He brought the aircraft in to land at a vacant pad. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ Eddie told him as he removed his headphones. ‘Try to remember which girlfriend’s which!’
Harvey smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. A member of the heliport’s ground crew opened the cabin door, and Eddie hopped down, keeping his head low as he moved away from the chopper. Another guide waited nearby with the next passengers, who were led aboard as soon as he was clear.
The first man took him back to the terminal building. He walked through it and emerged on South Street. Heading along the waterfront, he took out his phone and found Nina’s number. ‘Okay, brace yourself…’ he muttered as he made the call.
Behind him, unnoticed, a man who had been waiting outside the terminal followed at a discreet distance, making a call of his own.
2
Nina looked up as her iPhone buzzed. Her laptop was open, her notes and manuscript on the screen… but the cursor had remained in the same spot for twenty minutes. She checked the phone: Eddie. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi, love,’ came the gruff reply. ‘You back from the shrink’s?’
‘Yeah, about a half-hour ago.’
‘How was it?’
‘I think it helped,’ she said, not even certain if she was being truthful. ‘Did you do your helicopter thing?’
‘Just landed. Good fun — we went around the harbour, buzzed the Statue of Liberty. I flew it for about ten minutes. Didn’t crash once!’
Nina tried to inject some enthusiasm, however ersatz, into her voice. ‘That’s great.’
She knew at once that she had failed. ‘Is everything okay?’ her husband asked cautiously.
‘Fine,’ she said flatly. ‘Where are you?’
‘South Street, on my way to the subway.’
‘Can you stop off at the Soupman’s and get me that jambalaya soup I like?’
‘What? That’s all the way over by Eighth Avenue — it’s a bit out of my way.’
‘I’m pregnant, I get to decide what I eat and where it comes from!’ She had meant it as a joke, but it came out more shrill than intended.
‘Soup for you, then,’ said Eddie. ‘You want anything else?’
Was there a hint of sullenness? ‘No, that’s okay. Although, wait — you could get me my favourite sandwich.’
‘The ones from Aldo’s deli back across in the East Village?’ That was definitely tinged with exasperation.
‘Okay, forget the sandwich,’ she sighed. ‘Just the soup.’
‘Just the soup. No problem.’
‘Thanks, Eddie.’ Silence on the line. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ he replied, still sounding downcast before suddenly becoming more enthusiastic — forcedly so, she couldn’t help but think. ‘Oh, I came up with some more baby names!’
Considering his past suggestions, that immediately put her on alert. ‘Go on…’
‘For a girl, I’m thinking Pandemonium. For a boy, Arbuthnot. Pandemonium Chase, that works, doesn’t it?’
‘Arbuthnot,’ she repeated. ‘That’s not even a real name.’
‘Yeah, it is! It’s a good, honest Yorkshire name. You can’t go into a pub where I grew up without meeting a couple of Arbuthnots.’
Nina knew that in other circumstances she would have been amused, but right now even Eddie’s best efforts were failing to breach her prison of gloom. ‘I think we need to keep thinking.’
‘It’ll be hard to top Arbuthnot.’
Something snapped. ‘Stop saying Arbuthnot! That’s the most stupid name I’ve ever heard. God! If you can’t even take seriously something as simple as choosing a name, how are you going to manage being a father?’
The silence that followed was broken only by her own exasperated breathing. Finally he spoke. ‘I’ll figure it out when it happens. I’ll get your soup, then.’
‘Eddie, I—’ But he had disconnected. ‘God damn it,’ she muttered, already annoyed at herself. He was, as always, just trying to help — in his own unique, occasionally infuriating way — and she had overreacted and blown her top. She glowered down at her stomach. ‘This is all your fault,’ she told the unseen foetus. ‘You and your frickin’ hormones.’
She headed to the kitchen for a drink. Along the way she passed a shelf of memories. Beside her husband’s hideous pottery cigar holder in the shape of a caricatured Fidel Castro, that she had by now despairingly accepted she would never find a believable excuse to smash, was a collection of photographs. The majority were Eddie’s, pictures of himself with friends now gone: his SAS mentor Jim ‘Mac’ McCrimmon, Belgian military comrade Hugo Castille, and others she knew only from stories.
But Nina had her memorials too. Macy in one, dressed up as Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider video games for a magazine photo shoot; and in another, her own parents.
Henry and Laura Wilde beamed at her from the picture, a quarter-century-younger version of herself between them. She remembered the time and place: an archaeological dig near Celsus in Turkey. It had been a hot, dry day, making their descent into the partially excavated Roman tombs both a relief and a thrill. The memory made her smile…
It froze on her face.
Her parents were gone, killed by their obsession, which their daughter had then taken on herself. The question she had posed at the therapist’s office returned: had everything she’d achieved been worth it?
Another question from the session joined it. Was it right to bring a baby into her world? She knew herself well enough to be fully aware that her own obsession, her need to uncover the past, would never be sated. Was it fair to subject her own child to that same mania, to continue the cycle?
What kind of mother would she be?
Nina was forced to admit she had no idea.
She broke out of her trance, leaving her nine-year-old self behind and fetching a glass of water before returning to the study to find the cursor still blinking mockingly from its parking spot. She slumped huffily back in her chair, feeling trapped by her guilt and fear and uncertainty. She had to do something to break free, but what?
Elaine had been right, she decided. Clearing the air with her husband would be a good way to start. She reached for her phone, but then withdrew her hand. Eddie would be on the subway by now, and she knew him well enough to guess that he would still be pissed at her behaviour. Wait until he gets home, she decided. Until I’ve had my soup.
Eddie emerged from the 77th Street subway station and headed north up Lexington Avenue, holding a cardboard cup of hot soup and a bag of crusty bread. He had considered getting a cab back to the apartment, the subway journey from the soup store being a pain requiring two changes of train, but in the end he decided the longer trip might give Nina a chance to calm down about whatever had pissed her off this time.
Still, the fact that he had gone out of his way would hopefully show her that he wasn’t mad about how she’d treated him. Well, not any more. His initial irritation had faded, replaced by a resigned amusement. She had endured so much in the past months, and surviving everything the world had thrown at them only to face an unexpected — though far from unwelcome — pregnancy would stress anybody out.
He still wanted the old Nina back, though. And it would take more than fancy soup to do that. He’d done everything he could to be supportive and helpful and loving, but what if that still wasn’t enough?
He tried to put the depressing thought aside as he turned on to East 78th Street and headed for their building. Maybe the combination of time and food would calm her down…
Something triggered an alert in his mind.