Читать книгу Night Angels - Danuta Reah - Страница 13

Saturday evening found Roz at the entrance to the block containing Joanna’s flat. The building was low – three stories – and set back from the road. The front overlooked the park and the back looked on to a wooded hillside. It formed an enclave of rural seclusion in the centre of the city. Roz sometimes wondered how Joanna afforded to live here on an academic salary. She rang Joanna’s bell, and gave her name as the intercom crackled incomprehensibly at her. She straightened her shoulders and pushed the door open. She found Joanna’s parties a bit of an ordeal, and she wasn’t sure why she had been invited to this one. She’d queried this with Luke as she left work on Friday. ‘You’ll be the cabaret,’ he’d said, without looking up from his screen. ‘Take your fancy knickers.’

Thanks a bunch, Luke! She was at Joanna’s door now, and Joanna welcomed her with the social kiss she never used with Roz at other times. She took the wine that Roz had brought with a quick glance at the label. Bringing wine was probably a faux pas, Roz reflected as she and Joanna exchanged meaningless social pleasantries. Joanna was wearing a black dress of impeccable elegance and looked beautiful. Roz told her so, and for a moment a look of genuine pleasure appeared on her face. ‘We’re in here,’ she said, ushering Roz into the lounge. Roz envied Joanna this room with its huge windows that filled the whole of the far wall. She had spent an afternoon here before Christmas when the Arts Tower was closed, going through some spreadsheets in preparation for the finance meeting, watching the winter sunset turn the clouds grey and brilliant red, the sun an orange fire through the trees.

She felt the cloudy softness of the carpet under her feet as she crossed the room, nodding to one or two familiar faces as she followed Joanna to where a small group was admiring one of the paintings. Joanna performed the introductions quickly. There was Mark Bell who Roz knew by sight; an influential member of the grants committee, one of the new breed of industry-based academics. ‘And this is Petra, Mark’s wife,’ Joanna went on. ‘I don’t think you’ve met Jim, Jim Broadbent. Jim’s with Ashworth Lawrence.’ One of the biggest legal firms in South Yorkshire. Roz had recognized the name – another man with influence in both the legal and academic worlds. She found herself wondering if Joanna had any friends who were just that – friends. Presumably, Roz’s role tonight was to sell the Law and Language Group to these people whose influence stretched beyond the confines of the university.

‘And you may have met Sean Lewis,’ Joanna was saying. ‘He completed his doctorate at MIT. He’s with Martin Lomax’s team.’ The computer department. ‘Sean, this is Rosalind Bishop.’

Roz found herself looking into the appreciative eyes of a very young man. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ she said.

He smiled. ‘I’m sure we haven’t.’

Joanna pressed a glass of wine into her hand and Roz, tasting its almost astringent coolness, decided that her bottle of supermarket Chardonnay had certainly been a gaffe. She looked at Sean Lewis, wondering why Joanna had made a point of introducing them. ‘MIT,’ she said. ‘That’s an impressive alma mater.’ Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She wondered what someone with a doctorate from that institution was doing in Sheffield.

He seemed to pick up her unspoken question. ‘It’s where it’s all happening,’ he said, ‘but it’s a bit one-sided. Great if you’re a total geek – they’re all like, “Work, work.” I’m more, “Get a life.” There’s a lot of places I haven’t been yet. They don’t understand that over there.’ He shrugged.

Roz nodded, amused. She had spent most of her early working life focused on getting her toe-hold and pulling herself up the ladder. So had most of her contemporaries. It had seemed, then, possible to put other things on hold. She found Sean’s attitude refreshing.

They talked for a bit longer, then she did her duty and circulated, talking about the politics of the health trust with Jim Broadbent, and the importance of PR with someone she knew she knew, but whose name she couldn’t remember. Then the groups reformed and she relaxed for a moment as she listened to the swirl of chat around her; something about hospital funding on her left, something about the current state of theatre in Sheffield to her right, something about the plight of the universities and the role of research in modern technological societies from a group in front of her. Roz listened to them talking about the new Home Office regulations, about the hidebound administration of the university, before Joanna took them through to where food was laid out.

The dining room was a minimalist contrast to the soft comfort of the lounge, with a polished beech floor, and a table that gleamed with crystal and candlelight. Roz looked at the impressive buffet and wondered again where Joanna found the time to do all the things she did.

Joanna came towards her with the young man, Sean Lewis, in tow, and Roz wondered what she was up to. Whatever. It was just for an evening, and Sean was attractive and entertaining company. Their talk was impersonal, work-based, but there was a subtext that Roz was aware of inherent in the way he stood slightly closer than necessary, the way that when their eyes met he maintained the contact, the way he stood forming a barrier between Roz and the rest of the room. You’ve pulled, Bishop. Luke’s voice, in her mind. It made her want to smile, but she kept her face serious.

Sean seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts about the Law and Language Group, and talked quite knowledgeably about it. He understood her interest in the research side of the group’s work. ‘It’s the technology and the software every time,’ he said. ‘Take the grants, develop the prototypes and then get out there, market them yourself.’ He thought they were wasting their time with the criminal work. ‘Pissing about with tapes,’ he said dismissively.

Roz was suddenly alert. This young man was clearly a high-flier. His field was computing and software. He seemed well travelled, talking about America, Europe, the Far East. Attending one of Joanna’s parties was hardly the way he would choose to spend an evening. He looked as if he would be more at home in one of the notorious Sheffield clubs. She wondered what the attraction was.

She could see Joanna glancing across at them, a speculative gleam in her eye. She understood, now, why Joanna was so interested in Sean Lewis and why she wanted him and Roz to get on. If Joanna could pull it off, he would make a perfect replacement for Luke. It wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed. Joanna had talked about enhancing the post, giving the software researcher control of the European grant work. He wanted to travel. He could still pursue his own interests – in fact, a link with a successful research group would be an asset. He smiled at her and helped himself to a piece of asparagus off her plate. Making a pact with the devil? She wondered if she should be using a long spoon.