Going Viral by Andrew Puckett Page A

me,’ I said nonchalantly.
    ‘Mm?’ She looked up. ‘Oh, thanks, I’ll bear it in mind. These are good – did you take them yourself?’
    Yesterday afternoon, I told her.
    ‘And this is the Safety Cabinet you were telling me about?’ She held one up.
    ‘Yeah.’ I put my cup on the floor and went to sit next to her to explain how it worked.
    ‘But you don’t think they’d be able to get hold of one?’
    ‘Even if they could, there’s the small matter of plumbing it in –’ The doorbell went...
    ‘Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ I said, getting up. ‘They usually come on Saturday.’ I went into the hall and opened the door…
    Framed against the winter sun was the long blonde hair of my wife, Sarah. Behind her, a pram stood on the path.
    ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?’ she demanded.
    Stunned, I stood to one side as she manoeuvred the pram over the shallow step. Still in a daze, I indicated the living room and shut the front door. Rebecca had got to her feet. Sarah hesitated a mini-second as she saw her, then pushed the pram inside.
    ‘Er – Sarah,’ I said, ‘this is Rebecca, a colleague of mine… Rebecca, this is Sarah, my wife.’
    Both said hi, neither of them smiling nor sounding especially enthusiastic, but each appraising the other – in minute detail, in seconds – the way women do.
    Rebecca’s eyes snicked over to me – ‘I think we’d more or less finished here Herry, so I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye,’ she said to Sarah as she passed her. Sarah didn’t reply.
    I walked Rebecca to the door. ‘I’ll phone you,’ I said.
    She nodded. I didn’t blame her for going; Sarah had piercing blue eyes that beamed toxic rays at you down her nose… I watched Rebecca down the path, then gently closed the door. Took a breath, swallowed and went back to the living room. Sarah was sitting in an armchair, the pram in front of her.
    I began, ‘To what do I owe this –?’ Just as she said –
    ‘Well, you certainly haven’t wasted much time.’
    The effrontery left me speechless – for a few seconds, anyway…
    ‘She’s a colleague, and besides, it’s none of your business. To what do I owe –’ I began again –
    ‘I’m your wife, remember?’
    ‘My wife who walked out on me.’
    ‘And whose fault was that?’
    ‘Yours.’ I said curtly. ‘You were having an affair, you got pregnant, you walked out. Or had you forgotten?’
    ‘And why did I do all those things, husband dear?’
    ‘I know what you told me, just as I’m sure you’re about to tell me all over again.’
    ‘Because you ignored me. I might as well have been alone for all the attention you paid me, so it’s no wonder I looked elsewhere…’
    ‘Right. Shall we play the tape again, or can I turn it off now?’
    We stared at each other in dislike.
    ‘How’s Charles?’ I asked.
    ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I imagine.’
    I waited. She went on,
    ‘I’ve left him – and no husband dear, you needn’t look so alarmed – I wouldn’t come back to you if you were the last human being etc. etc.’
    I waited. She said, ‘Your turn. You’re supposed to say Then to what do I owe –?’
    ‘Then to what do I owe?’
    ‘I thought you ought to meet your daughter. And before you go into denial mode, I brought the DNA profile with me…’

 
    Chapter 10
     
    She hadn’t left Charles of course, he’d kicked her out when he’d discovered the baby wasn’t his.
    I suppose I’d better tell you about my wife.
    Some people like to say that public school students are snobs. They don’t know the half. Far worse is the snobbery between the ranks of public schools. Sarah’s was in the first rank, mine was in the second. All right, third – yeah, yeah, you can see the chip on my shoulder…
    My father was a sergeant in the army, which is the only reason I went to public school in the first place – the army paid for it because of all the moving round soldiers do.
    I’d met Sarah at a party when I was a senior