‘Of course, sir. Although we may need to talk to you again later.’
We didn’t speak until we were in our room, then I said, ‘They know, don’t they?’
‘Not at all. All they’ve got is Geoff hearing a board squeak and the fact that no one heard a car leaving. They’re just checking all the possibilities, that’s all.’
‘But he said he wanted to talk to you again—what if he arrests us?’
‘In that very unlikely event we tell them the truth. But Jo’—he took my shoulders—‘it isn’t going to happen. Try and stop worrying. I’d better go and try to contact Marcus now.’
There was the faintest touch of impatience in his voice, so I didn’t say any more. I thought it through, after he’d gone. Try not to worry, he’d said. I hated playing the vapouring female to his strong, steady male, but he wasn’t the one who had to be pumped full of drugs, rendered unconscious and sliced open by Dr Kent.
Think ten thousand pounds Jo, I told myself, but the words that kept coming back were: Is it worth it?
I was feeling really rough, so I lay down on the bed and tried to think about life after Catcott. Strangely, I didn’t want a smoke.
After a while, I got up and switched on the TV, something I never do at home, not during the day. The choice was between fatuous current affairs (affaires might have been more interesting) or gormless chat show. I turned it off and put on the radio, still tuned to the omnipresent Classic FM. It was playing a piece of music so restful that I lay down again. I couldn’t name it, although for some reason, it made me think of horses.
Tom came in just as it was finishing.
‘Shut up!’ I said fiercely as he started to say something. The music ended and we were informed it was Beethoven’s Sixth. Of course, ‘Fantasia’! It must have been Beethoven week.
‘Permission to speak?’ Tom said.
‘Sorry, just wanted to know what the music was.’
‘Oh. Well, I got through to Marcus and he’ll have the photographs taken over to Fulbourn this afternoon. Hopefully, he’ll contact us this evening.’
‘What, here?’
‘I did check whether the occasional business call was in order.’
*
Lunch. The police had gone. Geoff told us that Denny was still in theatre. After he’d gone back upstairs, Tom challenged me to a game of chess in the commonroom. He beat me easily, and his smug expression made me mad.
‘Another?’ I said.
‘All right.’
This time, I attacked immediately with all my major pieces and after a bloody slogging match, cornered him.
‘Best of three?’ he said grimly.
‘No.’ The door opened. ‘Here’s Geoff. Take it out on him. Any news yet, Geoff?’ I asked him as I passed.
‘Er—not yet, no.’
I went back up to the suite and tried to do a relaxing technique, emptying my mind of everything but the feel of my limbs sinking into the bed. It was just beginning to work when Tom came in.
‘Denny’s out of theatre and coming round.’
‘Oh, good.’
We went down and walked in the grounds. There was a smell of mown grass and birdsong. This time, I did want a cigarette.
‘Rather a long time wasn’t it, for a laparoscopy?’
‘A hell of a long time,’ I said slowly. ‘Why, I wonder?’
‘Perhaps Geoff’ll he able to tell us at dinner time.’
‘Dinner time!’ I exploded, surprising even myself. ‘This place is worse than a bloody prison.’
‘Oh? I didn’t know you’d done any porridge. What were you in for?’
‘Ha bloody ha. I feel like I’ve been here weeks. It’s all right for you, you can go swanning off whenever you feel like it.’
‘So can you, Jo,’ he said quietly. ‘I knew a bloke once who was in prison, wrongly. Believe me, it’s different.’
I closed my eyes. ‘Sorry.’
He put his arm round me. ‘No, I’m sorry, Jo. I know it’s bloody for you. Please try to hang on.’
At dinner, Geoff told us that Denny was fine and that the op had taken a long time because they wanted to make sure they got all the eggs. Hmm.
Marcus phoned just before eight thirty. Tom took the call, said, ‘Yes’, or ‘I understand’, occasionally before ringing off. He turned up the sound of the TV again before speaking quietly to me.
‘Professor Fulbourn’s looked over the data and made some preliminary comments. Of all the cases we photographed, only the last nine had laparoscopies, and of these, Mrs Murrell was the only case terminated. They’ve checked five of the others and they’re all alive and well, so I think we can assume Mrs Murrell was killed only because of what she overheard.’
‘Only!’
‘OK, I take your point. Fulbourn hasn’t been able to work out what’s going on. He’s going to work on it tonight and Marcus may be able to tell me more tomorrow.’
‘So I have to go through with it?’
‘You don’t have to do anything, Jo. We can go tonight if you like.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ I looked at his face. The bastard had known I wouldn’t take him up on it. ‘But I want to be out of here by Wednesday night at the absolute latest.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Fair enough. That gives us three more days. Assuming Fulbourn doesn’t come up with the goods before then.’
‘How did Marcus manage to tell you all that on an open line?’ I asked.
He grinned. ‘He and I can nearly always work out what the other’s on about. Instead of cases, he referred to the firms I was worried about. Only one has cancelled the contract, and so on.’
We walked in the grounds to watch the sunset again and went to bed at eleven. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t sleep, even after taking a sleeping pill. After an hour, I called softly to him. He must have been lying awake too, because he came over straight away.
‘Worried about tomorrow?’
‘Tom, I’m terrified. Please hold me.’
It was strange, needing his physical closeness so much and yet having no sexual desire, so different from the last time he’d comforted me all those months ago. This time it was he who was aroused and I who couldn’t respond.
I did what I could for him and curiously, it gave us both release. He stayed with me until I slept.
17
Monday was pretty much a non-day. It wasn’t that nothing happened, the very opposite in fact, only I was unaware of most of it.
I heard Tom get up and go for his run. I hoped against hope that even at this late stage, the Prof would have worked out what was going on and we could do a flit. This, however, was not to be.
Tom came back after half an hour, as red-faced as before, and turned on the radio.
‘Well, I’ve got the spunk,’ he wheezed, ‘but not much else.’
I waited while he recovered a little.
‘Fulbourn says that what we’ve given him are medical notes, observations on the medical progress of a group of patients. He says he thinks there must be some complementary scientific notes, and he needs to look at those. And they’ll be in Carla’s room.’
‘Oh no! We’ll never get away with another break-in.’
‘I know that.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We’ve still got three days. I’ll work something out.’
‘Did he say anything about why the laparoscopies are taking so long?’
‘No. We don’t know for sure how many of the others did take that long—we only know about Mrs Murrell and Denny. Fulbourn says that the reasons given by Kent could, in theory, be the truth.’
‘So I’ve just got to take whatever comes,’ I said bitterly.
‘Jo, I’ll be here all the time. If your op goes on for too long, I’ll be asking them why. And I’ll be here with you all the time afterwards, to make sure nothing happens to you then.’
I shrugged. ‘Sure. You’d better get showered and go down for your breakfast.’
He ga
ve a tight smile and disappeared into the bathroom. I was trying to make him feel guilty and we both knew it, but it was my head on the chopping block.
I lay back and tried to lose myself in the music after he’d gone. It was something by Schubert, but I wasn’t in the mood. It seemed an age before he was back, although it wasn’t much over half an hour.
‘Denny’s up and very breezy,’ he said, either trying to cheer me up or assuage his guilt. ‘I told her you were worried and she said she’d call in and see you.’
Which she did a few minutes later. She was certainly very relaxed, even laid back, and despite everything, she did cheer me up. She stayed until Nurse Jenni came to give me the pre-med at ten.
Pethidine’s a funny drug. It’s the same every time (I’d had it myself, before my appendectomy, besides watching its effect on others). You’re convinced it’s not having any effect on you, and it’s only when they come to wheel you away to the theatre that you realise you just don’t care anymore. The thought even went through my mind as the lift went down that this is what it must be like for a condemned murderer being taken for the lethal injection, but even as the anaesthetist (an old boy with a craggy, kindly face) stepped forward to administer the coup de grace, I wasn’t worried, only detached. Count to ten, he said. I think I got to six.
*
Awakening from anaesthesia is also odd, much odder than awakening from sleep. Past and present are all jumbled up—my first sensation was of abdominal pain and I thought, damn! I’ve started my period, they’ll cancel the op and I’ll have to go through the whole business again. Then I heard Tom’s voice, gentle, but also urgent.
‘It’s all right Jo, don’t try to talk, it’s all over and you’re fine.’
His face coalesced above me, and behind it, Nurse Jenni’s. She removed Tom, checked me over, told me the abdominal pains were due to the air that had been pumped into me during the laparoscopy, and declared me fit.
Tom took my hand, told me again not to say anything and I wondered what he was so het up about. Nurse Jenni left us to it. It was comforting knowing that it was all over and he was there and I slid gratefully back into semi-consciousness.
Music, Tom and wakefulness, this time complete. I looked at the bedside clock—nearly four.
‘How long was I out?’ I asked him.
‘Just over three hours, before you came round the first time.’
‘The same as Denny, then?’
He nodded. ‘I asked Leila after two hours why it was taking so long. She said she’d make enquiries, then came back with the answer that your eggs were in an awkward position.’
I rubbed my still tender abdomen and felt the stitches. ‘Is it relevant? The fact that these ops are taking so long.’
‘I don’t know. I can’t see how.’
Neither could I. Another thought came to me.
‘Tom, when I was coming to, you kept on at me not to say anything—was I saying anything?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll say you were. Tell the buggers I want twenty thousand was the most startling.’
‘Did I say that?’
‘Several times. Obviously, you don’t remember.’
I told him about thinking I’d have to go through it again. ‘That’s obviously where it came from.’
‘Mm. Gives you an idea of how Mrs Murrell might have given things away.’
I shuddered. ‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry. How are you feeling? Want anything to eat?’
I shook my head. ‘Not yet. My tummy hurts too much. Please don’t go.’ I thought I’d felt him stirring.
‘I’ll stay with you as long as you like.’
Nurse Jenni came back and told me the pain would be gone by tomorrow, and that I could have a light meal in bed this evening, if I felt like it. Told me I must relax. I told Tom I wished I could have ten thousand for every time I’d heard that; after she’d gone, of course.
The light meal consisted of scrambled eggs on toast, which I had before Tom went down for dinner. After that, we watched TV until about ten thirty. I didn’t think sleep would come easily after being unconscious for so much of the day, but it did.
*
The next day, I was again awakened by Tom going out for his run. I felt much better, although still rather drowsy. Nurse Jenni came in and made me take some pills.
‘Dr Kent would like to see you at nine thirty,’ she told me. ‘You can go down for breakfast first if you like, so long as you take things easily.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
‘Your husband certainly takes his jogging seriously,’ she observed.
‘Don’t I know it,’ I said with what I hoped was the right touch of bitterness. Then, more quietly, ‘I’m hoping a baby might substitute—to some extent, anyway.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ she said, rather mechanically, I thought. We sat with Denny and Geoff at breakfast. Denny asked me how I was feeling and I said fine.
‘Funny us both needing laparoscopies,’ she said.
‘Isn’t it? Did you ever have to have one before you came here?’
She shook her head. ‘Not to have eggs collected, no. Ultrasound’s much less unpleasant, but if a laparoscopy’s what it takes…’ She shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
She was still very relaxed and I wondered whether Dr Kent’s pills were responsible.
‘When are you leaving?’ I asked.
‘Tomorrow, probably. I’m due to have the embryos replaced in the morning.’ She held up crossed fingers. ‘Here’s hoping.’
I held mine up as well. ‘You and me both,’ I said, and suddenly felt a fraud.
Back in our room, I brushed my teeth and tidied up before going to see Dr Kent.
‘What are your plans?’ I asked Tom.
‘Thought I’d pop out for a spell.’ He lowered his voice. ‘See Marcus.’
I nodded.
‘See you later, then,’ he said. ‘Be good.’
In her room, Dr Kent quickly examined me and said I was doing well.
‘We’ll replace your eggs on either Thursday or Friday,’ she said. ‘We’ll be monitoring both you and the eggs to see which is best. Meanwhile, do as little as possible. I want you to continue with the sedative I prescribed.’
‘Oh. Is that what the nurse gave me this morning?’ I asked, remembering.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Oh,’ I said again. ‘You think a sedative’s necessary?’
‘I think it helps, yes. I can’t emphasise enough how important it is for you to relax at this stage. Your—our—success could depend on it.’
‘I see. In that case, fine.’ Like hell it was.
I returned to my room and lay on the bed, although not to sleep. I don’t know what the drug was, but it induced a spurious sense of lazy well-being rather than drowsiness. I’m not taking any more, I thought.
I must have dozed off for a little, however, because Tom woke me at about half-past one.
‘D’you want any lunch?’ he asked. ‘We’d better hurry if you do.’
‘Not really,’ I said, yawning. ‘But I suppose I’d better. Did you—’
He put his finger to his lips and nodded. ‘After lunch,’ he mouthed.
We saw the Dacies coming out, but otherwise, we had the dining room to ourselves. I still wasn’t feeling very hungry, but forced a little down for form’s sake.
Back in our room, he turned on the musical backcloth and sat on the side of his bed. I sat beside him.
‘I had quite a long talk with Marcus,’ he began. ‘And he had a long talk himself with Fulbourn on the phone last night. It seems that the data we found has thrown up a lot more questions than answers.’
‘Well, there’s a surprise.’
He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. ‘Here’s what Marcus gave me.’ He unfolded them and looked at the top sheet. ‘Of the cases in the earlier folders we found, the Stimulated DNA and Replaced DNA, none involved—’
‘D
oes he know yet what those terms mean?’
‘No, although he thinks they refer to the treatment of the sperm before it is injected into the egg. May I continue?’
‘By all means.’
‘Thank you. Of these cases, none involved laparoscopies and all were failures, bar one of the replaced cases—she’s about six months pregnant.’
‘But they’ve stopped doing those now.’
‘So it seems. Those cases, plus the Nuclear DNA cases, represent about fifteen per cent of Kent’s work over the whole period. So far, all but that one have been failures, and yet the other eighty-five per cent of her work has been so successful as to make the overall success rate acceptable.’
‘So why is she bothering?’
‘Why indeed? Now, looking more closely at the Nuclear DNA cases. There are twenty-five in all, not counting you and Denny. Of these, the first sixteen did not involve laparoscopies, and all were failures. The subsequent nine have all involved laparoscopy. All of these were also failures, ultimately, but one woman did become pregnant, although she then had a miscarriage during the first trimester of pregnancy.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser.’
‘Isn’t it? And can you guess who that woman was?’
I felt my mouth drop open. ‘Oh no, not Denny?’
He slowly nodded. ‘And now she’s back again…for another laparoscopy.’
I closed my eyes to think. ‘Tom, of the eighty-five per cent not included in the folders, what portion is by microinjection?’
‘About half.’
‘And it’s reasonably successful?’
‘It’s highly successful, more so here than anywhere else.’
‘So we come back to the question, why is she bothering? I mean’—I continued quickly—‘this fifteen per cent, it’s got to be some form of experimentation, hasn’t it?’
‘I’d say so, although Marcus still doesn’t agree.’
‘But why experiment, if she’s so successful anyway?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what I meant by more questions than answers.’
I shivered suddenly. ‘Tom, that means she’s intending to experiment on me.’
He put an arm round me. ‘Not necessarily. Marcus is still of the opinion that money is behind it. He says that some of the apparently successful microinjections could simply he carefully selected donor inseminations, carried out after microinjection has failed.’
Deliver Them From Evil Page 13
