“I don’t go to them.” replied Pereira. “If anyone has anything at all worth saying they publish it in the journals. Some guys just like to hear the sound of their own voices. They spend half their life trotting round the world in the same little club talking about work without actually doing any. I’m not one of them. You can get away with that sort of shit in universities but not in business. Mind you, every time I publish something on the vectors I get mail from half a dozen of these bozos suggesting, ‘collaboration’.”
“Which you decline,” smiled Neef, stating the obvious.
“Damned right. They can hitch a lift on some other guy’s train.”
“It sounds a pretty monastic existence,” said Neef.
“I like it that way.”
“Another drink?”
“No, I’ve got some cultures to check on. I’d better be going.”
“See you on Monday?”
“Yeah. I’ll come in. If the brain tumour is responding already, the others shouldn’t be far behind.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Neef.
“Trust me,” smiled Pereira as he got up to go and slung his leather jacket over one shoulder.
The irony wasn’t lost on Neef.
Neef drove home, filled Dolly’s food bowl and then called Frank MacSween’s daughter again. Once more there was no reply. He shrugged and went off to find himself something to eat. This meant hunting through the freezer among the packet meals. Neef bought these by the armful on his monthly trips to the supermarket. He picked something involving chicken and read the instructions after grabbing a cold beer out of the fridge.
To his surprise, Dolly decided to acknowledge his presence this evening and jumped up to join him on the couch. She lay along it with her head resting on his right thigh.
“Well, well, well,” murmured Neef. “I’m honoured, Miss Daydream.” He scratched Dolly behind the ears, knowing that she liked this and pretty soon Dolly purred her appreciation.
“I hope you’ve had a better week than I’ve had, little friend,” sighed Neef.
Neef considered moving the cat so that he could put on some music or turn on the television but decided against it. Dolly did not bestow her affection lightly or often. The moment was to be honoured. Neef put his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He tried letting his mind go blank but events of the past week kept intruding, not least Charlie Morse’s cancer. He tried not to imagine what Kate and Charlie were going through at that moment but it was impossible. Eve Sayers had been right in her observation, he did carry too much on his shoulders and it was going to make him ill if he didn’t find a way of dealing with it.
What were his alternatives? he wondered. Booze was the easiest option but also one of the most dangerous. He had seen a number of doctors use drink to lighten the load in his time. The pathologist up at Uni College, Eddie Miller was a case in point. Transcendental meditation? Eastern religion? A holiday perhaps? Somewhere far away with blue skies and endless beaches where he could sit on a rock and fish all day, sip rum punch in front of scarlet sunsets. It had been a long time since he had taken a proper holiday and he knew why. He couldn’t face going alone. His last holiday had been with Elaine in Mexico. They had spent three glorious weeks just enjoying each other’s company away from the cares of the world. It had been Garden of Eden stuff, a treasured memory and a carefully guarded one. Nothing and no one had been allowed to intrude on it. But maybe the time had come to let go a little? The pain and guilt associated with such a thought was this time tempered by insistent logic. Elaine had been dead a long time and she wasn’t coming back. He had to let go some time.
This train of thought brought Neef to thinking about Eve Sayers. He was certainly attracted to her but something always seemed to stop him thinking beyond this. Maybe it was just Elaine’s ghost or maybe there was more to it than that if he was truthful with himself. Eve was a much more independent spirit than Elaine, a career woman with strong opinions of her own, an intelligent challenging woman whereas Elaine had been content to be a home-maker and play second fiddle to his career. He wasn’t at all sure how he would cope in a relationship with someone like Eve. Maybe it even scared him a little.
At ten thirty, just before turning in for an early night, Neef decided to call Frank MacSween’s daughter one last time. On this occasion the call was answered, not by Frank’s daughter but by his wife, Betty.
“Betty? It’s Michael Neef. Frank asked me to call him. I’ve been trying since five o’clock.”
“I’m sorry, Michael, we’ve been out.”
Neef felt instant alarm as he detected a sob in Betty’s voice. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“It’s our grandson, Nigel,” replied Betty. “He fell ill last week; that’s mainly why we came up to Yorkshire so soon after Clare’s visit to us. But he got worse around tea-time today and was taken into hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Neef.
“He died an hour ago,” said Betty.
“Oh Betty, I’m so sorry. That’s absolutely awful. This has been the most hellish week for bad news. Do they know what it was?”
“Not yet,” said Betty. “There’ll be a PM of course but I still can’t believe it myself. He was such a gorgeous baby. We all doted on him.”
“I won’t intrude any more Betty,” said Neef.
“Do you want me to give Frank a message? I don’t think he can speak to anyone right now.”
“It’ll wait,” said Neef.
Ten
Next morning at ten thirty, Eve Sayers pulled up outside the door of Neef’s cottage with Neil on board. The boy’s face was pressed up against the window of the car when Neef emerged and he broke into a crooked smile. Eve had obviously told him who they had stopped to pick up.
“Hi Tiger,” said Neef, ruffling the boy’s hair as he got in beside him. “I think it’s probably a while since either of us were out on a picnic.”
“Make that the three of us,” added Eve. “Don’t I get a, Hi?”
“Hi, Eve,” said Neef, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek.
Neil giggled and the tone was set for the day.
“I thought we might go down to Floxton Mill,” said Eve. “Unless there’s anywhere you would rather go?”
“Anywhere’s fine by me,” replied Neef. “I don’t think I know that place.”
“You’ll like it,” said Eve as she turned to concentrate on driving the car. She was wearing a white shirt, denim jeans and her hair fell loose about her shoulders. She had a relaxed air about her that put Neef at his ease. He needed a stress-free day, preferably with no mention of the hospital at all but particularly with no mention of the latest victim of the cancer.
Floxton Mill was just over an hour’s drive from the city and when he saw it, it took Neef’s breath away. It was more picturesque than any place had a right to be. What was more, the sun was shining and there were no other people around.
“How did you know about this place?” asked Neef, his voice full of wonder.
“I’ve been coming here as long as I can remember,” replied Eve. “Do you see that white cottage over there?” she asked, pointing through the willow trees to a small white-washed cottage with a thatched roof.
“Yes.”
“My parents used to bring me there for holidays when I was very little and the mill was still working. We used to come every year for two weeks in July. The mill stopped working about ten years ago and was sold for conversion into a private home along with the surrounding land. I contacted the owners and explained how much the place meant to me. They agreed I could come here for picnics when I felt the need. It’s four years since I was last here.”