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Chapter 18

When they’d booked into this bland, boxy, whitewashed hotel on the outskirts of Salisbury (chosen more for its relative cheapness than for any expectation of luxury), Paul had firmly informed the receptionist that they required one twin room, and one single. He’d shown them into the twin room, and announced he’d see them later for dinner downstairs. Kate liked his calm decisiveness, so different from Vernon’s panicky bluster.

Later that night, Kate and Paul sat awkwardly on the edge of one of the twin beds in the bedroom. They were drinking red wine out of squat little water glasses from the en-suite bathroom, and talking softly to avoid waking Jack, who was comatose in one of the beds, snoring gently, his robot tucked under the sheet with him.

Kate had struggled with the decision to invite Paul into the room. They needed to talk, for sure, and there was no way she was going to leave Jack with another hotel babysitter – but it seemed a bit intimate, to be sitting here like this.

Still, she supposed, at least Paul hadn’t even suggested the three of them all share one room.

The room was pretty small, with no sofa or desk or anywhere else to sit; and not really even enough room for one of them to sit on the floor. Paul was wearing shorts, and she a short skirt, and the hairs from his leg were tickling her own bare thigh. She’d moved slightly further away, but before long, he was somehow in close proximity to her again. She couldn’t decide if he was as screamingly aware of it as she was, or even if he’d noticed at all. It was such a small thing, but one which was having the effect of making everything in her body tingle.

‘It’s been ages since I stayed in a room with twin beds in it,’ she said, gulping wine. ‘Not since the CRU, probably – although these beds are a lot bigger. I’d have got a double room for me and Jack, because he usually ends up climbing into bed with me – but he takes up all the room if it’s a single bed, so then I need another bed to swap over to. We spend all night switching from bed to bed, him chasing me. Easier just to be in a double.’

She blushed. Way too much talk about climbing into beds, and chasing – even though she was referring to a six year old boy.

‘Did everyone share a room at CRU? Did you share with Stephen?’

‘Everyone had to share, but they weren’t all twin rooms. There were some “flats”, as they were called: like self-contained apartments, with a sort of sitting room with a kitchenette, and two little bedrooms off it. More civilised, although the bathroom was out in the corridor. But I was in twin rooms both times I went – much bigger rooms, like bedsits. The beds were at opposite ends of the room, and the rooms had an en-suite bathroom. And no, I definitely wouldn’t have been allowed to share with Stephen, even if he hadn’t been staff ! Strictly single-sex. We were meant to be in isolation with our room-mate. Besides, nobody knew Stephen and I were a couple. He didn’t often stay on site anyway, he had a rented flat in Salisbury.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, it was a bit dead up there. He did want some kind of life outside work, you know.’

‘No, I meant, why didn’t anybody know you were a couple?’

Jack snuffled and stirred in his sleep, reaching out a floppy arm to cuddle his unwieldy robot.

Kate waited until he was still again before continuing. ‘I’m not sure. Stephen made a big deal about it at the time, and I never really understood why. All he’d say was that it was best if no-one knew. That was one of the other things which made me suspicious. I mean, what would it matter, as long as we stuck to the rules when we were on CRU property? But he had a real issue about it – it obviously made him anxious.

‘When I confessed that I’d told Sarah about us, he was really upset. He kept saying, “This is a disaster, what if it gets out? What if the rest of the staff find out? I’ll lose my job!” At first I just thought it was because he was a bit of a golden boy, and he didn’t want anybody to know he’d been fraternising with the patients. It turns out there was some daft old-fashioned rule about it.’

Paul smiled. ‘Old Stephen always did have jobsworth tendencies . . . So, tell me more about Sarah.’

As he spoke, he reached out a finger and softly stroked Kate’s forearm. Kate froze, her eyes open wide with shock and pleasure – but Paul wasn’t looking at her. He gave no sign that he was any more aware of this little movement than he’d been by the fact that their legs were touching. She realised that she was more aroused than she had felt for years. This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m so sex-starved that I’ll probably have an orgasm from some guy stroking my arm! She tried, and failed to remember when she’d last had sex. Probably not since Jack was out of nappies.

Paul waited for her to tell him what she’d remembered about Sarah.

She cleared her throat, willing Paul not to stop stroking her. But at the same time, she couldn’t help shuddering at the memory she’d had earlier, while standing on the CRU site, of Sarah emerging with her from the building, as sooty and sick as she herself was.

‘Um . . . So – Sarah. The last time I saw her was after the fire. I can’t remember much about that night, except that she helped carry me out. She was ill too, so I don’t know how she did it. But I do have a distinct image of her lying on the grass outside, coughing. We were all coughing, from the smoke, and the flu. I didn’t see her again after that – I got taken away to this hospital. I’m sure I asked about her, but for the life of me I can’t remember if I got an answer. Then I went off to the States, and didn’t give her another thought, really.’

The stroking was intensifying, long slow swoops up and down her forearm. Kate broke out in goosebumps all over. She wanted to grab Paul and kiss him, but couldn’t bring herself to. He wasn’t even making eye contact with her; his eyes were firmly fixed on the action of his finger running up and down the skin of her arm. Surely this means he fancies me, she thought? She was so out of practice. Perhaps he was just being encouraging . . . oh don’t be ridiculous, Kate, she told herself. Of course it must mean he fancies you. You don’t randomly go around stroking forearms of people you don’t fancy. Not like this, anyhow.

‘More wine?’ She jumped up abruptly, and refilled their glasses. Damn, she thought. Now he’s going to think I wasn’t enjoying it, or it wasn’t appropriate.

But perhaps it wasn’t appropriate. Did she really want him? Or did he just represent the closest thing to Stephen reincarnated that she was ever going to get? She sighed.

Paul looked at her then, and smiled. He patted the bed next to him. ‘So her name was Sarah Evergreen. Why exactly did you call her the Green-Eyed Monster? What was she jealous of ?’

She sat down again. This time, she purposefully sat a little bit closer, so their legs were touching without either of them having to move.

‘She was jealous of me and Stephen. I didn’t much like her, she was a stroppy cow. My sort of age, and quite pretty, with all this red hair, and I was really pleased when I first met her, because I thought she’d be fun. She was, at first, but it soon became clear that she had her eye on Stephen. She didn’t realise that we were already an item, so when she started saying how fit he was, and how she’d love to be pressed against the lab benches by him – you know, that sort of thing – well, it was really difficult. I couldn’t say anything, because it was a big secret that Stephen and I were together. I had to sneak out at night to meet up with him, and it really pissed me off that we couldn’t be open about it – but after a while I just couldn’t keep listening to Sarah going on and on about cute he was, and what she was planning to say to him to get him interested in her – it was painful! And believe me, she really went on about it. There wasn’t much else to do in there, apart from watching TV, so she’d made Stephen her little project. Eventually I decided I just had to tell her.’

‘What did she say?’

Kate frowned. ‘Again, I can’t really remember. She wasn’t happy, that’s for sure. But we were both quite ill by then – it must have been a day or two before the fire. I suspect that if we’d both been feeling well, we’d have had a big row, but I think she was too out of it to do much other than moan and bitch at me.’ She shuddered. ‘Ugh. She was a pain in the ass. I do remember lying on my bed with a temperature, and her whining away on the other side of the room. I wanted to swat her like a mosquito. But I didn’t have the energy. I felt too crap.’

‘So you both had colds?’

Kate hesitated. She wished Paul would start stroking her arm again, but apart from their legs touching, he wasn’t doing anything other than listening. She hoped she hadn’t given out signals that she didn’t want to. Although more than likely this was exactly what she’d done, since she wasn’t sure that she did want to . . . It was all a bit weird. The last thing she’d expected to happen on arrival back in England was to meet a new man. Let alone Stephen’s bloody twin brother! It was insane. She tried to concentrate on the conversation, and not on Paul’s solid, sexy proximity.

‘Well. I suppose at the time I assumed I had really bad flu. But now I think back to it . . . it wasn’t like any flu I’ve ever had. I suppose it could have just been that my temperature was so high that it felt worse than it was. But the only time I’ve ever felt more ill was when I was a kid, with the same disease that my parents . . . well, you know . . . died of.’

She felt uncomfortable, in case Paul thought she was courting sympathy, but to her gratitude, he reacted in a completely matter-of-fact way.

‘Do you think it could have been something else you had? Some other illness, I mean?’

‘All I can say is that it didn’t feel like flu. And certainly not like any sort of cold. But it’s all such a blur, and then the fire broke out, and all I can really remember after that was what I told you before, about being in that hospital weeks later, and Leonard telling me I’d got a “Congratulatory First”, as they called them at Oxford, and he’d arranged for me to go to Harvard. Anything else just comes in flashes. Or nightmares.’ She paused again. ‘I have a lot of nightmares. But at the time, if I was thinking rationally at all, it wasn’t about the fire, or Sarah, or how ill I’d been . . . It was about Stephen. All I could think about was how I’d lost him, and how it felt as if I’d never be happy again.’

She stopped, her voice thick and choked with sudden tears. It felt insensitive for him to see her eyes so full. When she glanced at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed, she saw with shock that there were tears running down his cheeks too.

‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ she said, instinctively reaching out to him and putting her arms around him. ‘I only knew him for a few months – and he was your twin. It must be so much worse for you.’

He swiped his face with the back of his hand, and leaned into her embrace. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’m not usually a crier, honest. In fact, I probably haven’t cried since he died – apart from when Southampton got relegated, of course.’ He smiled ruefully, and Kate was reminded even more strongly of Stephen. He used to have that same self-deprecating humour too. And, if she remembered rightly, Stephen also used to support the Saints, Southampton’s football team.

‘It’s not nice to see you upset about him, but it’s kind of amazing to be with someone who understands the loss, and who loved him too. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I can’t talk to my parents about him. It’s too painful for them. And Stephen and I didn’t have any mutual friends, so this is the first time I’ve met anybody who . . . misses him like I do.’

Something in his honesty, and the catch in his voice, touched Kate deeply. Suddenly she realised that, no, this wasn’t just about Stephen. She didn’t just see Stephen in him, alike as they were. She was attracted to him, Paul, and the rush of adrenaline and sudden lust would have knocked her off her feet, had she been standing.

She hugged him tighter to her and, at that moment, Jack snored and rolled over so he was facing the wall. Thanks, Jack, she thought, as she gently lifted Paul’s face up towards her and kissed his lips. They tasted salty with tears, and felt so soft.

He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist. To her immense relief, it wasn’t like kissing Stephen. And it certainly wasn’t like kissing Vernon (kissing Vernon, as she recalled, had been more like being caught in the spin cycle of a washing machine). This was an entirely new and entirely lovely experience. She immediately wanted to rip off all her clothes, and jump on him. It was lucky Jack was in the next bed, otherwise she probably would have done, she thought, sighing with pleasure as Paul touched her breasts with the same light finger with which he’d stroked her arm.

They didn’t talk about Sarah, or the CRU, or Stephen, for the next hour and a half. The wine got finished, and Kate got stubble rash on her chin, but somehow, miraculously – particularly since they were already lying on a bed – their clothes for the most part remained in place.

‘This is so wonderful,’ Paul whispered at one point, their tears forgotten.

Kate nodded. ‘Wonderful – but very weird.’

A thought struck her. ‘I don’t know much about you, apart from who your twin was. You aren’t married, are you?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘Nope.’

‘Divorced?’

‘No.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Broke up with her six months ago. Been on my own ever since. You have nothing to worry about.’

‘I’m married, though,’ she said sombrely, picturing Vernon’s face, twisted with rage at the realisation that she and Jack had gone. For some reason, she saw him standing in the doorway of Jack’s abandoned bedroom, looking with fury at the neat Red Sox duvet cover, perhaps hurling it across the room. Perhaps sobbing, with rage and frustration. Oh god. She had a horrible feeling that the fallout from their flight hadn’t even begun.

Paul merely smiled again. There was something so calming about being with him. ‘Yeah, but you won’t be for much longer, will you? I mean, isn’t that what all this is about; you being over here?’

Kate nodded.

‘Well then. What’s a bit of pre-emptive infidelity between friends?’ He kissed her again, and she somehow managed to forget about Vernon. For now, at least.