Читать книгу Catch Your Death - Mark Edwards, Mark Edwards - Страница 17

Chapter 12 Sixteen Years Ago

Leonard perched on a hard chair beside her bed, his smile adding warmth to the room. He was a distinguished-looking man in a tweed suit, with sharp blue eyes, a head full of white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard.

Now that he sat here beside her she could remember his visits to her parents when they lived in the big house on the South Downs, before they moved to Africa. Kate had been eight or nine. When Kate’s father heard that Leonard was coming to see them he became quite agitated, nipping into Lewes in the car to buy proper coffee and fresh bread. He sent Kate into the garden to choose flowers. Kate protested – she would rather see flowers in the ground than in a vase – but her father insisted. She doubted if this old bloke, this Leonard, whoever he was, would even notice, so she was surprised when the third thing he commented on, after Kate’s prettiness and the well-being of her parents, was the vase of flowers sitting on the mantel and how beautiful they were.

‘Though I’ve always thought flowers might be happier in the earth. Don’t you agree, Kate?’ he said.

It was as if he’d read her mind, and from that moment she found him fascinating. She was so glad that Miranda had gone to play at a friend’s that day – she could do without any competition from her cute little sister. Leonard and her father went into the garden to talk, and she sh­adowed them, trying to eavesdrop. When her Dad turned and told her to run along, Leonard beckoned her closer and produced a chocolate bar, a Curly-Wurly, from his jacket pocket. She retreated to the house where she shared it with Charlie, their black labrador.

Lying in her bed in the clinic, she said, ‘You gave me chocolate.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes. I think you were trying to get rid of me.’

He laughed and patted her hand where it lay on the edge of the mattress. ‘I expect I was trying to make you like me.’

‘It worked. I always looked forward to your visits after that. Not because of the chocolate,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I was intrigued by you. You seemed like the grandfather I always wanted. Kind, and wise.’

Something about the way he reacted to that made her think she’d said the wrong thing, and she blushed. He appeared troubled, but then the benign smile returned and he reached into his inner pocket and brought out a brown envelope. He handed it to her.

She studied it warily. ‘What is it?’

‘Your exam results.’

‘Oh my God. I totally forgot about this. How could it have just slipped my mind? I feel like I’m losing my mind.’

He patted her hand. ‘Having problems with your memory, are you? Hmm, well, you’ve been through a lot, Kate. I’m not surprised things are . . . hazy.’

Kate ran a finger along the edge of the envelope. ‘I’m frightened.’

‘Don’t be. There’s no need.’

‘I haven’t thought about Oxford or my exams for months, but when you gave me this I suddenly realised something: that I want this degree. I really need it.’

He smiled at her again. ‘Open the envelope, Kate.’

Her hands shook as she slid a fingernail beneath the flap and tore open the envelope. She removed the sheet of paper that she’d imagined herself receiving so many times, back in the past, in her old life. She could hardly bear to look.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you happy?’

‘A First. Bloody hell – sorry – I got a First.’ She gazed in wonder at the sheet of paper.

‘A congratulatory First. Yes, I knew already. You’re a brilliant young woman, Kate.’

Tears crept down her cheeks and splashed on the backs of her hands. She was laughing and crying at the same time. A First! With a distinction! She wanted to call everyone she knew to yell the news down the phone, to dance in the streets and scream ‘Look what I did’ to all those snobs she’d encountered at Oxford, all those snooty men who thought women couldn’t be scientists, that Marie Curie had been the exception to the rule.

Leonard grinned, and forgetting herself, Kate leaned over and hugged him.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve made your shoulder wet.’

‘I assume those are tears of happiness.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ But then she thought, If only Stephen was here to share my joy, and her tears became ones of sadness. Leonard offered her a handkerchief, so she dried her eyes, and he waved at her to keep it. Sniffing and trying to compose herself, she looked at Leonard and had this overwhelming urge to ask him something – but when she opened her mouth, the question had vanished. She knew there was something she needed to ask him, not just about the fire and Stephen, or the Unit closing down, but something that had happened before, while she was staying at the Unit. If only she could drag those memories from her useless brain.

Before she could get upset about it, Leonard said, ‘I have something very important to talk to you about, Kate. It makes me very proud to see that distinction in virology. And I know how proud your father would be. Viruses are one of mankind’s greatest enemies, and to be involved in their study, in the fight to understand them and find ways to stop those harmful strains, well, I’ve always believed that this is one of the most important scientific fields. One of the most exciting too. And things have moved on so much since I was young.’ He saw her attention waver and said quickly, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you all about what it was like when I was a lad.’

‘I am interested . . .’

‘It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about me right now. This is about you and your future. Kate, you could have a brilliant future in this battle against viruses. You could do a lot of good. An awful lot of good. The field needs people like you, with brains and vitality. And you have that something extra, don’t you? A personal connection. Because of what happened to your parents. Dear Derek and Francesca.’

She waited for him to go on, wondering if perhaps he was about to shed a tear. But he quickly regained his composure.

‘I do hope you won’t think me presumptuous, but as soon as I heard your results, I got on the phone to an old friend of mine at Harvard University. Professor James Scott. The man’s a genius, and Dean of the Immunology and Infectious Diseases faculty. I told him all about you, Kate, and he wants to meet you. He’d like to see if you’d be interested in a position as a researcher in the department.’

‘Oh my God. But what about my MSc at Oxford? I’m supposed to be starting that in October.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather go to Harvard?’

‘Yes, of course, but . . .’

‘Kate, don’t worry. I’ll sort it all out for you. And, in fact, again, I hope you won’t think I’ve been presumptuous, but I’ve already booked you onto a flight to Boston. I’m told you’ll be fit enough to get out of here next week.’