Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

Duncan and Lenka’s relationship prospered. They were very professional about it. There was no hint of anything in class or in front of the other trainees. Even when they were with Eric, Alex, Chris and Ian, they behaved more like good friends than a couple. They would often sit next to each other in a bar or restaurant, and there was a lot of good-natured teasing, but there was none of the all-exclusive inward-looking intimacy with which a couple can sometimes disrupt a group of friends.

But they did spend a lot of time together. Duncan usually stayed with Lenka in the Village, often arriving back after midnight, or at weekends, not at all. They went away for the Memorial Day weekend together, to Cape Cod. Duncan wasn’t getting much sleep, but he was thriving on it. He was happy, and the self-pity about his work, which had begun to irritate Chris and Ian, disappeared. Lenka, too, seemed happy with life, although for her this seemed a much more usual state of affairs. Ian would occasionally wonder what on earth she saw in Duncan, but even he couldn’t complain at Duncan’s good spirits.

Besides, Ian was enjoying himself. He would often venture out alone around nine or ten in the evening. Occasionally Chris would be startled on the way to the bathroom the following morning by a strange woman. During the course of the summer, he saw four or five of these. Most were American, but one of them was an au pair from France. She was the only one who Chris saw more than once. They were all attractive.

Chris wasn’t surprised that Ian’s success with women, which had been marked at Oxford, was even more apparent in New York. He made full use of his accent, and for some reason that Chris couldn’t fathom, women seemed to find his arrogance attractive rather than off-putting. None of those who came back with him in the middle of the night thought they were at the beginning of a beautiful relationship. But, Chris reasoned, perhaps that was why they were there in the first place. Ian’s success was all the more remarkable because the AIDS scare was still very much alive in New York at that time. Ian thought the risk to heterosexuals was overrated and presumably his new friends agreed with him. Duncan became extra careful with the washing up.

Alex was struggling. His mother was ill. Very ill. She had leukaemia, and it was getting worse. He had kept it quiet from everyone apart from Eric, but when her condition changed from stable to deteriorating, Alex felt he had to spend as much time with her as he could. She was entombed in a hospital near her home in New Brunswick. He went there every weekend and often after class in the evening. He took as much time off as he could but, not surprisingly, Calhoun was unsympathetic. Alex pushed it as far as he dared, but eventually Calhoun made it clear that one more day off, and Alex was out.

Alex’s father had died three years before, and his brother had taken off around the world soon afterwards. He was now working as crew on a sailing boat in Australia. To Alex’s disgust, his brother said he wouldn’t be able to make it back to the States to see his mother. So the burden of responsibility fell on Alex, who took it hard. She was in pain whenever she wasn’t pumped up with drugs, and Alex felt her pain. It was difficult flogging out there so often to see someone who could barely speak and who was obviously in such agony. He hated being with her and he hated being away from her. Lenka accompanied him on a couple of these visits and that seemed to cheer him up. But his work suffered, and he slipped to take Duncan’s place in that fourth quartile.

Tamara made it over to America one more time. She came for the Fourth of July weekend. This time, she flew direct to Washington, and Chris took the Amtrak to meet her there. They had a great weekend. They saw the fireworks on Capitol Hill, listened to the 1812 Overture, and explored the sweltering city and its restaurants. Chris felt much more relaxed: Tamara was able to make unkind comments about Americans without anyone he knew hearing her, and he didn’t have to worry about her insulting his friends.

Duncan’s happiness didn’t last the summer. It was shattered on a hot and humid Saturday night, two weeks before the end of the programme. Chris was sleeping fitfully, entangled in a single sheet on his bed, when he was awakened by the crash of the apartment door slamming. He glanced at the alarm clock. One fifteen a.m. He heard a grunt. Duncan. He rolled over. Duncan was usually quiet when he came back from Lenka’s. As he surfaced from sleep, Chris realized something else was odd: Duncan usually stayed at Lenka’s on Saturdays. There was no reason for him to come back to their apartment in the middle of the night.

A loud bang. Duncan swearing. Another grunt. A crash of a chair falling over. This did not sound good. Chris crawled out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. Duncan was in the hallway, swaying. His face was white in the bright hallway light.

‘Are you OK, Duncan?’

Duncan blew out his cheeks and focused on Chris. ‘I’ve just had a wee drink,’ he said slowly. ‘Going to bed. Don’t feel too good.’

He was smashed out of his brain. Chris didn’t like the way Duncan’s chest was heaving, as though he were trying to keep something down.

‘Let’s go to the bathroom, Duncan,’ said Chris, grabbing hold of him.

‘No. Bed,’ said Duncan, but he allowed himself to be led away by Chris. As soon as he saw the lavatory bowl, he lunged at it. Chris held on to him as he emptied his stomach.

He heard Ian behind him. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Stupid bugger. I hope he’s going to clear that up.’

‘I don’t think he’ll be able to.’

‘Well, I’m not doing it,’ said Ian, and he retreated to his room, shutting the door firmly.

Chris cleaned up the lavatory, and Duncan. He pulled off most of his clothes and laid him on his bed. Duncan fell asleep instantly.

Late the next morning, Chris looked into Duncan’s room. He was lying on his back with his eyes open. The room stank of old alcohol.

‘How are you feeling?’ Chris asked.

‘Horrible,’ said Duncan in a cracked voice. ‘You couldn’t get me some water, could you, Chris?’

Chris returned with a large glassful, which Duncan drank. ‘God, my head hurts.’

‘I’ve never seen you that drunk before,’ said Chris.

Duncan shook his head. ‘I don’t even remember coming back here. Did you help me get into bed?’

Chris nodded.

‘Thanks.’ Duncan ran his tongue round his mouth. ‘Yuk. I threw up last night, didn’t I?’

‘You did. What happened?’

‘We had a row.’

‘You and Lenka?’

‘Yes.’

Chris waited. He knew Duncan would tell him.

Duncan sighed and winced. ‘This headache is horrible. It’s over, Chris.’

‘No! Are you sure?’

‘Am I sure? Of course I’m sure.’

‘Why? What happened?’

Duncan paused. ‘It’s my fault. I pushed her too hard.’

‘About what?’

He sighed. ‘I suggested we live together. The programme finishes in two weeks, and I couldn’t face the thought of going back to London and leaving her here. I realized that she’s the most important thing in my life. My career at Bloomfield Weiss is screwed, that’s obvious. So I told her I’d quit and live with her in New York. It should be easy enough to find another job on Wall Street. Or else she could live with me in London. Or we could both go to Czechoslovakia. I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to leave her.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘Nothing at first. She went quiet, as though she was thinking. But I knew right away that I’d blown it.’ Duncan paused, and winced again, whether from his head, or the memory of his conversation the night before, Chris couldn’t tell. ‘Then she said she’d been thinking about the end of the programme too. She said she liked me, but she didn’t want the kind of commitment that went with living with someone. She said it would be better for both of us if we split up now.’