Eclipse (6 page)

‘I'm only here to get my mother off my back.'

‘Your mother wants to help you, Felicia,' Magda said.

‘She says she does.'

‘Don't you feel that's true?'

‘She feels guilty,' Felicia said.

‘Why do you think that?'

‘I don't just think it, I know it.'

‘OK,' Magda said. ‘Why should your mother feel guilty?'

‘Because she knows she's the reason I'm like this.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like mother, like daughter.'

‘How exactly?' Magda asked.

‘Both crazy,' Felicia said.

Grace had been to the cinema.

She'd had no appetite at the end of the working day, and she'd noticed that
The King's Speech
, the big British Oscar-winner, was playing at a cinema in town – subtitled, not dubbed, and the hotel receptionist had advised her that Kino Corso on Theaterstrasse was a large, clean cinema in a busy part of town, close to cafés, restaurants and bars, with good tram connections.

It felt strange sitting in a cinema alone, but the movie was every bit as fine as she'd heard, good enough for her to see it again with Sam, if he liked. But for now, she was finally hungry, wondering whether she should find someplace down here to eat, or go straight back to the hotel to eat in the bar . . .

She spotted him about five seconds before it happened.

The young man
again
, crossing the street about twenty yards away, wearing jeans and the same leather jacket he'd worn earlier, carrying shopping bags. And as Grace wondered about the odds of this second coincidence, he dropped one of his bags, bent to pick it up – then stumbled and fell on the tramline.

A tram was speeding towards him.

‘Hey!' Grace shouted, halfway across the street, realizing that something was wrong, because he looked dazed, was not moving. ‘Tram coming!'

He tried rising, gave a startled yelp of pain, his right leg folding under him.

‘Let me help.' Grace reached him, bent, pulled at his left arm. ‘Come
on
.'

She heard the tram's bell, heard its brakes screech, saw its lights looming, and the young man was up now, but trying to retrieve his bags.

‘Just
leave
them!' She dragged at his arm again, and this time he came with her, clearing the line, leaning on her as the tram halted, just feet away.

She looked back at the bags, realizing suddenly how close they'd come.

Joshua and Sam flew into her mind, and maybe she should have been more careful, though she knew she'd had no choice.

‘
Ist alles in Ordnung?
' a woman shouted.

Grace looked up, saw people staring, heard another louder voice, realized that the tram driver was shouting at them in Swiss-German, incomprehensible to her, though it was clear that the poor man had been frightened into anger.

‘I'm very sorry,' she called to him.

‘
Sind Sie verletzt?
' another woman called.

‘She's asking if you're injured,' the young man translated.

She turned to the woman, shook her head, managed a smile, turned back to him. ‘What happened to you?'

‘I don't know. My leg just gave way.' He looked shaken. ‘You could have been killed.'

‘No,' Grace said. ‘The driver stopped in time.'

‘But he might not have.'

‘How's the leg now?'

He tried a step. ‘It feels OK, but back there . . .' He smiled at her. ‘You were incredible. So fast.'

Last year flashed into her mind, as it often did.

Taking a life.

Perhaps the reason she'd felt she had no choice just now.

The young man had gone to speak to the driver. Their audience was melting away, and now both men were coming back to her.

‘This gentleman needs to make sure we're not injured. For his report.'

Grace smiled at the driver, showed him that her arms and legs were in good order, thanked him, and looked back at the young man, who was gathering up his bags. ‘You seem fine now.'

‘My dignity aside,' he said.

The driver, restored to calm, bade them farewell and returned to his tram and waiting passengers.

‘I don't know about you,' the young man said, ‘but I could use a drink.'

‘Good idea,' Grace said.

‘Will you join me? There's a good restaurant close by, but I'm sure we could just have a drink.'

Grace thought about calling Sam. ‘I really should get back.'

‘I wouldn't keep you long.' the young man said.

He looked quite pale, she thought, perhaps still shocked.

‘Why not?' she said.

David and Mildred had left Miami General a while ago, traffic slow.

Mildred sat silently, the blur in her eyes worse than last time, making her feel a little nauseous.

‘I wish you'd say something,' David said.

Mildred took a breath. ‘Remind me, please, why you took me to that man?'

‘I gather you didn't like him.'

‘Please,' she said, ‘just tell me.'

‘Because he's one of the very best,' David said. ‘Because his clinic has a fine reputation with a virtually zero rating on infection issues.' He glanced at her. ‘And because he's happy to perform the procedure under general anesthesia and to keep you in overnight – which I like the sound of, because it'll put you under less pressure.'

‘I know I'm very lucky that it's only cataracts.' Mildred paused, remembering something the doctor had said about the value of good diet and lifestyle. ‘Do you think that my old life might have caused this?'

Her years on the streets suddenly taking on a new perspective.

‘I'd doubt it,' David said. ‘Cataracts are very common.'

‘I know. Doctor Adams said so.'

‘How much do you dislike him?'

‘I wasn't keen,' she said.

‘Then we'll find someone else,' David said.

‘And go through all that again?' Mildred shook her head. ‘Not for anything.'

‘You wouldn't have to go through it all,' David said. ‘I'd see to that.'

‘No,' Mildred said. ‘I'm just being foolish again. I'm sure Doctor Adams is terrific, because otherwise you wouldn't have recommended him.'

‘I wouldn't,' David agreed. ‘But it's your call.'

They were both silent for a few moments.

‘I'm so sorry you're having to go through this,' he said.

‘But it's nothing,' she said. ‘Compared to real sickness, nothing at all.'

‘It's not nothing,' David said, ‘to you.'

‘It'll pass,' Mildred said.

Finally the young man had a name.

Thomas Chauvin.

From Strasbourg, France. The official seat of the European Parliament, located close to the German border.

They'd only reached introductory details after they'd been seated in
Sterne Foifi
for a few minutes, each quickly downing a small whisky, and then the delicious smells had become too much for Grace, and Thomas had recommended and ordered the
Geschnetzeltes Kalbfleisch
with
Rösti
potatoes for two, and a carafe of Swiss white wine.

Grace took out her phone and checked for messages.

‘Someone you need to call, Mrs Becket?' Thomas Chauvin asked.

‘My husband,' Grace said. ‘In Florida.'

He glanced at his watch. ‘Six hours earlier?'

She nodded. ‘He's still at work.'

‘May I ask what he does?'

‘Sam's a police detective,' Grace said.

‘Sounds exciting,' Thomas Chauvin said.

Grace saw the flicker of intense interest in his eyes.

‘Sometimes too much so,' she said.

‘And you? You told me you're here for a conference.'

‘I'm a psychologist,' Grace said.

‘An impressive couple,' he said. ‘I'm a photographer.'

‘What kind of photographer?'

‘All kinds. I take photos for recreation and for a living. My aim is to be a photojournalist.'

‘Interesting work,' Grace said.

‘I'd like to take a photo now,' he said. ‘Of you.'

She smiled. ‘I don't think so.' She looked around. The place was full, the clientele of all ages, the noise level moderately high.

‘So,' Thomas Chauvin said. ‘Small world, as they say.'

‘Amazingly so, in this case,' Grace said.

‘I'm no gambler or mathematician, so I couldn't begin to guess the odds of three chance encounters in less than as many days.' He paused. ‘Lucky ones for me, especially the last.'

She skated over that, remarked instead on his fluent English, and he told her that his grandmother had been raised in London, and that he'd made a point of studying English intensively, since it was still the dominant language in the world he wanted to inhabit.

‘And I spend too much time watching American and British movies.' He grinned.

‘So what brings you to Zurich?'

‘Just vacation,' he said. ‘A few days to look around, get some ideas, watch people.' He smiled. ‘Meet them, sometimes.'

She wondered, very briefly, if there was any possibility that he might have engineered that incident outside the cinema, then realized it would have been almost impossible to get the timing right – and in any case, it was a preposterous thought. Yet still, she was starting to wish that she had stuck to one swift drink, since now she had no choice but to wait for dinner with this stranger, their only common ground those few moments of shock on the street.

It was a relief when the food arrived.

‘You like it?' he asked after her first mouthful.

‘It's delicious.' She wished he would stop watching her so intently.

‘I'm sorry for staring. But I never had anyone save my life before.'

‘I didn't exactly run into a burning building,' Grace said.

‘You shouldn't make light of it,' he said. ‘It was very brave.'

‘It was nothing. I didn't even stop to think.'

‘That's what heroic people always say.'

‘Oh, please.' She regretted her irritation, but his exaggeration rubbed like sandpaper on last year's wounds.

‘I'm sorry,' Chauvin said. ‘I didn't mean to upset you.'

‘You didn't,' she said. ‘But I can assure you that I'm no heroine.'

‘May I at least say you were foolhardy?'

Grace smiled. ‘I guess you can say that.'

‘I never had such a thing happen before,' he said. ‘I heard of a terrible freak accident involving an old lady and a tram a year or two ago, but for a young man to be so clumsy and stupid . . .'

‘Accidents can happen to anyone.' Grace looked at her wine glass, decided against another sip.

‘Foolhardy and brave,' Chauvin said.

She looked around. ‘I wonder if they would call a taxi for me.'

‘I've made you angry,' he said.

‘Not at all,' Grace said. ‘But I do want to get back.'

‘To speak to your husband.'

‘Yes,' she said.

She almost mentioned Joshua, then stopped. Past experiences, she guessed. Trusting strangers with personal information and coming to regret it. Especially a would-be photojournalist.

Chauvin requested a cab for her and asked for the check, and Grace took out her Amex card.

‘No.' Thomas Chauvin's face was set firm. ‘I promise this is the last time I will mention it. But whether or not that tram would have stopped in time, you did try to save the life of a perfect stranger, and I'd say that's more than worth the price of one small dinner.'

She found it hard to argue with that, and within minutes her cab was outside, and Chauvin wanted to see her into the taxi, and Grace knew it would be churlish to refuse.

‘Thank you for dinner,' she said.

‘Thank you for saving me, Grace.' Thomas Chauvin opened the taxi door for her. ‘That name is, coincidentally, very special to me.'

She had neither time nor inclination to ask why.

He closed the door, and the taxi departed.

Thomas Chauvin watched for another moment as the car pulled away, and then he took out his iPhone, tapped into his photos and looked at the screen.

At one of the shots of Grace he'd taken earlier that day, as she and her colleagues had left their restaurant.

In the photograph, she was looking right at him.

God, she was beautiful.

Chauvin smiled, put the phone safely into his pocket.

Patted it.

‘How's she doing?' Sam asked his father.

He hated the thought of Mildred being afraid, their relationship going back to her bag lady days when she'd shared occasional snippets of street information with him.

Tiny in stature, but brave, no cowardice in her.

‘She's mad at herself,' David said. ‘And she's doing her best to appear calm, but she's dreading the surgery.'

‘Do you have a date yet?'

‘Not yet,' David said. ‘The doctor plans to do the eyes one at a time, and he wanted to discuss methods with Mildred, but she wasn't ready, so we have to go back again, which is a pity.'

‘This Adams is a top man, obviously,' Sam said.

‘He has a great reputation, though Mildred didn't care for him.'

‘Shooting the messenger?' Sam asked. ‘Or something more?'

He'd always had a healthy respect for Mildred's instincts.

‘His empathy skills could use some work,' David said. ‘But my contacts assure me he's damned good, and this is small fry for him.'

‘What about going to someone else?' Sam asked.

‘She says she wouldn't start over again even if the new doctor were Santa.'

When Grace called, Sam gave her family news and then they moved on to her day.

‘As a matter of fact,' she said, ‘I had quite an evening. Went to the movies, stopped a man from being hit by a tram and ended up having supper with him.'