off. ‘Stop.’
‘What?’
‘You were going to talk about the bodies in my backyard.’
That’s exactly what he was going to ask. He said, ‘I hope you can’t really read my mind, because it’s not pretty.’
‘We are relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. And that doesn’t include talking about bodies. Any bodies. Not those in my backyard. Not those on the slab.’
‘Okay.’
‘And we are definitely not going to do the usual first-date routine and ask each other about where we grew up, whether our parents are still alive, which school we went to, and what are our favourite sex positions.’
He laughed. ‘Well, there goes the conversation.’
She took a sip of rice wine. ‘You could ask me about my special subject.’
‘Which is?’
She was trying to look serious, but Jack could see the slight upturn at the corners of her mouth. ‘Medieval England during the reign of Richard the First.’
‘Very funny.’
She stared across the top of her wine. ‘Try me.’
Jack’s knowledge of medieval history could be written on the back of a drink coaster. He wasn’t even sure he could spell medieval. ‘Who was Richard’s mother?’
‘Which Richard?’
‘There was more than one?’
She nodded.
‘The first.’
‘Eleanor.’
‘You just made that up.’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s a pity you can’t use your phone to check.’
‘I’ve only ever heard of one Eleanor.’
‘A girlfriend?’
‘Nope. Eleanor Rigby.’
‘Yeah, well, The Beatles came a little bit after the medieval period and so I think that Eleanor might be a bit young.’
A waiter arrived and spread the dishes around their table. Jack could smell soy and sesame, but many of the aromas were unfamiliar. He was suddenly starving. He piled food on his plate and stuck his fork in something he couldn’t identify.
‘Tell me about The Avalanches.’
‘I can’t believe you don’t know about them.’
‘Not my special subject.’
She pulled a face. ‘Have you heard of “plunderphonics”?’
Jack shook his head.
‘They mash up thousands of music samples. The first album was all done with tape dubbing, so it must have taken years and yet it all comes together with rhythm and harmony as if it was always meant to be.’
For the next five courses, as the conversation about music became more and more animated, they paid no attention to the muzak version of The Phantom of the Opera polluting the airwaves from the restaurant’s speakers. They soon discovered they both loved Australian music, albeit completely different genres. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard had never found its way into Nicola’s house whereas Jack had them on high rotation.
‘You look very relaxed,’ said Jack at the end of the meal.
She nodded in agreement. ‘That’s because I’m in my favourite restaurant, I’m not on call, I’ve had a lot of wine and I’ve been able to bore the pants off someone by talking about The Avalanches.’ She stared at him over the top of her glass. ‘I like you, Jack Harris.’
It was a long time since someone had come on to him. Caitlin had spent the whole time he’d known her pushing him away. Was it foolish to hope she might change her mind? There’d been no signs of her relenting. Maybe he should do what Caitlin was repeatedly urging him to do, and move on. He looked at Nicola. She was beautiful, and smart, and was obviously into him. Pretty much the full package, apart from the cutting up bodies thing. And he’d never had dinner with anyone interested in medieval history.
He said, ‘I like you too.’
She reached out a hand and placed it over his. ‘Why don’t we go upstairs. You can put on The Avalanches, and then I can take your clothes off.’
Before Jack could respond, Nicola’s phone rang, breaking the moment. She tried to ignore it but Jack could see her wrestling with herself.
Jack wagged a finger at her in mock admonishment. ‘No phones.’
She scrabbled around in her handbag. ‘It might be work.’
‘But you’re not on call. And you’ve been drinking.’
She found her phone and answered. Jack saw consternation on her face as she slumped back in her chair.
‘Oh, no. Is he okay?’
This time, it was Jack who placed a hand on hers.
‘Thanks for letting me know, Emma.’ She ended the call and slowly lowered her phone to the table, lost in thought. ‘That was one of the neurologists at the hospital. Bernard has had another seizure. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I should go and see him. He doesn’t have anyone else.’
‘Of course,’ said Jack. And he was both disappointed at the sudden change in direction of the evening and relieved. The spell was broken and his thoughts returned to Caitlin. He’d felt excitement at the prospect of a night with Nicola, but now he felt as though he’d almost betrayed Caitlin. And Caitlin offered more than just excitement; there was joy and, yes, love. But, and it was a big but, she didn’t want him. Jesus, this confusion was doing his head in – he needed to sort himself out.
Nicola stood up. ‘I’ll let you into the apartment.’
‘How about I come with you?’
‘Oh, Jack, I’d like that. It’s going to be hard to see him like this.’
‘I’ll call a taxi.’
Chapter Forty-nine
The hospital was quiet when they arrived, visiting hours having long finished. As they traversed the main corridor leading to the ward, Jack asked, ‘How long has Bernard had epilepsy?’
‘It’s new. His first seizure was a few months ago.’
‘Is that unusual? To start having fits at his age?’
‘It’s common enough. Usually they’re just idiopathic.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s a very fancy word we doctors hide behind. It means we have absolutely no idea what the cause is.’
‘Have you looked at his scans yourself?’
She stopped walking and looked at him. ‘Of course not. It’s private. Not to mention it would be instant dismissal for breaching confidentiality.’ She resumed walking. ‘Anyway, I’m not worried. The most common causes are a stroke or a brain tumour. He doesn’t have a tumour or they would have chopped it out and then given him radiation and chemo. And if it was a small stroke, they’d just put him on anticoagulants and he’d be sorted.’
Nicola turned off the main corridor towards the neurology ward. ‘Often we don’t find a cause, and then it’s just a matter of trying to control the seizures. It can take a bit of trial and error with the different anti-epileptics to find the right combination. I’m sure they’ll get on top of it soon.’
‘Does this mean he’ll need to take more time off? And that you’re going to be snowed under at work again?’
He could see the dismay in her eyes.
‘Hopefully he won’t be off too long.’
‘Are you going to be okay?’
‘I have to be, there’s nobody else.’
When they entered the ward, the nurses’ station was unoccupied, so they set off to find someone. Nicola showed her staff ID card to the first nurse she found and asked which bed Bernard was in.
‘Bed 7. He’s still a bit drowsy, but his obs are fine.’
Nicola thanked him and they headed towards Bernard’s room.
‘You go in first,’ said Jack. ‘I need to use the bathroom.’
Jack backtracked to the nurses’ station and looked around. The space was cramped. A tangle of charging cables fed into multiple trolleys bearing different medical devices. Shelves were crammed with folders of all different colours and sizes, some of which had been pulled out and lay strewn over the desk. He resisted the temptations of a half-eaten block of chocolate and a jar of jelly snakes.
A wheeled trolley held the patient charts in a row of hanging files. Jack scanned through the names on the spines, pulled out Bernard Henderson’s and placed it on the desk, where he began hastily flicking through it, all the while listening for footsteps. The chart was jammed with pages of different colours, filled with notes, some typed, some handwritten. He had no idea what he was looking for.
He started again from the beginning. The first ten pages or so looked like admin stuff and charts, so he skipped past them and stopped when he came to some green-lined pages with handwritten notes. To his surprise, the writing was beautifully neat. He could read every letter clearly, but he had no idea what any of it meant – it was like some foreign language based almost exclusively on acronyms.
71M GM seizure
3/12 L front IDH wt glioma GrIV MGMT+. No RT/TMZ. VPA 250mg TDS
PHx DVT/PE BPH IHD (PCI-LAD 2017), T2DM, pAF, HTN, OSA
NKA
He was about to photograph the page when he heard footsteps. He just had time to slam the chart closed and jam it into the trolley before a nurse appeared carrying a medical record herself.
On seeing Jack, she frowned. ‘Can I help you?’
Jack hesitated, trying to recall the goings on in any of the medical TV shows he’d seen. He said, ‘Ah, I’m the night RMO. Looking for Mrs Rigby. Eleanor Rigby.’
She seemed reassured. ‘We don’t have a Mrs Rigby. She might have been discharged. Do you want me to look her up?’
‘No, don’t worry, I’ll check with the med reg. But I might look in on Professor Henderson while I’m here. How’s he doing?’
‘Fine, in the circumstances. Bed 7. He’s got a visitor.’ She lost interest in Jack, opened her chart and began writing. Then she stopped and looked up. ‘While you’re here, Bed 11 needs her IV re-sited.’
‘No worries.’
‘And Mrs Kumar is constipated again. I think she might need a manual disimpaction.’ She pulled an apologetic face. ‘Sorry.’
Jack had no idea what a manual disimpaction was, but it sounded unpleasant for both him and the patient. He said, ‘I’ll come and find you after I’ve finished up with the prof.’
He found Nicola sitting by the bed. She stood when Jack entered. ‘Bernard, you’ll remember Jack from this morning.’
Bernard was propped up on a mountain of cushions, his blue-striped flannelette pyjamas a striking contrast to the starched white sheets. He opened his eyes just long enough to nod at Jack before they closed again.
‘He’s drowsy, which is usual after a seizure. I might just sit with him for a while. I’ll see you out the front in about half an hour.’
Jack was relieved to see the corridor was clear and he walked quickly through the ward. He’d almost cleared the nurses’ desk when he heard a shout from behind him. ‘Doctor.’ Then more insistent. ‘Doctor!’
Jack held up his phone, waved it, and called out without turning back. ‘Emergency. I’ll be back. Code Purple.’
‘Purple? Really? There’s a bomb?’
‘Maybe it was blue.’ He sped away, relieved not to hear footsteps behind him, and found a chair close to the main entrance. He phoned Caitlin.
She answered on the first ring. ‘Hi, Jack. Is everything okay? You weren’t answering my calls.’
‘I’m in Newcastle. I came down to try to find out if there could have been some error or contamination that led to Grantley’s DNA being on Moreau’s body.’
‘And?’
‘I didn’t find an answer. Everything is tightly controlled, as you’d expect.’
‘It’s late. Where are you staying?’
‘Nicola’s.’
Her tone was colder. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything then.’
‘Actually, we’re at the hospital. Nicola’s boss Bernard has had another fit.’
