Caroline looked more tired than ever when she emerged from the changing room with Kate Lineham. She was losing weight, thought Steven; hollows were appearing in her cheeks.
Kate was trying to persuade her to take the following day off. ‘Do something else,’ she advised. ‘It doesn’t matter what, just anything else for a change.’
‘I’ll be here. I haven’t seen you taking the day off.’
‘I’m more used to this sort of work than you.’
‘No one is used to this sort of work,’ retorted Caroline, holding her gaze for a long moment.
‘You have a point,’ conceded Kate, ‘but there’s no sense in making yourself ill.’ She turned to Steven and said, ‘I’m off. See that this one gets to bed early.’
Caroline had had to leave her car at home that morning because it had refused to start, so Steven drove her back. ‘Rough day?’ he asked, although the answer was plain in her face.
‘The worst. You know, I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. We’ve had only three people show signs of recovery since I started down at St Jude’s. All the rest have died. All we do is wipe up blood and vomit and urine and shit… all day, every day, over and over again
… And then they die.’
Steven glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that tears were running down her cheeks although she was not sobbing and her face was impassive.
‘Kate’s right. You need some time off,’ he said gently.
‘No way,’ she said resolutely. ‘Not until we get some more volunteer nurses down there.’
‘Are you sure you’re not doing this out of some misplaced sense of guilt?’ said Steven as kindly as he could.
‘Maybe at the beginning,’ she agreed, without protest and to Steven’s surprise, ‘but not any more.’
‘Then why?’
‘You know, I think it’s simply because I hope someone might do the same for me if I ever need it,’ said Caroline. ‘That’s the best reason I’ve been able to come up with.’
‘I think you do yourself an injustice,’ said Steven. ‘But I won’t embarrass you by suggesting that you’re an exceptional human being, I’ll just feed you dinner.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I am.’
They completed the journey in silence. Caroline leaned her head on the headrest and closed her eyes.
The food the hotel had provided was plentiful if, of necessity, cold. Since both of them were hungry but not particularly interested in food, it didn’t matter.
‘You haven’t said anything about your day,’ said Caroline as they sat in front of the fire nursing the last of the first bottle of wine.
Steven told her what he had discovered.
‘Heart surgery?’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth can that have to do with the virus?’
‘I know it’s bizarre,’ agreed Steven, ‘but it’s also a fact and I think it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore.’
Caroline still looked doubtful. ‘Now, if they had all had surgery in the same hospital at the same time, I might have to agree that there was something fishy but they didn’t and even the timescale is all wrong. They had their surgery many months ago. The virus has an incubation time of around seven to ten days, so what exactly are you suggesting?’
‘I don’t know,’ confessed Steven. ‘I think I need to talk to a surgeon so I can get some feel for what’s going on.’
‘In the meantime, maybe we can open that other bottle of wine?’
‘Water of Lethe coming up.’
After a while, Caroline slipped off her chair and sat on the carpet in front of the fire at Steven’s feet. She rested her head on his knee. ‘How long till Christmas?’ she asked. ‘I’ve lost track.’
‘Ten days,’ he said. The question made him think of Jenny. It seemed unlikely that he would be with her. He would have to speak to Sue and find out how she was going to take it.
‘Where will you spend it?’ asked Caroline, as if reading his mind.
‘Here, I should think. You?’
‘St Jude’s,’ she said quietly, ‘piling up bodies for collection. Wonder how God will square that one.’
He stroked her hair gently and she made an appreciative sound. ‘God, it seems such a long time since anyone did that,’ she murmured.
The wine and the heat of the fire conspired to bring her eyelids together and it wasn’t long before she fell fast asleep. Steven slid slowly sideways to stand up. He picked her up and took her upstairs to her bedroom, where he removed her shoes and loosened her clothing before putting her to bed and tucking the covers in around her. The central heating had switched itself off and the room was chilly.
Caroline stirred sleepily and without opening her eyes said, ‘Are you putting me to bed, by any chance?’
‘I promised Kate Lineham I would,’ whispered Steven, and he clicked out the light.
He’d had too much to drink to consider driving back to the hotel, so he settled down on the couch in the living room. He awoke some four hours later with a crick in his neck. Rubbing it vigorously, he padded over to the window, opened a curtain, and cleared a patch in the condensation. He could see by the light from the street lamps that large flakes of snow were falling, laying a carpet of white over street and garden. He shivered and looked at his watch: it was 4 a.m. Not the best time of day to feel optimistic, but something about the way the snow was silently covering the city invited parallels with the virus and nurtured thoughts about the nature of good and evil.
‘You must be cold,’ said Caroline behind him. ‘I didn’t put out any blankets for you.’
Steven turned and saw her standing in the doorway. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
‘Too many bad dreams. I need coffee. You?’
He nodded and closed the curtain again. Caroline made the coffee and they sat on the couch, hands wrapped round their mugs, staring at the fire, which Caroline had turned on full.
‘I have such a bad feeling about the way things are going,’ said Caroline.
‘It’s always darkest before the dawn.’
‘Maybe there isn’t going to be a dawn. Did you know that the suicide rate in the city has gone up by a factor of eight in the past week?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Steven.
‘They reckon it’s guilt. Relatives of those going down with the disease feel helpless because they can’t do anything to help — they can’t even give their loved ones a proper funeral because of the restrictions.’
She shivered and Steven put his arm round her.
‘Would you think me awfully forward if I suggested that we should go up to bed together?’ she asked, still gazing at the fire.
‘No,’ replied Steven truthfully.
‘Somehow I feel that time is not on our side,’ she murmured.
FIFTEEN
‘I thought I’d feel embarrassed, but I don’t,’ said Caroline as she dropped bread into the toaster.
‘Good,’ said Steven, wrapping his arms round her from behind and planting a kiss on the back of her neck. ‘Me neither.’
‘Must be that good old British wartime spirit you hear so much about,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Normal rules of social engagement will be suspended for the duration of the hostilities.’
‘My regiment marches at dawn,’ said Steven.
‘Only this time the war has come to us.’
He kissed her hair but didn’t answer.
After breakfast he tried starting Caroline’s car but found that it had a flat battery. Having failed to persuade her to take the day off, he insisted that she take his car to get to St Jude’s. In the meantime, he would try to sort hers out.
‘Will I see you later?’ she asked.
‘If you want to.’
‘I’ll see you later, then.’
A neighbour who had noticed Steven trying to start Caroline’s car came out, still in his dressing gown, to volunteer the use of his battery charger. Steven was able to charge the dead unit and be mobile within half an hour. He stopped at a fast-fit service on the way over to the City General and had the battery checked. The technician declared it defunct — ‘Won’t hold a bloody charge, mate’ — so Steven bought a new one and had it installed.