life member and which had an excellent cafe,
she said.
Such
were the trivialities which competed for Jenny's attention, along with stolen
corpses, a steady stream of paranoid text messages (which had replaced the
phone calls) from Mrs Jamal, and planning tactics to extract maximum
information from the police and Security Services. And all the while she was
staving off the symptoms of acute anxiety with extra beta blockers. She had
tried emailing Dr Allen for advice, but received an out-of-office reply that
said he had gone skiing in the Italian Alps for a week. Lucky him. She had a
mobile number for critical emergencies, but feared that the moment she called
it he would be forced to sign her off sick, with or without her consent. She
had little choice but to manage as best she could.
Ross
came home late on Saturday night. Jenny was woken by his and Karen's stifled
giggles and two pairs of clumsy footsteps on the stairs. They retreated to his
bedroom, and moments later music started. It had been part of their deal that
he could have his girlfriend over to stay if her parents agreed, and Jenny had
a certain self-satisfaction in being cool enough to suggest it in the first
place. The reality was a pain. She resented him wanting to be treated like an
adult without being prepared to take an ounce of responsibility. And she was
childishly jealous. She was still just about young enough to have the kind of
good time they were having next door, but the chances of it ever happening for
her seemed increasingly remote.
The
teenagers lay in bed until close to midday, then appeared yawning and
dishevelled, complaining of being tired. Despite her disturbed night, Jenny had
spent a productive morning in her study planning questions for the witnesses
at her inquest. A rush of adrenalin had temporarily pushed her subconscious
anxieties aside. Focused and purposeful, she carried her energy into the
kitchen and set about preparing lunch. Her sense of achievement gave her the
tolerance not to be irritated by the sight of the two of them slumped on the
sofa with the curtains half drawn to keep the daylight - God forbid - from
hitting the TV screen. With forced cheer she fetched and carried cups of tea,
even drawing a smile and a thank you from Karen.
The
kids were still glued to a movie when Jenny emerged from the kitchen having
produced a full-scale Sunday lunch. She gazed on her achievement with pride:
she was capable of being a good mother.
Jenny
laid the table at the far end of the living room and they sat down to eat, Ross
and Karen appearing surprised at the sudden magical appearance of food. She
attempted to make uncontroversial conversation. It was tough going. Terrified
of being embarrassed in front of his girlfriend, Ross shot her silencing looks
each time she opened her mouth. His timidity was baffling. He was being allowed
to behave however he wanted - Jenny was doing all in her power to treat him as
a grown-up - yet he was cringing like a frightened child.
Tired
of treading on eggshells, Jenny said to Karen, 'Did Ross tell you what happened
on Friday? A body was stolen from the hospital mortuary. It completely
vanished.'
'God.
That's awful. Why?'
Ross
threw her a glance. She ignored him.
'We're
not sure. The best guess is that she was murdered and whoever killed her is
trying to dispose of the evidence.'
Ross
said, 'Do we have to talk about your gross work all the time?'
'I
don't mind,' Karen said. 'It's interesting.'
'Not
to me it isn't. Dealing with dead people all day, it's sick.'
Jenny
said, 'We have to know how people died.'
'I
don't. It gives me the creeps.'
She
held up her hands. 'Sorry I mentioned it.'
'I'm
only saying - you don't have to get uptight about it.'
She
snapped. 'Me uptight? I was trying to make an effort so we wouldn't have to sit
here in silence.'
'Well,
don't bother.'
'Fine.'
She
helped herself to more potatoes, smiled at Karen and ate in silence. What she
should have done was tell him to
she said.
Such
were the trivialities which competed for Jenny's attention, along with stolen
corpses, a steady stream of paranoid text messages (which had replaced the
phone calls) from Mrs Jamal, and planning tactics to extract maximum
information from the police and Security Services. And all the while she was
staving off the symptoms of acute anxiety with extra beta blockers. She had
tried emailing Dr Allen for advice, but received an out-of-office reply that
said he had gone skiing in the Italian Alps for a week. Lucky him. She had a
mobile number for critical emergencies, but feared that the moment she called
it he would be forced to sign her off sick, with or without her consent. She
had little choice but to manage as best she could.
Ross
came home late on Saturday night. Jenny was woken by his and Karen's stifled
giggles and two pairs of clumsy footsteps on the stairs. They retreated to his
bedroom, and moments later music started. It had been part of their deal that
he could have his girlfriend over to stay if her parents agreed, and Jenny had
a certain self-satisfaction in being cool enough to suggest it in the first
place. The reality was a pain. She resented him wanting to be treated like an
adult without being prepared to take an ounce of responsibility. And she was
childishly jealous. She was still just about young enough to have the kind of
good time they were having next door, but the chances of it ever happening for
her seemed increasingly remote.
The
teenagers lay in bed until close to midday, then appeared yawning and
dishevelled, complaining of being tired. Despite her disturbed night, Jenny had
spent a productive morning in her study planning questions for the witnesses
at her inquest. A rush of adrenalin had temporarily pushed her subconscious
anxieties aside. Focused and purposeful, she carried her energy into the
kitchen and set about preparing lunch. Her sense of achievement gave her the
tolerance not to be irritated by the sight of the two of them slumped on the
sofa with the curtains half drawn to keep the daylight - God forbid - from
hitting the TV screen. With forced cheer she fetched and carried cups of tea,
even drawing a smile and a thank you from Karen.
The
kids were still glued to a movie when Jenny emerged from the kitchen having
produced a full-scale Sunday lunch. She gazed on her achievement with pride:
she was capable of being a good mother.
Jenny
laid the table at the far end of the living room and they sat down to eat, Ross
and Karen appearing surprised at the sudden magical appearance of food. She
attempted to make uncontroversial conversation. It was tough going. Terrified
of being embarrassed in front of his girlfriend, Ross shot her silencing looks
each time she opened her mouth. His timidity was baffling. He was being allowed
to behave however he wanted - Jenny was doing all in her power to treat him as
a grown-up - yet he was cringing like a frightened child.
Tired
of treading on eggshells, Jenny said to Karen, 'Did Ross tell you what happened
on Friday? A body was stolen from the hospital mortuary. It completely
vanished.'
'God.
That's awful. Why?'
Ross
threw her a glance. She ignored him.
'We're
not sure. The best guess is that she was murdered and whoever killed her is
trying to dispose of the evidence.'
Ross
said, 'Do we have to talk about your gross work all the time?'
'I
don't mind,' Karen said. 'It's interesting.'
'Not
to me it isn't. Dealing with dead people all day, it's sick.'
Jenny
said, 'We have to know how people died.'
'I
don't. It gives me the creeps.'
She
held up her hands. 'Sorry I mentioned it.'
'I'm
only saying - you don't have to get uptight about it.'
She
snapped. 'Me uptight? I was trying to make an effort so we wouldn't have to sit
here in silence.'
'Well,
don't bother.'
'Fine.'
She
helped herself to more potatoes, smiled at Karen and ate in silence. What she
should have done was tell him to
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