Doctor Gavrilov (23 page)

Tim had been avoiding Katie. He had seen her taking Anna to school that morning, had seen how tired and strained she looked; had also seen Gavrilov striding along the street, his head down, muttering to himself and making gestures in the air like a madman. He had seen Gavrilov at the tube station, calling from a payphone; as if by some unspoken agreement they had ignored one another, had avoided their eyes meeting. Now, as he was getting ready for bed, he could hear them upstairs again. When they raised their voices he could hear them quite clearly. He heard Dmitry shouting, ‘Don't ask me about it! Please don't ask me! Why can you never leave me alone?'

He heard the sound of something heavy falling on the floor. This alarmed him; he got up from the bed, put on his shoes and went to ring on the upstairs bell. There was a long silence. He thought they wouldn't open it; he wished he hadn't rung. Then Dmitry came and opened the door. He looked at Tim as if he hardly existed, seeming not to recognise him, saying nothing.

Tim said, ‘I'm sorry…I've run out of milk. I wondered…'

‘It's half past eleven.'

‘I could hear that you weren't asleep.'

There was an embarrassed silence. Dmitry turned and called to Katie, ‘Tim wants some milk.' She appeared behind Dmitry, her eyes looked puffy, red-rimmed; her voice, when she spoke, sounded unnaturally bright.

‘How much do you want? You can have a whole pint if you like… we've got far too much anyway.' She fetched the milk, handed it to him. Tim thanked them and, unable to think of any excuse to stay, went back into his flat. If he had achieved anything by this interruption it was short-lived, because before long the arguing started again.

Tim couldn't stand it. He went out into the garden and stood there in the middle of the lawn, breathing in the sweet, damp air and the heavy scent of the rose which climbed over the neighbouring wall. He glanced upwards; they hadn't shut the curtains upstairs and he could see them, Katie sitting on the kitchen table and Dmitry pacing up and down. Then he suddenly turned and went up to her. He made a move to kiss her upturned face and she turned her head away from him. Then he slipped his hands inside her jumper and she pulled them away. He moved away from her, made some gesture of anger and impatience; then suddenly he came back and with a powerful movement pushed her backwards on to the table. He leaned over her and kissed her; then he took her by her hips and slid her towards him, pulling at her pants and at his trousers.

Tim looked away at once, unable to watch any more; he felt ashamed of having seen them, angry, and half aroused. He went indoors and sat down at the table, listening in spite of himself, but now there were no further sounds from above.

He was aware of a fierce torrent of feelings, following closely one after the other. He desired Katie enormously, more than before; he realised how much he wanted her. He wasn't sure that he had ever felt like this about anyone before. He felt ashamed, wondered if he'd been wrong about her, and wondered what she felt for her husband; perhaps she enjoyed things this way, perhaps she was one of those women who liked to be dominated, though somehow he didn't think so. Or was she simply afraid of him? He felt a deep, primitive anger at the sight of the woman he wanted making love to someone else. He couldn't understand what Katie could find attractive about her husband, he seemed so unpleasant. He thought, I have to get her away from him. He is lying to her, deceiving her, he is up to no good. If I could prove it, if I could be sure… that would be the way to get through to her.

‘Katie, I want to talk to you.'

Tim had seen her struggling with the pram and the shopping on the steps. He rushed over to help her into the house, unloaded the shopping, and then, because he could see that she was busy and distracted, said: ‘Will you come down later, tonight? Please. There's something I need to talk to you about.'

She looked at him, seeming surprised by his urgency, and said that she would.

She came down at half-past eight. It was a hot evening; she was wearing a loose shirt and leggings, and had her hair up, though one strand had come loose and hung down on her neck. She was restless, nervous, and wouldn't sit down. She said, ‘I can't be long, just five minutes. Mitya didn't want me to come… What did you want to talk to me about? Is it something to do with the flat?'

Tim said, trying not to sound too angry, ‘What does it matter if he doesn't want you to come. You want to come, don't you?'

There was an expression almost of despair on her face, as if she knew she could not explain anything. ‘I'm sorry, Tim, he doesn't like you.'

‘The feeling is quite mutual.'

Katie said, ‘Tim, I think you're being very foolish.'

‘Am I?' Tim felt he was making a hash of things; he didn't know what to say; he was afraid that he might alienate her completely. ‘Why, what's his problem, Katie? Is he jealous?'

‘No, it's not that… Or then, perhaps it is. Perhaps he has some reason to be.'

‘Does he?'

‘Well, Tim, you're the best judge of that.'

Tim took in the ambiguity of this remark. Did she mean that she did feel something for him, or that she knew what he felt for her? She turned away from him and began to look at the magazines lying on the table. He offered her a glass of wine but she refused it. Then he took a deep breath and said, ‘Katie, I can see you're not happy. I'm sorry, I know it's not any of my business, but I've heard you shouting and you look so miserable… he's not drinking, is he? He doesn't…' he ran out of nerve. What could he say? Intimidate her? Abuse her?

Katie stared at him, blankly. She said, ‘No, of course not. Look, Tim, it's kind of you to be concerned, of course we have problems, but it's not that simple. I think you're making a lot of false assumptions. You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to have children, you don't know what the two of us have been through.'

‘Well, maybe I don't, but I can see what you're going through now.'

Katie asked, angrily, ‘Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?'

‘Yes.'

‘I see.' It wasn't his imagination, she was trembling. She was so close, he could reach out and touch her, but he didn't, he dared not. She said, in a softer voice now, ‘I do appreciate that you're concerned about me but… things aren't as bad as you might think. But I am very worried about Mitya… I think he is very depressed.'

‘Well, yes, it would seem so. He must be suffering from something, to treat you like this.'

‘Oh, Tim, don't be ridiculous. I don't want to carry on this conversation, and I'm going to go now.' She turned away, but he said, ‘Katie!' and she turned back to face him. He felt that now he had begun, he had to carry on. He said, ‘Look, Katie, I'm at risk of blowing everything, but… you're very special to me. I can't bear to see you so unhappy. I think your husband is in serious trouble… I haven't told you everything, because I didn't want to alarm you in case it wasn't true, but now I have the evidence… Look…' and he reached for his notebook.

Katie cut him off at once. She said, ‘Tim, you're out of your mind. I don't want to hear this… please, I have to go upstairs. The supper will be burning…'

‘He can switch it off.'

‘Tim, really.' The doorbell rang; Katie jumped, like a guilty child. She said, ‘It's Mitya.' She went to the door. Gavrilov said, ‘The supper's burning and the baby's crying… what are you doing? You said you'd be five minutes.' She said, ‘I'm coming.' She turned to Tim. He thought she was going to say something but she thought better of it, turned away suddenly, and closed the door firmly behind her.

Katie lay awake for hours. She had not said anything about Tim's outburst to Dmitry; so now, she, too, was concealing things. She thought that perhaps she had been too open to Tim, had encouraged him. At first she had been flattered by Tim's obvious attraction to her, when it had seemed harmless, but now it had gone too far; she felt furious with both of them, with Tim and with Mitya, and with herself. She was caught between Dmitry's depression and Tim's pushiness and she felt that there were things under the surface she didn't know, she couldn't guess at, and which she was afraid to bring to the surface because of what it might mean for them all. She felt trapped. She imagined walking out of the house, leaving the whole lot of them, of doing something for herself, something ordinary, enjoyable, like seeing a film. She got out of bed, suddenly, grabbing her clothes from the chair.

Dmitry was awake instantly. He asked, ‘Where are you going?' She said, ‘I don't know, I'm just going, anywhere, out of this house.' Dmitry said, sitting up, startled, ‘What do you mean?' He grabbed at her but she evaded him. She ran down the stairs, opened both the inner and outer doors, and ran out into the street. The pavement was damp and it was spitting with rain. She heard Dmitry shout, ‘Come back!' and she turned and shouted with all the strength she could muster, ‘I – hate – everything!'

She ran down the road in her thin cotton pyjamas, her bare feet slapping on the pavement. She reached the corner, paused, looked back, and saw Dmitry running after her. She ran on again, but as she ran down towards the High Road her confidence began to wane. A drunk across the road stared at her; it began to rain harder. She ran slower, without conviction. She heard Dmitry calling her. By the time she got to the junction she was walking and he caught up with her. He grabbed her shoulder. ‘What are you doing?' he said, ‘You are crazy, anything could happen to you, like this, you might get killed.'

She was shivering. He put his arm round her, took her hand and led her back to the house. She was crying but he didn't say anything. He led her upstairs, took off the clothes he must have hastily pulled on, and climbed back into bed, pulling her down beside him. He lay still, his hand still holding hers, and neither of them spoke.

She continued to cry, but she cried silently, afraid of disturbing him. She thought, what is wrong with me? We will get through this. She tried to console herself by thinking that if something really terrible happened, for instance, if she woke up in the morning and found that she had cancer, then she would look back and wonder why she hadn't been happy before making this discovery. They were all healthy; the children were well, and Mitya, well, things would surely get better for him in time. She couldn't understand why her throat felt dry, why her head ached, how her heart beat faster than it should have done. Then she realised that these sensations were simply those of fear; she admitted to herself that Tim knew something that she didn't want to hear and that her husband too was concealing something from her.

A
NNA was late home from school.

Jenny was meant to have dropped her off at four. But now it was nearly quarter to five, and she hadn't done so. Katie tried to phone her, but there was no reply. She tried to ring the school but there was no reply there either, the office was already shut.

She tried to keep calm. Perhaps they had gone to the park. Or perhaps Jenny had forgotten the arrangement. She wished intensely for a moment that she had got to know Jenny better, so that she knew what she might do, where she might go. Perhaps she should go down to the school. But no, the school would have rung her if Anna was still there. She walked up and down, up and down. How long should she wait before doing something?

She was putting on her jacket when the doorbell rang. It was Jenny, with Charlotte; Jenny looked completely distracted.

She asked, ‘Is Anna here?'

‘No, no, of course not.' Katie instinctively turned and looked behind her, as if Anna might have somehow crept in without her noticing.

‘I don't know,' said Jenny, coming in, pushing past Katie, ‘I can't understand it. Anna was running ahead of us up the road, she always does, she went round the corner where usually she hides and jumps out at us and when I got there she wasn't there. I looked for her everywhere, then I went back to the school because she had forgotten her coat and I thought she might have gone back to get it, but she wasn't there, so I thought she must have run on home…'