Chapter 8: The Unexplained - May

DIAL TONE

"Did you get that phone call?" I call out to Jenny, as she gets in from the University.

Jenny stows her bag under the table in the hall. "What call? I don't think so." She picks up the envelopes from that morning's post. I went through it when I came back from work. She will find it's the usual stuff: a couple of bills, junk mail, yet another letter from the bank saying that they've adjusted their interest rates.

"Someone was trying to reach you. Called here just before lunch. I told them you were at work. Gave them your mobile and the office number. Thought it might have been one of your friends from Suffolk."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I realise I have used the wrong tone. It will sound unkind and dismissive. Jenny patiently ignores my barbed remarks. Things have been getting difficult again lately. It's partly what's been going on at Inward Bound. That and my next trip abroad which is only a few weeks away. I will be away in June and then again in November. Things always get a bit strained between us when I have to go away. "No, nothing." Jenny puts her head around the lounge door and finds me sprawled on the couch, beer in hand, flicking through the channels on the TV. She comes across and sits on the floor beside me. "Tough day?"

I toss the remote down on the coffee table, leaving the TV tuned to News24. I feel guilty because I have not made any attempt to prepare a meal for us. "No, not really; I was able to finish my report and distribute it on email. It should keep the office happy for a bit. How about you?"

"OK. Angela's fussing but that's normal. Quiet day really. I had the mobile on all the time though. No one called."

"They'll find you if it was important, I guess." I think back to the call. It had been a woman, foreign. She'd almost seemed surprised that anyone had answered the phone. I was left feeling uneasy but I could not explain to myself why I should feel that way. "Oh, and I picked up your parcel from the Post Office when I went down into town this afternoon. It's in the spare room. More books?"

Jenny nods. She had ordered an odd collection of psychological papers and back numbers of Second Skin and she had been anxious to get her hands on them so she could press on with her research. I reach down and stroke her neck. It's a placatory gesture. I know the "Suffolk" remark was off side. She arches her head back. "Mmm," she says. "That's nice," and I feel I have been forgiven, once again.

"Good. Now, you go check your parcel and I'll fix you a drink. Then you can cook."

Jenny seems to like it when I tell her what to do, but I still find it difficult to take a "dominant" role. On the occasions when I can overcome my reticence, Jenny always seems to finds it a real turn on. "Yes, sir," she says with a smile. She kisses me on the cheek and heads upstairs and I feel another pang of guilt for being so conventional, so un-adventurous.

In the room Jenny uses for her study, she finds the parcel sitting on her desk and opens it. It's just what she expected. She adds the articles and magazines to the pile. As she does so, she stops and thinks. She was sure there had been a copy of Second Skin on top of the pile. She remembered the cover photograph on the magazine: a girl wearing a scarlet and black corset. So! Joe has been having a quick look while she's been out. Ah well, that's a good sign, she thinks. That is progress! She wants to jot herself a note, just a reminder to check the new articles against the list of items she still has to read, but where is her pen? Jenny is certain that she left it on the desk but finds it only after a search on the floor. It doesn't matter; it's only an old ballpoint but it's annoying, to have to look for it. And where are the post-its? They turn up in the desk drawer.

"I think my brain's seizing up," Jenny says as she sits down beside me and accepts the gin and tonic I have poured for her; it could be early onset Alzheimer's!"

"Gin should help that," I reply, teasing her. "You won't forget any less but it won't worry you so much. What have you lost now?"

"Oh, it's all right. Just my pen and some other things turned up in the wrong places, I am sure I did not leave them, in the places where I found them. You didn't move anything, when you put that parcel up there?"

"No, not at all. Actually I looked for your pen when I took the parcel up. I was going to write you a note but I couldn't see it on the desk. Then the phone went and..."

"Oh, don't worry," Jenny replies. "I expect I just knocked it down."

Privately, Jenny is hoping that her husband's curiosity has been aroused and that this is evidence of his furtive exploration of the world she is researching, the worlds where she is most at home. If true, this would be progress, she thinks. Jenny takes a sip of gin and soon the problem is forgotten. Neither Jenny nor Joe imagine that someone else may have been in the house; someone interested in Jenny and the work she is doing; someone who should really have been more careful not to leave traces of their visit.

ACADEMIC LIMITS: NOVEMBER

It's Friday. Jenny McEwan calls to see Professor Dawney, her research supervisor. Because of what has happened in the past, there is a tension which neither of them is prepared to acknowledge. Each blames the other for things that happened, but neither wants to let the other know that is the case.

"Well, Jenny, how are you getting along?" Professor Dawney exudes uncomplicated, professional, coolness.

"I'm quite pleased with progress." Jenny replies brightly. She is also keeping her true feelings in check, submerging them under the minutiae of her project activities and the politeness of professionalism. "Data collection is complete and I have been able to send the data capture forms to Data Prep, to be coded, cleaned and entered into the statistical analysis programme. Once that's done, it won't be long before I have my hands on the descriptive statistics and we will then get some idea of what analytical work we can do..."

"Jenny, that's excellent. You are using SPSS? " Dawney is also perfectly happy to focus on the project and to ignore what has gone before. "I'm pleased. This project is really beginning to gather some momentum."

"I think so. It certainly seems that way." Jenny is keen to take advantage of the Professor's apparent approval. "Er, next week Joe is going abroad: would it be OK with you if I had an away-day in London to see him off? Andy says he can cover my undergraduate tutorials and there are some references I would like to follow up at the Royal Society of Medicine. They have some hard copy journals that our library does not take. I think it will be quicker to take advantage of Joe's trip than arranging an inter-library loan or asking the RSM to send photocopies."

Dawney is happy to have the chance to grant Jenny a favour. She likes to build up credits with her students. "Jenny, of course. That would be just fine. Enjoy the trip — let's get together again after the weekend and when you've got the first results back from the data."

Jenny nods, "Sure. Thanks. Oh, by the way how was your Russian trip?"

"Oh, fine. Chance to meet some old friends. That seems so long ago now! I've had a lot on my mind for the past few months..." Angela looks a little wistful, Jenny thinks. This is very uncharacteristic but she's soon back to the one thing she talks about best: work. "Some interesting new research is going on too. I'll let you see if you read the proceedings. Some of the methods being discussed might be relevant, when you come to work up your data."

Jenny is happy. She has the chance to have a last day out with Joe. That will be a good way to send him off.

STREET WISE: NOVEMBER

On Tuesday morning, Jenny and I leave home for London. I have a meeting with the consulting engineers working with my employers on a new project in Cambodia. The project Team (including me) will then travelling on to link up with our Korean partners in Seoul. The London engineers maintain a smart office in Fitzroy Square and it's not too far from the Royal Society of Medicine where Jenny is going after we have to say goodbye each other.

We catch the 9.49 from Warwick and arrive in London for 11.30. I hail a taxi and ask the driver to take us to a very nice Venetian restaurant I know, on Wigmore Street and then take my luggage on to the engineer's office in Fitzroy Square where I will catch up with it later, when I meet the rest of the team.

We have time to enjoy a leisurely lunch together before its time for me to go to the meeting. It is a beautiful cloudless day and we walk slowly along, enjoying the closeness of each other's body and the warm reassurance of holding each other's hands.

All too soon we are standing in Fitzroy Square.

"I do hate it when you have to go Joe"

"Yes, I know you do. Me too," I reply.

We are alone in the Square. The rest of my colleagues must have arrived and I am grateful for that. I do not want to indulge in breezy conviviality with the boys and try to enjoy my last moments with Jenny at one and the same time. Be thankful for small mercies!

We embrace tightly...

"Just four weeks," I say.

"I know," she says. "I'll make sure I get ahead of schedule so there's plenty of time for us when you get back."

"OH, I do hate going."

"Yes, I hate you going too..."

"Look it's time."

"I know."

We hug tight once more, kiss and part. I turn one last time on the threshold of the office door. Jenny waves one last time and blows me a kiss.

I smile and turn away.

Inside the Reception Area I find my bags and also find, to my great surprise that I am first to arrive.

The Receptionist shows me to the meeting room where I spend several minutes alone.

Suddenly I hear the commotion of people arriving and follow the noise out to Reception where I find the rest of the boys, who have been held up in traffic. Whilst they haul their bags out from the taxi and collect their papers for the meeting, I take the chance to make a final call to Jenny.

"Joe? Hi!" she says. I can hear the delight in her voice.

"The boys were held up in traffic! They are just arriving, so I thought I'd snatch a final call."

"That's nice."

"Did you get to the library yet?"

"Aha, well I'm afraid I'm being just a little bit naughty..."

"Oh? That sounds as if it could be interesting. Tell me more!"

At which point, my call to Jenny breaks up in a fizz and crackle of static.

"Jenny? Jenny?" is all I can say before someone is talking to me over my shoulder:

"Hi, Joe, sorry we are late."

"Bloody mobiles," I say as I close the call. Technology is all very well when it works, and it works much less often than the electronics people are prepared to admit.

PRE-FLIGHT CHECKS

The meeting has been convened to reviewing the project outline and to confirm our understanding about exactly what each of the team will be responsible for and our aims for the forthcoming meetings in Seoul and the field trip to Cambodia, afterwards.

The meeting goes smoothly, surprisingly smoothly; smoothly enough to give me time to text Jenny to see if she is OK, after the interrupted call.

One of the team calls me out to the office vestibule, saying that their taxi to Heathrow is due. I check my mobile. There is no reply from Jenny. Small talk flows as we stand around in the lobby, ready now to be on our way. I excuse myself and call Jenny. Once again, there is no reply, so I leave her a voice mail.

The taxi arrives. We clamber aboard and begin our journey to Heathrow. It's late afternoon but traffic is flowing smoothly.

"You OK Joe?" Craig Evans, sitting alongside me, has noticed that I seem a bit abstracted.

"Yes, sorry Craig, I've been trying to call Jenny but I can't get through."

"She came to see you off?"

"She did. I think she told her Boss that she had work to do down here, though!"

"Bright girl! She's going to go places."

I laugh out loud. Yes, Jenny will go places but it's the actual places that I still worry about!,

modern communications

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We are now on our final descent to Incheon International Airport. Please return to your seat and fasted your seat belts. Your tray tables should be stowed and your seats in the upright position..."

One of my companions nudges me in the ribs, as I wake reluctantly from sleep to the bustle of the cabin and the cabin crew carrying out their final checks, before landing.

Arriving? Thank goodness. Just why do you get so tired, just sitting, eating and drinking?

I fill in the immigration paperwork as the Boeing makes its final approach. I glance out of the cabin window. There's a shifting panorama of clouds, hills, the sea and a distant cityscape.

Flight KE204 touches down with the usual comforting thump of the 747's sixteen wheel main undercart. The aircraft threads its way through the other ground traffic to its assigned gate. Soon enough we dock with the airbridge, the engines start to wind down and a "bong" on the PA announces the usual dash for the exit.

The journey has taken almost eleven hours. For me, it's nearly five o'clock in the afternoon of the following day, Wednesday. I never find it easy know which day is, which on these trips!

We file from the aircraft into what is Asia's most modern airport. For several years in succession it's won awards as the world's most efficient terminal; a breathtaking symphony of steel, glass concrete and technology. Although we all flow effortlessly through baggage reclaim, immigration and passport control, the official checks and monitoring is meticulous.

I glance at my phone; the strength of the mobile signal is excellent. I turn the phone from "flight mode" to "active" and open the desktop to see if there are any messages or emails but there is nothing from Jenny. It's odd; she normally emails to say she hopes I had a good flight and a safe arrival. I think about texting her but as I emerge from the arrivals channel I see the driver who been sent to collect us. I'll wait until we reach the hotel before trying again.