Fourth Attempt

by Claire Rayner

  ‘Nothing of the sort, mate!’ Gus said and leaned forwards. He looked relaxed and happy but George knew he was not one whit affected by alcohol. He may have seemed to keep up with everyone else but in fact had taken rather little. ‘We think you’re fascinating, don’t we? Hungarian, huh? And knows more about Canadian ice-hockey players than any Hungarian has any right to! You’ll have to explain that to us all, mate, won’t you?’

  21

  ‘I told you I don’t like shop talk,’ Hattie said fretfully as she and George made a third pot of coffee. It was now well past midnight but no one showed any signs of being ready to go. The level in the brandy bottle had dropped, but not as far as that in the plum schnapps; Zack had clearly taken to the stuff like a baby to sweet milk. ‘All this explanation about his research — I’m sure it’s madly exciting to him but for everyone else it’s too, too boring.’

  ‘I don’t think it is, you know,’ George said. ‘No one seems to mind. Even your friend Heather, who has nothing to do with medical matters, seems interested. She’s been asking as many questions as everyone else.’

  ‘I didn’t mind him telling us about his childhood — that was fascinating, all the Hungarian stuff — and getting out of Budapest at the revolution and so forth, but the rest of it…’

  ‘He is rather hogging the conversation, I suppose,’ George said. ‘But —’ She stopped short. The last thing she could do was explain to her friend that it was because Gus wanted Zack to do so that he was talking so much. Had she tried, it would have meant allowing Hattie to know just how very controlling of her party Gus had been from the start. He had set out to make contact with Zack and pump him, and that was precisely what he was doing. George had seen Gus in action many times, of course. She well knew his abilities as a man on the ground during an investigation, but she had never really seen him interrogating anyone; if his performance here tonight was anything to go by, he was a master. His touch was amazingly delicate, sometimes seeming not to be asking questions at all, but giving gentle guidance in the direction he wanted Zack to take, and Zack had responded like … she couldn’t think of a simile that fitted well but found images of fish being patiently hauled in from foaming water on the end of a line or a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights coming into her mind.

  Yet it hadn’t been like that. Zack had been relaxed and easy, a little drunk admittedly, but not in any offensive way. The spirits seemed only to have sharpened him in a way that was rather attractive: his eyes glittered, his face became pleasantly rosy, his very hair seemed to send off cheerful sparks, and he made them all laugh a lot, kept them all rapt in silent fascination at his descriptions of what he was trying to do.

  All the time Gus had sat there, leaning back in his chair, murmuring, encouraging and listening, and never for a moment taking his eyes from Zack’s face.

  But Hattie was in the mood to grumble. ‘I’ll say he’s hogging it,’ she muttered. ‘Even that chap he brought with him seems nicer than him.’

  ‘Mike Klein?’ George was glad to change the subject. ‘Yes, I thought he was rather a dull stick, but —’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder what it is about that Zack you like,’ Hattie said fretfully, picking up the tray. ‘Too pushy by half for my taste. Stick to Gus, if you want my advice.’

  ‘I am,’ George said nettled. ‘There was never any suggestion I’d do otherwise.’

  ‘There’s an old-fashioned word for you, my duck,’ Hattie said as she pushed the kitchen door open with a thrust of her hip. ‘Flirt, that’s what you are. And flirts get into trouble.’ And she sailed off to the dining table before George could answer her.

  When the party eventually broke up half an hour later, amid loud protestations over the lateness of the hour and fulsome thanks to Hattie for her superb cooking and Sam for his generosity with the Chardonnay, Hattie seemed to be a little less testy. She pulled George to one side in the welter of farewells and muttered at her, ‘Sorry if I was hateful.’

  ‘Hateful? Never that, Hattie. You can be bloodyminded, hon, in the best Brit tradition, but never hateful.’

  ‘He’s all right, I suppose. I guess I was just tired when I slagged him off. Now I’ve got my second wind, I can see why you find him so —’

  ‘Hattie, shut up,’ George said firmly. ‘I find no one anything, hear me? I’m just me, your old friend and guest this evening. Goodnight, and thanks for a great party.’ She kissed her firmly on both cheeks, and moved to the door where Gus was waiting for her.

  Everyone else was out on the front path now, and there were final goodbyes as people found their cars and started engines. Sam and Hattie stood on the doorstep, silhouetted against the light, and waved at them all as they went. George, leaning back in Gus’s car, waved too, and then sighed.

  ‘I feel really lousy,’ she said.

  ‘Mmm?’ Gus was preoccupied as he manoeuvred his way down the heavily parked street.

  ‘Using Hattie like that. Not a pretty thing to do.’

  ‘But it worked,’ he said as the car reached the main road and he was able to swing out into the traffic — thin now at this hour of the morning — and relax into his driving. ‘And let’s face it, duckie, you were the one who was worried about the guy and didn’t want to start a —’

  ‘I know, I know. I went along with it so I’m as bad as you are. Still …’ She stopped, ‘You say it worked … How?’

  He smiled into the darkness. ‘I picked up a lot of stuff from him, useful stuff. I can do some searches now, get to know a lot more about him. That was what you wanted, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said uneasily, then frowned, ‘I was listening very carefully, but I didn’t hear anything that made me sit up.’

  ‘On account of he didn’t say anything startling,’ Gus said. ‘But he gave me a lot of leads. He was at university at McGill in Montreal, he said. He worked later at the Toronto Western Hospital. He did a stint as a researcher at the Banting Institute.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean a great deal. Plenty of people will have the same sort of history.’

  ‘I’m sure. And maybe we’ll find out he’s no more than he says he is. But a little quiet chatting up of people around these places in Montreal and Toronto should give us a good deal of insight. Listen, doll. Leave it to me, huh? This is my manor we’re on. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got the basic material I wanted, Hattie had a good party and no one’s been harmed at all. Tell me about this guy Mike Klein.’

  ‘Klein?’ she said, distracted. ‘What’s to tell? You saw as much as I did. I hardly know him.’

  ‘Are you worried at all about his research?’

  She stared at him. ‘Worried? Why should I be?’

  ‘Well, you’re worried about Zack’s.’

  ‘No, it’s Zack’s general behaviour that bothers me. I have no difficulty in understanding his research.’ She was puzzled. ‘Any more than I have Mike Klein’s. They describe what they’re doing well, and it makes sense.’

  ‘Oh.’ He manoeuvred the car into a side street, aiming for the river and home. ‘Well, if you say so. I thought it sounded a bit …’

  ‘A bit what?’ she said, surprised by his hesitation.

  ‘I guess I don’t know enough science.’ He sounded unusually self-deprecating. ‘I just thought it sounds like real pie in the sky. Finding a pill that’ll stop kids from getting hooked on crack and pot tobacco. That’ll be the day.’

  ‘It could happen,’ she said, suddenly defensive of Klein’s work and a little surprised to find herself in such a mind. ‘He explained it clearly to me. It’s a matter of enzyme activity and enzyme production which are governed by gene threads, which in turn —’

  ‘Spare me the lecture,’ he said. ‘I just asked if in your opinion the guy’s work was kosher. It is, so OK. Leave it at that.’

  She was silent for a while and then said, ‘I hadn’t thought enough about it. The trouble is, Gus, all medical research sounds crazy till it’s done. If you’d have told my professor
of Cardiology, who was already an old guy when he gave me my first lectures, that there would come a time when open-heart surgery would be as commonplace as taking out an appendix, he’d have written you off as a complete dumb cluck. As it is …’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess so. So, ducks, here we are.’ He stopped the car at the kerb and turned in his seat to look at her. ‘What shall I do? Go home or stay here?’

  She looked back at him, deliberately expressionless. ‘It’s up to you, Gus.’

  ‘No. I want an invitation. Just for a change. Not an assumption, an invitation. Ask me.’

  ‘Damned if I will,’ she said irritably She stopped and took a breath. ‘Why should you ask for an invitation after all this time? You know perfectly well that you always stay here when you want to.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But tonight I want to be coaxed. So coax me.’

  ‘But why —?’

  ‘Because I ask you to!’ He seemed angry suddenly and she peered at him in the darkness.

  After a moment she held out a hand. ‘Gus, dear, here is my front-door key, all ready, you see? Please will you take it and let us both in?’

  He stared at the key and thought. Then he shook his head. ‘It’s a start, but it’s not good enough,’ he said. ‘I want a proper invitation.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ she said. ‘It’s late, you’ve had a fair deal to drink and —’

  ‘Not that much.’

  ‘— and shouldn’t be driving at all, let alone on your own,’ she finished. ‘So, please will you —’

  ‘That’s punter’s law, not policeman’s,’ he said, still sitting there. ‘Do you want me to stay or not?’

  ‘If you —’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  ‘Damn you, yes,’ she snapped after a pause.

  ‘OK. So invite me.’

  ‘Gus, I’m too tired for this crap. Come to bed, for God’s sake, and shut up.’

  ‘That’ll do,’ he said in satisfaction. He got out of the car. ‘I just needed to hear it from your lips. I’d love to go to bed with you, George, as long as it’s really me you want and not that Hungarian big mouth.’

  ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘Light dawns. This is another attack of the old machismo, is that it? For the last time, Gus. I am not even remotely interested in that man.’

  ‘You’re such a liar. You think he’s good looking, you think he’s interesting and you probably think he’s got a sexy bottom. I know you. You like sexy bottoms on men.’

  ‘Sure I do. The same way you like looking at girls in skirts that are shorter than curtain pelmets, so shut up and come to bed. This is a lot of nonsense. I can admire a man without wanting to go any further, for God’s sake. That’s how it is — was — with Zack Zacharius. Now, come on. It’s past one in the morning and I’m bushed.’

  They slept till gone eleven the next morning and she woke to the smell of toast and coffee. She stretched luxuriously as she lay there listening to him pottering in the kitchen, and remembering. It had been well past three when they had finally fallen asleep; she had thought herself far too weary for more than a goodnight kiss, and had been taken aback by the way he had taken hold of her and pulled her close. That his need was urgent was indisputable, and her first reaction was no, not tonight. Too tired. But then another thought had taken its place. He’s trying to prove something. That conversation about being invited to stay wasn’t just the half-bantering nonsense I’d assumed. He really isn’t sure. He needs to make certain that I’m telling him the truth about Zack. It was so chilling an idea that for a brief moment it threatened to douse the faint spark glowing deep inside her. But he had taken her hand and clasped it to his penis and that had been enough to set the spark into a positive firework display. From then on there had been no thinking at all. Just fireworks. Lovely.

  He brought a tray and climbed back into bed, balancing it precariously on one upturned hand. She took it from him, just in time to prevent the bed being soused in coffee and they settled to an amiable breakfast, filling the bed with croissant flakes but not minding them too much.

  ‘Sunday,’ Gus muttered as at last they finished and he set the tray on the floor beside the bed, nearly falling out himself in the process. ‘I love it. Let’s stay here all day.’ And he tried to nestle closer.

  ‘It’s a tempting thought,’ she said. ‘But —’

  ‘No buts,’ he said sleepily. ‘Just stay where you are and leave it all to me. I’ll change your mind for you. Just like I did last night.’

  ‘It was as much my idea as yours,’ she began, but he laughed.

  ‘Like hell it was. You just wanted to go to sleep. But I convinced you, hmm? I can again. Unless you’d rather be somewhere else, of course.’

  ‘You know I wouldn’t. I just feel so …’

  ‘Immoral?’

  ‘Something like that. Lazy and squalid and —’

  ‘Mmm. Lovely.’

  ‘Make a deal. Get up this afternoon, OK? Do some work on this case.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Like decide what investigations you’re going to make — you said you were going to look into the backgrounds of the Mendez and Lamark and Frean cases, remember? — and what I can do at this end to find out more. Let’s pool our ideas to see what might be going on with those deaths as well as the three attempts on Sheila.’

  ‘We can do all that much later this afternoon,’ he said. ‘After it’s dark.’

  ‘No. Say about three.’

  ‘Six, and you’ve got yourself your deal,’ he muttered, pushing his face into her throat. ‘Get up in time to go out and get some supper, do a bit of work after that.’ He was stroking her belly with one hand as he breathed warmly on her throat and it was, she decided, more than female flesh could bear.

  ‘All right then,’ she said. ‘Make it five, but no later. Oh, Gus, damn you …’

  The phone woke her this time. She lay blinking into the brightness of the afternoon sun as it poured itself across the bed and tried muzzily to work out what day it was and why it was so bright. I’ve slept too long, she thought vaguely, and peered at her clock. Four-thirty? Why was it so light so early in the morning? And then she realized, shook her head to clear it and grabbed for the phone, as Gus stirred and mumbled beside her.

  ‘Hello, George? Did I disturb you? Were you out in your garden or something?’

  ‘I don’t have a garden,’ she said stupidly, shaking her head again to clear the sleep mists.

  ‘You’ll have to invite me to your place sometime so that I can see for myself,’ he said. ‘That was a good party last night, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Um, yes, I’m glad you enjoyed it too.’

  ‘It was great Great.’

  ‘Did Mike Klein enjoy it?’ Her voice sharpened a little as she became more alert. Beside her Gus turned over and pushed his head under the pillow to seek more silence.

  ‘I don’t know. Should I?’

  ‘You brought him,’ she said. ‘So I imagined you were close friends and you would have talked to him about it.’

  ‘Oh, we’re not that close!’ Zack’s voice was reproving. ‘He’s a bit of a dull stick, to tell the truth. I only took him along because he asked me to.’

  ‘He asked you?’

  ‘Mmm. Said he hardly knew anyone and would my friends mind if he tagged along, and I said, well we can only ask. Don’t tell me I’ve broken the rules of British behaviour again! We always take people along to each other’s parties in Toronto.’

  ‘Dinner parties are different,’ she said. ‘Anyway —’

  ‘Anyway, I didn’t call you to talk about Mike Klein.’ He sounded cheerful suddenly. ‘Listen, George, I’ve been going over my presentation, and with your new input I have to tell you I’ve made it a hell of a lot better. I have one last favour to ask you.’

  ‘A favour?’

  Gus’s pillow moved, rose and then disappeared down the side of the bed as he sat up and rested his head against the board behind them, staring at her with his bro
ws raised.

  ‘What sort of favour, Zack?’ she said, lifting her brows in return very deliberately so that Gus would feel included in the conversation. And after a moment she leaned towards him, tilting the earpiece so that he could hear Zack’s voice too.

  ‘I want to show you my star patient. The one I thought I’d show the funders when they come. See what you think and help me prepare him, huh? George, will you?’

  She looked at Gus and he nodded. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ she said. ‘When? Where?’

  ‘Tomorrow night. In the ward again? Just like last week.’ He sounded eager. ‘I’d really be grateful, George. I’m heartset on getting this funding, and I truly believe you can help me do it. Will you come tomorrow?’

  Again Gus nodded at her and she sighed softly. ‘Sure, Zack. Around seven-thirty, then? I’ll see you over on Laburnum Ward. Unless you can find somewhere less depressing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ll see you on Laburnum tomorrow. Goodbye, Zack.’ And she hung up the phone.

  Gus wriggled down in bed again and sighed. ‘Another half-hour till we said we’ll get up,’ he said. ‘Come on down, doll.’

  But she shook her head and slid out of bed. The fireworks had quite gone now, and she had other things to think about.

  22

  Laburnum Ward seemed a little less depressing this time. There were more nurses on duty and a number of visitors, which gave the place some buzz, and George relaxed her shoulders as she came in through the big double doors, aware for the first time of how tense she had been. Zack was at the nurses’ station with a pile of notes in front of him and he jumped to his feet as she came down the wide corridor towards him.

  ‘George! You are punctual. Thanks so much for coming. You’ve even beaten my patient to it. I told him to be here at seven-thirty’ — he glanced at his watch — ‘so he’s got a few minutes before he’s late. Come and sit down.’ He fussed with chairs as she came round to the working side of the station and accepted a seat.