Simon Beckett - Where There's Smoke

She concentrated on the piped music. It was familiar. She had a version herself on CD. Vivaldi. The Four Seasons — Le Quattro Stagione. She tried to remember which movement it was. “Spring”? Or “Winter”?

At the end of the couch, Dr Janson straightened. “Right. There we go.”

Kate lifted her head to see the nurse step forward, holding out a stainless-steel tray. Dr Janson put the inseminator and speculum into it and smiled down at Kate. “How do you feel? All right?”

Kate nodded. “Good. Just lie still for a few minutes, and then you can get dressed and go home.”

“So I can carry on as normal?”

“Completely as normal. I’ll see you tomorrow for the second insemination, and then that’s it for this cycle. It’s just a matter now of keeping your fingers crossed and waiting to see if you have a period or not. If you do, then we’ll try again next month.”

She gave Kate another smile. “The nurse will bring you a cup of tea or coffee, so just relax for a few minutes. There’s no rush.”

She left. The nurse asked Kate what she wanted to drink and then left also, carrying the tray containing the instruments and the doctor’s latex gloves, crumpled on the gleaming metal like a beached jellyfish.

Kate lay back on the couch. I’ve done it now. The thought was a silent, exultant cry, setting her down on the other side of a barrier from the fears and uncertainties of a pre-insemination existence. She felt drunk on the knowledge that she was irrevocably committed. Even if she didn’t become pregnant this cycle, there was always the next. Or the one after that. She had finally made the leap. Now it was simply a matter of continuing.

The nurse returned, carrying a china cup and saucer and a plate of biscuits. “Another five minutes and you can get dressed,” she said. Kate pushed herself upright as the woman set the tea and biscuits on the table at the bottom of the couch. She turned to go, but then bent and picked up something from the floor. “Is this yours?”

She held out the gold chain and locket Alex had bought Kate for Christmas. Kate’s hand went to her throat. “I must have caught it when I was getting changed. Thanks.”

Though the chain was light, Kate felt a heaviness at its cold touch as she fastened it back around her neck. Subdued music, played on unfamiliar stringed instruments, was playing in the Thai restaurant. The dining room was dark, but each table was lit by two fat candles so that walking down the aisles between them was like being in a temple. The air smelled of burning candle wax, lemon and garlic.

Alex was already at the table when Kate arrived. She had thought it best if they made their separate ways there, rather than share a taxi as they had in the past. The candlelight gave his face a melancholy cast as he stared into it, reminding Kate with a pang of the first night they had gone to Lucy and Jack’s. Then he looked up and saw her, and she pushed the memory away.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, as the white-jacketed waiter pulled back her chair. “The taxi didn’t turn up so I had to order another.”

“That’s okay.” Alex smiled at her. “You look... ah, you look great.”

Her hair was up in a chignon, and she wore a plain black long-sleeved dress. The locket hung around her bare neck. “Thank you.”

They fell silent. “So—” they began at the same time, and stopped. “Sorry. You first,” Kate said.

“I was just going to ask how it went.” He lowered his voice slightly. “You know, at the, er, at the clinic.”

She had finished her second insemination the day before. “Oh, okay. I’ve just got to wait and see what happens now.”

“Well. I hope...” Alex struggled. “Well, you know.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

The bubble of tension around them seemed to tighten, choking any chance of conversation. Kate looked at the other tables, islands of intimacy with their burning candles. The conversations were low but animated, a murmuring counterpoint to the tinkle of cutlery. No one seemed miserable. She drew a deep breath. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.”

He looked hurt. “Why?”

“It just might have been better to leave it as it was.” She shrugged. “This is only dragging things out, isn’t it?”

Alex nudged the warm wax pooled at the base of the candle with his finger. He didn’t look at her. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” she said, after a moment. The waiter returned. Giving a short bow, he handed them each a menu.

“They serve saki. Why don’t you have a flask?” Kate asked, brightly.

“Aren’t you having any?”

“I’m not drinking alcohol.” She glanced at the waiter, who was waiting patiently by the table. “But don’t let that stop you.”

Alex looked momentarily bewildered, then understood. “Okay.” He sounded apathetic.

They ordered, but lapsed into silence again once the waiter had gone. There was a disturbance on the other side of the restaurant, where the head waiter, distinguished by a black jacket instead of a white one, was having a controlled but heated debate with the occupants of a table hidden by a bamboo screen. Finally, with a terse nod, he strode towards the kitchen. The distraction over, Kate tried to think of something to say. “So how’s work?” she asked.

“Oh... okay, thanks.”

She cast around for another conversational gambit, but they all skittered out of reach. The waiter arrived with a truncated flask of saki and a bottle of mineral water. He filled their glasses and withdrew.

“Well. Cheers,” Kate said, raising hers. The bubbles from the water tickled her tongue. She noticed that Alex hadn’t drunk from his glass.

“Look, Kate...” he began, slowly, and she stiffened at the seriousness of his tone. “I, er...” He swallowed. “I just wanted to say... I’m glad... uh, glad it was me.” He broke off, his voice husky, and looked away quickly.

Kate felt her eyes sting. But she was saved from having to respond by the return of the waiter. He put a metal warming tray in the centre of their table, and lit the four alcohol lamps inside with a taper he first held in a candle flame. Another waiter appeared and set out a series of small steaming bowls on top of the tray. They bowed again and left.

“Smells delicious,” Kate said. Her appetite had vanished.

Avoiding each other’s eyes, they served themselves with portions of rice and subtly scented meat and vegetables.

They both reached at the same time for the small bowl of satay sauce. Kate smiled and motioned for Alex to take it first, and as she did there was another commotion from the other side of the restaurant.

The head waiter was standing beside the screened table again. This time he was shaking his head, emphatically, talking in a low but firm tone against the more strident voice that was raised against him. Kate couldn’t make out what either was saying, but the hidden speaker grew louder and more angry, and there was just time to register that the man’s voice was familiar when there was the scrape of chairs being pushed back.

The screen shook as the couple who had been sitting behind it stood up. The girl was heavily made up, large-breasted and drunk. The man with her had his back to Kate but then he turned, and she felt the shock of recognition as she saw his profile. She ducked her head, stared down at her plate.

“Kate? What’s the matter?” Alex asked. She shook her head without looking up. The exit was behind her, she realised, sickly. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. Now she could hear them approaching, his heavier footsteps chased by the staccato tap of the girl’s heels. She lifted her chopsticks, made a show of interest in the food. The footsteps stopped by their table.